#i am a feral animal if u take my food i start *biting*

[renthewerecatboi]

the despair of when someone takes some food i was not going to eat anyways

[codenamed-queenie]

#BatsInQuarantine

I am going insane. So I poured my restlessness into one long and very detailed post and got super into it. Please enjoy this hot mess.

The Justice League, being the well-meaning virus-proof Super Friends that they are, took one good look at the news, one good look at their non-powered friends Ollie, Bruce, and their families, and collectively decided that these normal humans must be Protected At All Costs.

Now, keep in mind, Bruce is never one to roll over when it comes to being benched. 

However, he understands the importance of social distancing. He knows he needs to set a good example for his kids, and keep up appearances as Gotham’s Most Responsible Multi-Billionaire. 

So. Quarantine it is. 

But how are his kids handling it?

Dick - 

100% on board in the beginning. Gotta do the Responsible Thing. Gotta set a Good Example. Besides, guys, this is gonna be Fun. Quality Family Time is always a Must.

He lasted 2 days. 

Then he started to get twitchy. 

And as everyone knows? A Trapped Dick Grayson is a Feral Dick Grayson.

He bounces off the walls.

Literally.

“I have to climb.” 

“Dick, no.”  

“I have to climb everything.”

Has scaled the manor 16 times already. Has climbed the chandelier. The banister. Bruce. The roof. The Cave. Anything in the house that’s been bolted down and especially anything that hasn’t. 

Duke found him clinging to the wall 10 ft off the ground like Spiderman and screamed so loud it shattered glass. 

Desperate for news of the outside. 

He thrives off of it like a starving man. 

Was the one to suggest he and Barbara take a break to Social Distance from each other (”Sorry, babe, kissing spreads germs”) and experienced Instant Regret(TM) approximately 5 minutes after. 

The Family has labelled him a Flight Risk Level 1 (Most likely to say f**k it and make a break for the outside world)

Jason - 

Accidentally got trapped inside the manor with the others when Bruce called Shutdown. If he had his way, he’d be chilling in his favorite safe-house right now, binging The Witcher with Roy and Artemis, and not worrying about finding a stray brother in his sock drawer.

But he’s nothing if not an opportunist. 

The way he sees it, Jason has 3 options:

Self Improvement

Self Isolation (See Duke, Cass, and Damian)

Descension Into Madness (See Dick and Steph)

And, well, he always wanted to try a few things. Now he’s got the free time to do it.

So he settles on baking. 

Alfred’s got enough food and raw ingredients stored up to feed an army. (Not because he’s a Panic-Buying-Hoarder in times like these. But because he’s a Panic-Buying-Hoarder all the time. Just try feeding 11+ teenagers sometime.)

Uses recipes he finds off Google.

His first few attempts are, in a word, ‘tragic’.

Alfred slips him a few of his recipe cards, and Jason suddenly starts seeing Results. 

Turns out he’s pretty good at this baking thing once he gets the hang of it. 

Hope everyone’s okay eating nothing but pie, macaroons, biscuits, and whatever else Jason whips up. 

Cause that’s gonna be the only food left by the time he’s done. 

Barbara - 

Self-quarantined with her dad. 

They’ve been binge-watching classic black and white movies together.

It’s a fun time, but she’s started to get a little antsy. Loving her dad and wanting to be around him 24/7 are, understandably, mutually exclusive. 

Calls the manor to video-chat every day.

For her sanity just as much as theirs. 

Gives everyone little challenges to film on their phones and send in. She makes compilations of everyone’s submissions so they can all watch and laugh together. 

Bonus points for Creativity

One comp shows the family trying to drop Mentos into coke bottles. 

Dick did a handstand, and dropped his Mento from the second story balcony. 

Tim did it wearing the Batman cowl. The soda exploded into his face, and the rest of the video is just Bruce’s Shrieking.

Stephanie tried it, but the bottle tipped. Everyone on camera screamed as the bottle rocketed through the front window. 

She spends most of her calls having one-on-one convos with Dick.

They’ve come up with little code phrases so they can be Cheesy even with family members lurking in the background. 

She thinks the way he clings to the monitor is cute. 

Almost like he’s giving her a hug through the screen. 

(It’s easier than letting herself worry about his mental state, at least)

Tim -

Oh this boy.

Freaked out for the first five minutes before he decided ‘hey wait, Bruce is letting me stay in my pajamas all day? Noice.’ 

Now he’s just vibing.

The rest of his family is Low-Key shielding him.

He Has No Spleen, you see.

Steph: “Someone could cough on him and he could die!”

He just goes about his day, playing Animal Crossing like there’s no tomorrow, tinkering on projects, taking naps, etc. Living his best life.

Meanwhile there’s always someone lurking behind him, keeping watch, keeping him safe. 

Dick sneezed within 5 feet of Tim once (the fact that he was on top of the dusty bookshelf Tim was perusing is irrelevant)

Jason still full-body tackled him the second Tim’s back was turned. 

No one with any symptoms--

Like, any symptoms. They don’t even have to be Corona-related.

--is allowed within 10 feet of Tim. 

Tim has been wandering the manor for weeks, now, without seeing another human being. 

(He sees Dick on the ceiling sometimes, but that doesn’t really count)

He’s been trying increasingly drastic pranks and shenanigans to draw someone, anyone, out. 

But it doesn’t matter how many times he steals Damian’s sword, or sets fire to Jason’s brownie bites.

Nobody wants to risk it. 

Cass - 

No one has seen her since quarantine started.

Everyone is approximately 87% sure she’s somewhere in the manor though

Because she does eat the meals Alfred leaves out for her.

Or at least someone does, at any rate. 

(Jason and Santa top the running suspects list)

Santa was Steph’s suggestion. For some reason it snowballed. 

It’s assumed that Cass misunderstood the meaning of ‘social distancing’ and took it too far. 

But no one knows for sure. 

She is Tim’s Guardian Angel. 

People who so much as clear their throats a little too loudly anywhere near him suddenly wake up on a different floor of the house four hours later. 

Duke came closest to spotting her while he was up in the attic. 

Either that, or there’s another Creepy Sister everyone forgot to tell him about living up there.

She is silent, and watchful, sticking to the shadows, but she does leave the occasional note out to brighten her siblings’ day. 

Things like ‘helo i love u’ and ‘hop u ar ok’  mostly. 

She is bound and determined to protect her family from this invisible threat, no matter the cost. 

Steph - 

Like Dick, she was Super Pumped at first. 

(Just kind of showed up at Wayne Manor before quarantine was enacted. The original purpose of her visit is unclear, but regardless, she’s Trapped.)

Also Like Dick, her descent into madness was swift.

She is impossible to pin down. 

Not like Cass or Damian, who’ve stayed off the grid, and are therefore Untraceable. 

No. She’s impossible to pin down, because she never stops moving. 

Switches seamlessly between Zumba on top of the Giant Dinosaur in the Batcave, and furiously knitting Alfred (the Cat) a sweater with a pair of Tim’s used chopsticks. 

Braided everyone’s hair while they were asleep.

Even Bruce’s. 

She tried to do Tim’s, but somehow blacked out and regained consciousness in the attic. 

When she woke up with a scream and a furiously twitching eye, she startled Duke out of his Makeshift Fort he built out of old cardboard boxes and antique furniture. He’s had to resort to finding a new hiding place. 

Sometimes, on the rare occasions she does sit still, staring off into the distance, she’ll suddenly start laughing hysterically. This may last between thirty seconds and thirty minutes, depending entirely on how long it’s been since she’s knitted a cat sweater or done cartwheels through every room in the house.

Blew up the greenhouse out back, somehow.

Everyone has agreed not to talk about it.

Some people were built to handle prolonged time inside their homes.

Stephanie Brown is not that way.

Damian - 

Damian Wayne Cannot Be Contained.

At least not inside the house. 

He took off thirty-six hours into quarantine. 

Thanks to the security equipment around the borders of the Wayne Estate, he can’t escape the grounds. 

(He’s tried and failed multiple times. Jason and Bruce have a running bet on how many times the perimeter alarms will go off per day.)

(Jason is winning.)

He wanders the grounds with Titus as his only companion. 

The two of them run laps, practice drills, and find ways to occupy their time. 

No one’s entirely sure what those ways are. 

In fact, nobody knows exactly where Damian is at any given time. 

Only that he is Out There. 

And he’s the best security system Wayne Manor’s ever had. 

So far, he’s stopped five groups of civilians scaling the perimeter walls before the lasers and electric nets even have a chance to deploy.

They were trying to break in and steal supplies. 

(Even ones they already had in surplus. Like Toilet Paper.)

He’s also stopped Dick from escaping twelve (12) times.

Drags him back by his shirt collar and deposits him on the welcome mat. 

Usually with a note for Alfred/Jason, requesting more fruit tarts. 

Duke - 

Did not leave the attic for two weeks. 

Then Steph discovered his hiding spot (read: was dumped there by Cassandra) which forced him to relocate to the basement. 

Yes, it turns out Wayne Manor does have a basement. 

This was a surprise to Duke, who always thought that the Batcave was Bruce Wayne’s basement. 

Alfred keeps him supplied with all the necessities:

i.e. food, magazines, assorted pastries from Jason’s latest batch, usually straight out of the oven.

Duke also snagged the Manor’s Alexa. 

She has become a sort of ‘Wilson’ to Duke’s ‘Chuck Noland’.

She is his only comfort. His only ally. 

He’s determined to wait out this quarantine, doing his best to avoid the others. 

Duke has seen these people under pressure. 

He knows exactly what he’s dealing with. 

Duke: “Alexa is the only motherf****r in this madhouse I ever respected.”

*offended butler noises from the other room*

Duke: “And also Alfred.”

[atlaswriting]

I’ve found god in a lot of things: in the bathroom tile marks left on my knees, the cool of the porcelain pressed soft to my cheek, at the bottom of a bottle of wine I had no business finishing.

I’ve found god, I’ve prayed and I’ve been ignored.

But Abram’s never been a place for holy. He isn’t consecrated ground and I’m not a believer.

I am thankful for every moment his lips are pressed against mine; a silent rebellion, an act of sinning so great that I could bathe in holy water and still burst into flames stepping into church.

Any smart reply is bitten back and choked as his hand tangles in my hair and kisses me. I bite, deliberately at his lip until he inhales sharply and pulls away feeling for the blood that starts to bead. With a quick turn, I’m facing up, hips still pinned to the cushion by his, eyes drinking in his entirety: loose shorts, no shirt—tan skin punctuated with black ink, I think : where has my boy gone? Dead and buried by this man on top of me.

I don’t hate it.

I can’t reach up, grab the shirt he isn’t wearing so I decide on the next best thing : the waistline of his shorts, until he’s close enough and I can dig my long nails into his shoulders and pull him back. He tastes like fire and everything I shouldn’t like—the air before a tornado, thick and lingering—I breathe in him, kiss him deep and find comfort in the familiar copper of blood.

Abram is no less gentle—fingertips digging into my hips, releasing only to slide beneath my shirt. This isn’t love, I think, this is familiarity. It is the heroin and the syringe. But I don’t stop, legs clench tighter around his waist and I push my hips up.

“Wait.” The word comes out as a whine and immediately he stops, blue eyes staring down at me: all man, but animal too. Something vicious and appealing lingers there and he pulls back.

I slide out from under him and Abram sits up on the couch, shifting uncomfortably. I take a breath, trying to calm the swarming bees in my chest that beg to be let out.

This is fucked, I want to say. We’re better people now—better people don’t do this.

Logic and reason get into the ring with need and only one comes out.

A heartbeat passes, a fork in the road where instead of deciding which way to go, I hurdle through like a comet. And like one, I throw my body on top of his, settling into his lap like a puzzle piece.

Like coming home.

I run my hands through his hair, a crown of gold that sits at the top of his head and I tell myself—he’s a king now, but he’s been by prince for over a decade.

Desperation pushes me closer against him, presses my mouth to his and kiss him with a careless desire. My teeth bite at his bottom lip, more feral than girl—but I’ve always been wild.

One of Abram’s hands dips into the hem of my shorts and his other slides up my body, circles around my throat and unlatches my mouth from his. My mouth falls open in silence, and despite the raw wrongness of it all: he doesn’t tear his eyes away from mine. Brows set in a straight line, he controls me like a puppet—bringing my neck to his mouth he bites and sucks at the skin.

Tomorrow is a day that doesn’t exist right now and consequence sits laughing from the sidelines.

The only thing that jars me from the moment is the soft jangling of Alfred’s collar. I toss a glance over my shoulders and then do I notice him on top of Belle.

I all but fall off of Abram, scrambling to my feet and rushing toward the dogs.

“Oh my god!” I shout, pulling him away by his collar, “Alfred! Abram! Oh my god!”

With the more space between us, it gives guilt a chance to wrap herself around me, warm and sharp and I rush to the bathroom, tonight’s dinner and the bottles of wine fight for first in the toilet. After I wash my mouth out I come back into the living room.

“I think you should go.” I say, reaching for Alfred’s collar once again. Tears burn my eyes, “this was a mistake. None of this should have happened. I’m sorry Ellie worried you enough to come over. Thank you for making sure I didn’t get murdered—but we’re,” I gesture to Alfred and I, “going to bed now.”

“Elise…”

“Please—just go.” I beg.

/ / / / /

( texts : abram )

Can we talk about this?

Elise?

Please.

I see you sitting in your backyard with your phone.

That’s not creepy at all.

Don’t do that.

Don’t put up the bitch guard again.

Oh okay, I’m a bitch.

Wtf.

Not what I said.

Don’t worry. Stassi won’t ever know.

You can go back to being Ken and Barbie.

That’s not what I… Can we talk.

There’s nothing to talk about.

/ / / / /

“So what’s his name?”

A wide smile splits Ellie’s face in half. She pulls out her phone and clicks on his instagram. @stefvasilev.

“He’s a King?” I grab the phone and go through the pictures. Most are selfies with over-saturated filters, some are of his alcohol collection and others are various pictures with other teammates. “Are you insane? Are you trying to drive Brody insane? ‘Cause beep beep.”

Ellie reaches and snatches her phone back, “I didn’t show you so that you could judge me,” she says bitterly. “It wasn’t like I planned it—okay, I did. I just wanted to make Brody jealous. At first. But then I actually started to like him.” She looks down at her phone and smiles then lays it face down. “Which he was fine with.”

I can feel my brow arch higher than usual, “I don’t know—how well do you know him?” I ask, “this could get really messy with Bri, Brody and Abram.”

She rolls her eyes and stands up, walking into my kitchen and looking through my refrigerator. “I’m sorry, do I need to go through my baby daddy and best friend when it comes to getting laid?” She asks, “Brody didn’t ask me before he started dating she-who-must-not-be-named and hasn’t stopped dating her despite the fact that she’s the embodiment of evil.” Ellie pouts when everything she finds is either organic, vegan or expired. “You need real food.”

“I just don’t want it to cause any fights. The last thing they need next season is to start an all out brawl in the middle of the ice for your hand.”

Ellie plops back down beside me, phone out and ordering a pizza. “Brody is never going to fight over me, he doesn’t love me anymore. Not with that leech brainwashing him.” Sitting up slowly, Ellie opens her mouth to say something but then shuts it. Suddenly her eyes go wide and she jumps nearly on top of me. “What is that and how did I not notice it before?”

My hand goes up to my neck and rubs, “It was… a parting gift from Laney.”

“Bullshit that girl couldn’t bruise an apple. You expect me to believe she ate half your neck?”

“It was Delaney, Ellie!”

“You’re such a bold face liar. I can’t believe it. You may wanna get down off your high horse there, Elise. You’re gonna fall off.” She grins at me and I push her away from me. “It’s fine, I don’t judge you.”

/ / / / /

“Simon, you don’t have to invite Abram to family dinner—he isn’t family.” I whisper harshly, I keep my voice low, peak into the living room where Abram is playing with Auguste on the floor and Stassi is showing   Anais’ pictures of Nashville. “You should just kick him out. Right now—tell him—,”

“Elise calm down,” he says, still focused on the pans and not burning anything. “Abram is family and you’re going to have to deal with that.”

I roll my eyes, a sharp knock at the door doesn’t pull my glare from my dad, “He stopped being family the day he left me.” My voice breaks unwillingly and a moment of regret crosses over Simon’s face. It quickly turns into horror as Cerise is let in by Anais.

“Maman?” I bring my glass of water to my lips, suddenly wishing it had been something a little stronger. “What are you doing here?”

She ignores the other’s in the living room, moves her eyes over Abram like he doesn’t exist and kisses both of my cheeks. “I can’t drop in and see my daughter and my nephew?”

“Not in my house.” Simon’s jaws tenses.

“Simon.” Says Anais softly.

When the shock settles and we’re all sitting at dinner, I almost feel bad for Stassi who is sitting closest to Cerise. I watch her, like a cat toying with a helpless mouse, as she controls the conversation with Stassi whose cheeks are bright red.

“I’ve been trying to get Abram to come to Nashville with me while he has his little break,” she says, “But he’s so difficult sometimes.” She laughs, nudges her elbow into his arm.

“Abram used to fly with me all the time.” I say, deciding then that alcohol was the only way I was going to get through the night and over-pouring myself a glass, “A lot of things about Abram are harder now.” I add, not able to control the bitterness that sneaks out.