#therebetterbepie

[batstalked]

his mind is too addled by the touch and the drink to even consider making a good decision. he should walk away. tell Dean that it had been fun and that he hoped the other found someone to spend his night with. but Tim was not in the business currently of doing what he is supposed to do. between what the other had scrawled across the napkin and the thumb running along the seam of his suddenly too tight jeans, all sense has left him. his free hand closes around the forgotten glass and downs what’s left of it in one go. it burns the entire way down but it’s hardly noticeable now that there was nothing tying him to the seat. swiftly he tucks all of the napkins they’d used into the pocket of his jacket and drops entirely too much money on the bar top before slipping off the chair. he’s going to try to ignore the fact that Dean is even taller still now that he was on his feet.

he doesn’t really wait for Dean to get up as well, just uses the grip on his wrist to tug him along. he’s sure that he’ll be following him anyway. this had been the whole point of the conversation right? to potentially take him home? the alcohol was making him too bold to even care of that wasn’t what Dean was hoping for. the chill of the night air does nothing to sober him. if anything it makes the thrill of it all that much worse. but now the ball was in Dean’s court. Tim had taken a taxi to get here. so unless Dean had walked, he would be the one leading the way.

and while he did; Tim was going to come up with entirely too many fantasies on the fly now that he knew Dean was an entire head taller than him. and likely a hundred pounds more in muscle. his mind is too vivid and he’s too inebriated to know whether the sound he wants to make actually leaves his lips or not. because holy shit. he could easily climb this man like a tree.

if Dean thought that Tim's mind hadn't already gone down that path, he was lying to himself. later her would blame the drink for his actions. blame it for tearing down all those carefully crafted walls that he'd put up. perhaps walking into the bar had been a mistake, but that was an issue for future Tim to deal with. right now he was just basking in the attention that was on him from the hottest guy in the room. maybe Valentine's Day wasn't the worst after all.

especially when Dean's hand drops to his hand to his thigh. blue drop to the hand in question, swallowing against the heat that rushes through his body. it was such simple touch and yet it had his entire body on edge for a vastly different reason than usual. he was thankful that his legs were currently crossed, unsure if he could completely trust his body not to utterly betray him.

he would very much like Dean not to mention the way that his hand shakes ever so slightly when he picks the pen back up.

it works for you. what about both? an offered promise? i think you know exactly what you're doing. and are a little too smug that it's working. i think you knew that the second you didn't get told to fuck off.

though Tim might not be entirely sure why. he was going to blame those damn green eyes. they were so strikingly pretty that it had thrown him off his mission for the night. yet, he was beginning to think that this was a far better mission that he would prefer to succeed at. once the napkin is slid back, his own hand finds Dean's wrist. there's no move to remove his hand from his thigh; if anything it's encouraging. middle finger tracing up along the tendon along the inside of Dean's wrist as high as he could reach before descending once more. repeating the action a few times while he waits for his response.

[normaltothemax]

@therebetterbepie

WOW

bold words for someone who makes up over half of those drafts

[dramatisperscnae]

@therebetterbepie [-drops a half-dead Dickiebird at your feet like a cat-]

He's tired. He's been pushing himself nonstop for days, ever since the cemetery. Since Jason. Since learning his baby brother hates him. He's always assumed that would be the case, of course - why the hell would Jason think otherwise? - but to have it confirmed…to know that Jason is alive and well, somehow, and wants nothing to do with him. Has disowned him. After everything else he's lost over these past few months, what else does Dick have left but his work?

He can't even go back to Bruce. Not now. Not after Blockbuster. After Bludhaven. And if Bruce knew about Jason? Knew and didn't tell him? What does that say about their relationship? More than enough. The weight of his failures is crushing him, each one parading through his head almost non-stop. Getting fired from the 'haven PD. Losing Babs. Killing Blockbuster. Catalina, god he wishes he could forget her; every time she crosses his mind it makes his skin crawl. Sophie, and Slade, and Chemo falling on Bludhaven, and now Jason, back from the dead…

The only thing that stops the parade is his work. It gives him something to focus on, something to do, even though a part of him knows this is stupid. Self-destructive. Dangerous. The rest of him doesn't care. Hell, it almost welcomes the pain. How many fights tonight alone? Six? Seven? He's lost count. Took a couple bullets here and there. A knife, once. And now he's finishing up on a herd of Talons that damn near came close to ripping him to shreds. But he's still standing, somehow.

Still standing.

Barely.

A part of him is disappointed by that.

Arm tucked over his stomach Dick stumbles his way out of the alley, fetching up against a wall once or twice and leaving a streak of blood behind each time. He should probably call for help. He has to keep moving. Get to the next fight. There's always a next fight. But maybe…

Is there a chill in the air?

Maybe this time there won't be. He runs into the wall again, slides down it. Tired. Getting darker. Light must be out here; happens sometimes in these alleys, no one bothers to check the bulbs on the regular. Footsteps approaching. Should reach for his sticks. Sit up. Too tired. Sticks already in hand. Doesn't matter. Can't move. And this is Gotham. Maybe the footsteps will just pass by. Just leave him here. It's dark, he's in black. Easy to miss. Right?

[qapsiel]

@therebetterbepie ;; meme (still accepting) Dean said: “I am a generator of hate, and my rage is a renewable resource, like sunshine.”

                             WHENEVER DEAN TALKS NONSENSE, Castiel usually tries to ignore him, but this time, he drops everything and rounds on the hunter as if he wants to punch him in the face. "You are not a generator of hate," he states firmly, looking ready for a fistfight if Dean disagrees with him. "You are one of the most caring people I know. You practically raised your brother on your own. You still take care of him. You're sensitive and empathic, and you try to protect everyone around you. You befriended vampires, werewolves — me. You try to hide this soft side under gruffness and machoism because you learned as a child that there's no room for it, but it's still there; no father, no monster managed to purge that. You're selfless, and you're loving. So stop saying — saying this bullshit about yourself." Well done, Dean, you made the angel use a bad word.

[thecrimsonhelmet]

@therebetterbepie

"No. Absolutely not."

[stupidiinspades]

@therebetterbepie | watch me sink back into my spn addiction-

" -sorry, i couldn' help overhearin'; you blokes are a bit LOUD, see. but ah- did i jus' hear you say the 666 SEALS ARE BEIN' CRACKED like a bloody melon?! "

[xxgotthedevilinsidexx-archived]

@therebetterbepie Asked:

half the time we’re fighting, i don’t know what we’re fighting about. (for sam)

【༶•⛧┈♛】     ――――    Sam   sighed,   running   a   hand   through   his   hair.   ❝   Maybe   that's   the   problem,   Dean.   We're   always   fighting,   but   we   never   talk   about   why.   ❞

❝   It's   about   more   than   we   hunt   monsters,   or   that   we   save   people,   ❞   Sam   replied,   his   voice   tinged   with   frustration.   ❝   All   this   tension   between   us,   it's   not   just   about   the   job.   ❞   Sam   watched   his   brother's   profile   in   the   dim   light   of   the   dashboard,   seeing   the   familiar   stubbornness   etched   in   every   line.

All   Sam   wanted   was   for   Dean   to   open   to   him.   How   could   he   share   his   issues   when   Dean   wouldn’t   do   the   same.   Every   time   he   tried   to   reach   out   to   his   brother   it   felt   like   he   was   grasping   at   smoke.   Dean   would   deflect   with   a   joke   or   change   the   subject,   leaving   him   feeling   more   isolated   than   ever.

The   Impala's   engine   rumbled   in   the   silence   that   followed,   punctuated   only   by   the   rhythmic   thump   of   tires   on   asphalt.   Sam   could   see   Dean's   jaw   working,   knew   he   was   fighting   the   urge   to   lash   out   or   shut   down   completely.

All   this   fighting   ?   It   was   getting   to   be   to   much   for   Sam   to   deal   with.

[benevolentgodloki]

[continued from here] @therebetterbepie

The stranger at the bar sipped dark red from his glass, which was thankfully only wine. He set it down and shifted around, elbows resting upon the counter, long legs stretching out to cross his smart shoes upon the floor. The gun did not seem to faze him at all.

"God. Loki. Mischief."

He put up an index finger after that last word.

"Within a remit you might find acceptable, not that I need it from you." His hand swept out to gesture to the bodies. "Unless you're a fan of sexual, laborious, or entertainment trafficking. Once upon a time I might have delighted in how inventive you humans are in the depths of your depravity, but I find misery and cruelty rather ends up spoiling the fun."

[normaltothemax]

@therebetterbepie & @sperboytm

It was probably a stupid thing to think about, given his current situation, but he couldn’t help but wonder absently: why were they called Fun Houses? No one ever actually had fun in a Fun House. Take Jason, for example. He was having a frankly terrible time, though that might have more to do with the clown and the restraints and the crowbar than the actual location.

He wasn’t sure where everything had gone so wrong. All he knew was that he’d been following a lead one minute, and now he was here—tied up on the ground, Joker beating the shit out of him with a crowbar, again. All he knew now was pain. It didn’t matter that he was older and bigger and stronger than he’d been as Robin. The Joker was laughing, laughing, laughing, and Jason was afraid, afraid, afraid.

Again and again, the crowbar came down. Crack! He was 21 and in a Gotham Fun House. Crack! He was 15 and in a warehouse in Ethiopia. Crack! Back and forth it went, over and over, Jason struggling to remain in the present, so completely consumed by his own terror that he was unable to even attempt to think of a plan to get away. Something he really needed to do, and soon.

Because his dad wasn’t coming.

He knew that with utmost certainty, this time. There was no hope to hold onto, because he knew better, now. Batman wasn’t god. Batman was fallible. Batman, Bruce, didn’t care about him as much as he’d thought as a kid, because if he had, this wouldn’t be happening again. The Joker would be decomposing in the ground, not gloating and sing-songing and cackling. No, Bruce wasn’t coming for him.

Jason was on his own, and he was going to die again, broken, terrified, and alone.

[dramatisperscnae]

@therebetterbepie gets a random starter because I can tbh

Ideally, Dick would be able to keep the viewpoint a secret from Dean until they were standing there. He'd actually toyed with the idea, asking Dean to wear a blindfold or something and guiding him all the way there. But at the same time, it wouldn't be difficult to pull a mild bait-and-switch on him. After all, Wayne Tower did have a public observation floor, given that it was still the tallest building in the city; the penthouse just happened to be a few floors above that, with a private rooftop patio and pool that made for an even better vantage point.

Plus there was nothing that said he couldn't do the driving. Dean loved his car - and with good reason - but Dick was quietly proud of his own vehicle, given he'd built the Nightbird himself from the ground up, and then of course there were any number of cars he could steal borrow from Bruce if he really wanted to. When he pulled up in front of Dean's cabin, though, it was in his own car, currently in muscle-car mode, her dark blue paint glimmering in the late afternoon sun. Leaning back in the driver's seat he fired off a text to the hunter.

[Text: Ash] You ready? [Text: Ash] Don't worry, I promise. No gargoyles. We'll be taking an elevator.

[littlexhades]

Closed Starter with @therebetterbepie

Slowly the Prince of the Underworld was learning about the surface, his exploration had taken him far from his home and finally getting to experience mortals proper was a treat he hadn't expected to have in his life time. His chthonic godly blood used to be bound to the Underworld and the Styx by the fates themselves, deeming Hades and his bloodline forbidden from stepping away from their home but the spell to break him and his sister free of it offered new hope for the young prince.

America was a strange land, and its people even stranger but Zagreus enjoyed the eccentricities. They were a hardy folk who enjoyed a bit of reverie here and there, reminded him of his cousin Dionysus and the mirth and spirit he always brought. Through his wanderings he'd noticed that one particular mortal seemed to be appearing at many of the stops he himself frequented.

Agent Young? Some kind of guard for the country's people who worked to unveil the cause of some dark dealings that seemed to be trailing the wayward son of Hades. Zagreus assumed that the man had no idea the true sinister nature that lurked behind the disappearances and miraculous saves of the individuals, after all what kind of human could guess that monsters of legends were locked onto the trail of his godly scent and humans kept running into them? Thankfully he was always there to kill the beast before it got out of hand, Lamia, Bloodless, Gorgons, all of which died at the end of the Stygian Blade.

Though the dive bar was crowded and rowdy with drunken dancing and laughter it didn't take much for his keen hunter's eye to find said man in the corner with a drink, walking over and sitting down on the opposite side of the booth before the other has a chance to retaliate does he swiftly snatch the file folder he'd been reading.

"You know we've really got to stop meeting like this, if you keep following me I'm going to start thinking I have an admirer." Flipping through the pages does the dark haired man give out a whistle in response. "We might as well work together on this one, seeing that we're both already here."

[thecreativeforge-a]

continued from x | @therebetterbepie

[Hell's Kitchen] had a few nightmares like that, yeah.

[Hell's Kitchen] just finishing a boring stakeout for nothing

[Hell's Kitchen] what's up?

[batstalked]

@therebetterbepie

being in a bar on Valentine's day was a little too cliche for Tim, yet there he was with the rest of the lonely bastards. and California seemed to be full of them. seating himself at the bar was the worst idea, it seemed to make him a target for the already incredibly intoxicated crowd. to the point that Tim had started to pretend that he was deaf and thankful he was proficient in ASL at this point in his life. it got more than enough people to leave him alone so that he could drink in peace.

that is until someone else slides up to the empty space beside him. risking a glance to the side, Tim regrets it instantly when he finds the prettiest green eyes staring back at him. god fucking damnit. suddenly the ASL trick didn't seem like something that he wanted to do if this guy started talking to him. but maybe that was the liquor talking now.

[xxgotthedevilinsidexx-archived]

From Here With @therebetterbepie

1:20am [Wild-Thing]: Oh just a little bit of this and that. [Wild-Thing]: Yay for free time, that's always the best kind. [Wild-Thing]: Good 'cause I'm bored. Come play with me.

[benevolentgodloki]

How long he had lain in these strange woods, Loki did not know. Throat sore, his body aching, his mind was addled with the flickering memories of purple fire and crackling blue, of the stench of blood and sweat and death. It had been the Tesseract's last gift to him, a saving grace perhaps, this last remnant of energy that triggered a rift between realities and dropped him through. Their last intention had been to get to Midgard. This place certainly smelt like Earth, if different.

He was dimly aware of being dragged through the undergrowth, of people talking gruffly. He couldn't make out their words yet, but he had the sense they intended ill with him. For a little while, he kept still, focusing his seidr to heal faster and gain clarity, letting them bear him to their nest, still clad in his battered battle armour.

It was when one tried to bite him that the vampires discovered their mistake. The woman howled, clutching her bleeding mouth where her fangs had broken against his skin. The sound sufficed to snap the god to his senses.

"How dare you," he rasped.

The next vampire was launched out of the shack's roof before their once prey was on his feet, clouting them with the force of a giant. Little did he know that in this world he was not the only one who had been about to give these creatures hell.

@therebetterbepie

[survivorofhellskitchen-a]

@therebetterbepie continued from x

It doesn't take her long to push her disapproving gaze and stance to the side as the man bends over- taking even less time to realize it was from pain. Quickly her hand comes up to his shoulder to try and help steady him.

His words cause her brows to crease, cerulean hues quickly scanning him over as if they'd be able to see the damage done to his ribs. "Jesus..."

"You should go to a hospital," Karen comments as he straightens, letting her arm fall back to her side. "At the very least they can get you pain killers.....but you're not going to do that, are you?" A slow sigh leaves her lips as fingers pull through strands of hair.

".....You need to rest....where are you staying?"