#to be clear bernard is not put off by this at all

[headcanonthings]

*During their first date* Bernard: So… what do you like to do in your free time? Tim, sleep deprived with no filter: I like to stalk. Bernard: Oh! Well I like to make Youtube videos Tim: I know.

[incorrectbatfam]

batfam members being the smartest and dumbest person in the room at the same time

Damian: Here's the plan: we wait for your mother to put the pie on the windowsill to cool. Then, I'll spoof a call to her work phone in order to draw her away. That's when you come in and take it. Are we clear?

Jon: *walks up to Lois*

Jon: Mom, can Damian and I have a piece of pie?

Lois: Of course, here you go.

———————

Cullen: I tripped over my shoelaces again.

Harper: I can make self-tying shoelaces that can only come apart when you use a password-protected app.

Cullen: ...I was just thinking of wearing velcro.

———————

Duke: Check out my project! Not to brag, but I think I know who's winning the science fair.

Izzy: What is it?

Duke: It's a chamber that excites nanoparticles to generate short-term high-intensity thermal energy that can alter organic matter to make them suitable for human consumption. What do you think?

Izzy: Funny, I have one at home. Only I call it a microwave.

———————

Dinah and Babs: *talking*

Dinah: One sec, I'm getting a call.

Dinah: *answers her phone*

Dinah, immediately hanging up: Never mind.

Barbara: Was your number leaked? I have a list of possible suspects and plans for dealing with each one.

Dinah: Relax, it was just spam.

———————

Bernard, with a mic: Welcome back to MasterChef: Young Justice. We're down to our finalists, Red Robin and Spoiler. Let's see what they brought us today.

Tim: I made a nutrient-dense mass-conserving meal replacement with all essential components compressed in a gelatinous cube for a quick, on-the-go meal during our off-world missions. I'm serving it with a protein shake served in a vacuum-sealed pouch made completely out of recycled materials.

Steph: I made authentic Belgian waffles using techniques dating back to the 1958 Brussels World Fair. I'm serving it with a warm Swiss chocolate ganache, Japanese white strawberries, and homemade ube powdered sugar. For a drink, we have a cappuccino made with fair-trade Colombian dark roast beans and milk sourced from local farmers.

Kon, Bart, and Cassie: *taste and discuss*

Kon: You're both eliminated.

Tim and Steph: What?!

Cassie: Red Robin, the point of this competition is to showcase taste and culinary artistry, not just your engineering skills.

Bart: And Spoiler, you were supposed to make soup.

———————

Cass: *sneaks out her room*

Cass: *rolls down the hall*

Cass: *jumps over the couch*

Cass: *crawls through the vents*

Cass: *climbs down the rafters*

Cass: *slides down a gas pipe into the Batcave*

Cass: *lands in front of the door*

———————

Dick: I'll infiltrate the Iceberg Lounge with my state-of-the-art wearable camouflage that uses reverse psychology to throw all suspicions off of me by catching people's attention in a completely different way.

Jason: Pfft, lame. You should check out my latest tech. It's a potassium nitrate–based mixture that can be activated with a built-in timer to both create a diversion and incapacitate more of the Penguin's cronies at once.

Dick: That's stupid. We need to be subtle.

Jason: No, what we need is efficiency.

Dick: Roy, what do you think?

Roy, looking up from his phone: I think one of you wants to dress in drag and the other made a bomb.

———————

Bruce: I need the kids to steer clear of Crime Alley tonight so I can deal with a situation but I don't want to bench them because then they'll be mad at me. Any ideas?

Alfred: Give them paperwork.

Selina: Send them on a wild goose chase.

Kate: Get them to bench themselves.

Renee: Wow.

Renee: You all suck.

[cosmicpoutine]

leaving a lil rant here :]

I love Tim and his ships sm. Me personally, I only really ship TimKon. Those two are perfect for eachother and have so much clear queer coding that it’s crazy, and they have dialogue that’s just. gay shaped.

I also get TimBart, I don’t ship it romantically but I get why people do!! Tim and Bart are close as well, and the balance they get between ‘depressed tired wet cat’ and ‘living breathing embodiment of adhd’ is great.

I also get TimBartKon, they’re a trio. They are always a trio, so many people like to bring up how TimKon has so much coding and one of the big examples they use is when Tim tried to clone Kon. You know who else he tried to clone? Bart.

The only Tim ship I don’t get is TimBern, or any ship involving those two. When Bernard first appears, he’s Tim’s bully. He actively makes fun of tim and puts him down and then that character is forgotten about until Tim comes out as bi, then they just rework his character and go “haha guys this is his boyfriend not bully ygs are crazy” and just forget about all the bad stuff Bernard did? Reworking a character is great and all but, it just feels a bit weird and out of place for me. There’s always going to be that certain toxicity for TimBern, at least for me.

homie... bully??? im flabbergasted- im speechless- im jason todd (dead)

okay, im gonna start off by saying you have all the right to not ship them, and im not here to defend timbern as a ship. im here to defend BERNARD DOWD.

first thing bernard does is give tim advice about teachers, and he clearly says they're gonna be good friends.

if bernard was a bully, tim wouldn't hang around him so much. besides, i hate it when people place tim as a helpless little boy who would get bullied. he has put himself in situations where he looks weak on purpose to keep his identity safe, but he's not a victim at all. tim is a social butterfly because he's really good at masking and reading people.

not to mention, both bernard and darla push tim a lot because they're trying to get him to open up and be closer to them, but he keeps pushing them away. tim is a professional liar.

and when tim has to quit robin and start hanging out with normal people, he invites bernard over.

and bernard is acting relatively normal, and he wants to play video games and talk about how hot tim's stepmom is.

bernard is a normal teenager who has no idea one of his friends is the hero he's so obsessed with. he even shows concern for robin dying and makes up an entire conspiracy theory about batman havin a robin orphanage. you can tell he's afraid of robin being gone for real because at this point they haven't seen robin in months bc tim retired.

i dont know what about all of these interactions gave you the vibe that he's a bully because all i see is a normal teenager teasing his friends and being jealous tim gets more bitches.

im not saying that bernard was never mean or weird around tim, but he definitely wasn't actively bullying tim.

bernard is obnoxious and cocky, yes. but thats just because they wrote him as a real person. he's the school's chameleon, maybe even a little bit of a loser, too. he knows everyone but keeps a safe distance so that he doesn't get pushed into a box. im not sure if, at this point, he was already in a cult or being indoctrinated, but when we see his parents and the dowd home in tim drake: robin that just doesn't look right.

also homie talk about "forgetting all the bad things bernard did" (which in my opinion is none but okay lets follow that logic) everyone forget about all the bad things batman did to tim, he was not a kind and loving mentor, he was cruel to both tim and steph. we forget that batman was kind of an asshole to damien in the beginning. all those things are forgotten for the sake of the batfam.

in conclusion: we're just so used to the idea that superheroes can only ever form strong friendship bonds by having near death experiences together that we forget that the secret identifies exist and that the people who know them by their legal name also means a lot to them. after all, these people are the reason why they're heroes.

[fab-bladesmith]

A Schlachtschwert, early XVIth century.

Spring steel blade of flat hexagonal section for most its length, mild steel fittings with hollow brass ball finials on the cross. Leather over thread over wooden core for the grip, and leather over wood for the sleeve (more about that below). This is a tentative reconstruction of what a "proper" Landsknecht Greatsword could look like, such a they appear on period artwork, be it paintings like the Siege of Alesia by Melchior Feselen (1533) or the Battle of Pavia kept at the Royal Armouries (or the tapestries depicting that same battle, now at the Museo Capodimonte, made after sketches by Bernard van Orley), the Victory of Charlemagne over the Avars near Regensburg by Albrecht Altdorfer (1518), or the many drawings, prints and woodcuts by artists such as Reinhart von Solms, Jörg Breu, the great Hans Burgkmair, Niklas Stör, Hans Holbein (both Elder and Younger), Virgil Solis, Hans Sebald Beham, the legendary Urs Graf, Daniel Hopfer, Erhard Schön, Hans Schäufelein and others...All of them combined to give this result.

Such swords would be seen not only in the hands of a Doppelsoldner, but also carried by your Feldwaybel or an Edelman. And it would be called a Schlachtschwert in the very captions of the illustrations I mentioned earlier (see Erhard Schön). *Not* a "two-handed Katzbalger", though the cross obviously echoes the S/8-shaped guard of the latter. We clear on that ? Good.

Very few of such swords are kept in museums out there, with a lot of them leaving me dubious regarding their authenticity. The one in Berlin seems to me to be the most genuine of all, and it is on its proportions that I based this piece, though the Berlin sword shows a fancy, diamond-pattern decoration on the quillions very much recalling the Katzbalger kept in the Museum of London. Most if not all period illustration do not show such fancy details on the crossguards though ; they are actually rather plain, without even the ribbing/threading/filework you can find on Katzbalger crosses. Hence I kept this one rather plain, with a square cross section with rounded corners, and some light filework at the center. I also bent the quillions into an offset 8-shape rather than a symmetrical one, to be more consistant with the earlier examples visible in period artwork.

The main questioning was that sleeve at the base of the blade, present on a lot of the period artwork; its obvious function was to provide a spot on which to put the other hand - as can be deduced from Marozzo's teachings for fighting against polearms - but the main issue was how was it made/what was it made of. Elaborating on my previous experience and studies of such things on later Schlachtschwerter, I went for a basic construction of leather glued/stitched over a wood core made of two flat slabs, and force-slid down the blade. There is more than enough friction to keep it well in place, but it is still possible to take it off albeit with some effort. The end of the leather is cut according to period artwork, and flares out to accommodate the mouth of a scabbard if needed. A simple decoration of plain lines on one side, and checkered on the other makes it also consistant with the artwork.

It is 139 cm long, the blade is 1083 mm long, 45 mm wide with a thickness of about 7 mm at its base, tapering down to 3.4 mm near the point. The span of the crossguard is about 21 cm, though from one ball end to the other there's about 73 cm of steel. Weight is 2547 grams, point of balance 13.5 cm from the cross.

Twenty-eight hundred EuroUnits and it's yours.

[introspectivememories]

what's wrong with data analyst bernard?

summary: tim's a workaholic ceo. bernard is, to put it simply, a down-on-his-luck loser with a kid to take care of. somewhere along the line, they meet. (very loosely based on the 2018 hit kdrama, "what's wrong with secretary kim?")

A/N: for @chamiryokuroi bc this fanart has given me brainrot since the moment i saw it. but also bc, i missed writing and your art helped. i hope you like it. (more notes at the end.) (AO3 LINK)

Today is a good day, Bernard thinks happily, brand new ID badge bouncing on his tie. It's his first day at Wayne Ent. and Mori had sent him off with a hug and muttered, "have a good day, Tou-san." It's been bouncing around in his head all day. Tou-san, Tou-san, Tou-san, he's really a dad now. He's got to make sure Mori has everything he needs and this new job is going to make sure he can do that.

Shaking his head once to clear it, he takes a sip of the complimentary coffee a team member bought him for his first day. His team leader, Young-joon Lee, is taking him on a tour of the building. Young-joon is a wonderful man in his late 30s but it's very clear that he's been consumed by the office lifestyle.

"...and here is our magnificent lobby!" Young-joon is saying as he tunes back in. His team leader spreads his arms wide out as he speaks, "Everyone knows the lobby but it's my personal philosophy that making friends or at least being on amicable terms with the ground floor staff will make your life easier."

Bernard laughs politely, "I know what you mean. I can't tell you how many times being nice to the host at the restaurant I used to work at saved my butt during rush hour."

"A man after my own heart!" Young-joon says, smiling widely as he leads him to the help desk.

Bernard tilts his head up to look at the skylight. It's a gorgeous thing with little animal motifs running alongside it. It lights up the lobby bringing a welcoming feeling into it. With the sunlight pouring into the room, along with the din of busy workers in slacks running to and fro, it really feels like stepping into a movie.

Are you seeing me Darls?, he thinks with a childlike glee, hand coming up to thumb at his badge again, I made it!

"This, my friend," Young-joon says, pulling up to the help-desk, "is our wonder-duo. Tamara and Abhishek. They practically run this building. Lord knows we'd be tripping all over ourselves without them."

Tamara and Abhishek smile as they get introduced.

"They run this building?" he asks confusedly.

"You see, young padawan," Abhishek says, "not only do we help the people that come in here asking questions or for instructions, we also answer any questions the staff has for us."

"Things like, 'What's HR’s number?' or 'Can you page Data for me?' or 'No seriously, I'm calling HR on this man right now. What is their number?'" Tamara says grinning.

Bernard laughs. It feels like that's all he's been doing since he got here. "You have to tell me the story on that one day."

"Sorry," Tamara says, faux-apologetic, "the minimum clearance on that story is half-a-year. Gotta level up."

His cheeks hurt from smiling. This is his and Mori's new beginning. This is where they level up. Nothing's gonna stop him now.

"Do you know the story behind that one?" he asks, turning to Young-joon.

"Of course! But where would be the fun in telling you? You have to stay the six months and if luck comes my way, longer."

"You want me for longer?"

"Of course, I saw the way you worked during those practice problems in the interview. I had to fight the other team leaders for you. It was brutal."

"Get back I say!" Young-joon says, miming a sword fight. A pleased warmth builds in his chest; they wanted him, they wanted him!

Darls you better be fucking watching this. I'm movin' up in the world.

"Ooh, send me that footage. I wanna see our newest recruits skills," Abhishek says.

"You got the data team fighting over you?" Tamara asks, eyebrows raised, "I wanna see it—"

Whatever she was going to say is cut off by the sound of both of their pagers pinging. Immediately going stock still, they start typing on their computers.

Bernard turns to Young-joon confused but his team leader looks like nothing is out of the ordinary.

"The boss is coming." Young-joon says, like that's a reasonable explanation for two people shutting down in the middle of the conversation, "It's always quite a spectacle and they always have to notify the other execs. Just watch."

Still, the boss? Maybe Bruce Wayne will say 'hi' to him and he'll charm the CEO and Mr. Wayne can figure out a way to—

No, no. He's done making those kinds of fantasies. Nobody is coming to help. Bernard is going to figure out his life on his own, he is going to take such good care of his kid, and he is not going to wait for some rich billionaire to swoop in and take care of him. He got this far didn't he? He'll get even farther.

He and his team leader lean against the help desk sipping coffee as they wait for the CEO to come in and sure enough, a black Rolls Royce pulls up to the driveway in the front. The minute the door opens, flashes from the paparazzi's cameras start going off. Out steps a bodyguard in a black suit with an umbrella opened. From below the umbrella he sees a nice pair of brown loafers step out. The CEO seems to be wearing a navy blue suit today. The paparazzi roars and the flashes increase.

"Oh wow," a man remarks a few feet away from him, "the circus is strong today, huh?" His friend laughs.

A woman wearing red heels steps out after the CEO, the paparazzi flashes decrease dramatically. More bodyguards exit after the woman and form a square around the CEO and his assistant/secretary. They shuffle towards the entrance where he sees the elderly doormen greet the executives with a smile. Whatever they say is lost to the sound of the city but the doormen laugh and push the doors open.

Young-joon's been making small talk throughout the entrance and Bernard tries to keep up but whatever the hell is going on at the entrance is way more interesting than anything his team leader is talking about. As they enter the guards spread out and dissolve the square. The woman comes into view first, red heels with a black slacks and a white button down. She's holding a long coat in one hand and a laptop bag slung over her shoulder. She's gorgeous and clearly the one in charge, going by the way she barks orders at the guards.

Young-joon says something and he turns around to respond, grabbing his coffee cup off the desk counter. His CEO's loafers tap across the lobby's marble floor, something about it is comforting. A lull in the room's conversations causes the CEO's voice to carry over.

"...Tam, make sure the quarterly reports are on my desk by at least 4 today and make sure to push back the sales meeting by 30 minutes to an hour, the board wants to talk — Oh Mr. Bardakcı! Thank you for stay—..."

Bernard's heart jackrabbits in his chest. He knows that voice but- it can't be. It's not possible; he chose Wayne Enterprises for a reason. He's not supposed to be here. He's supposed to be at his father's company. Unless... there was a merger? No, that seems like the kind of thing the news wouldn't've shut up about. He would've known.

When was the last time you had time to sit down and read the news, Bear? Darls says inside his head

She's right. With filing for custody of Mori and graduating from college and the job search, he hasn't had time for much else. It's entirely possible that he could've missed one of the biggest mergers of the decade.

Fuck, Fuck.

He wasn't supposed to be here. Bernard was supposed to be moving on. He was supposed to be building a life for himself away from the shadows of his childhood. He was supposed to be forgetting that Tim Drake ever existed.

He has to make sure though. Turning his body around, he prays that it's not the man he thinks it is. But sure enough, there stands Tim Drake, resplendent in a navy blue suit and a golden tie.

Golden ties for golden boys, he thinks absentmindedly.

The suit fits him perfectly, stretching across his shoulders and wrapping around his waist. Even the tie looks knotted perfectly. How long did it take him to learn, Bernard wonders. He could never get it right back in high school. Does his assistant Tam do it- no, no! This is why he didn't apply to Drake Industries. Bernard can't do anything around Tim and Tim is never going to care enough about him to stay.

Tim's head seems to be turning in his direction and Bernard whips his head back to make sure Tim doesn’t even catch a glimpse of him. His hand twitches violently enough that the coffee cup falls out of his hand and spills all over the floor. The cup rattles deafeningly on the floor. Bernard can't fucking breathe.

"-ernard? Bernard!" his team leader's voice cuts through the haze in his head. Young-joon looks concerned, "Are you okay?"

He blinks slowly, "...What?"

"I said, 'Are you okay?’ You look like you've seen a ghost?"

No, Bernard thinks, seeing Darls would be preferable to whatever level of hell I've found myself in.

"I'm—, I'm fine." he says rather unconvincingly. His eyes dart back to the spill, "What am I saying? There's a large puddle of coffee on the floor. I—, I should get some paper towels for that."

"Do you have any paper towels, Wonder-Duo?" he asks, trying desperately to ignore Tamara and Abhishek's concerned looks.

"I already called the custodial staff," Tamara says slowly, like she’s trying not to spook him, "but if it makes you feel any better," she pulls out a huge stack of paper towels, "go crazy, I guess."

Bernard takes a handful of paper towels and gets to work. The cleaning is meditative and with each swipe of the paper towel, the puddle gets smaller. Bernard pretends the puddle is his feelings for Tim. Swipe, forget about the 4pm milkshakes and his laughter when Darls snorted milk out of her nose. Swipe, don't think about the way he used to smell. Swipe, he left and never looked back; you don't look back either.

The tap, tap, tap of loafer on marble is getting closer to them for some reason. Why is it getting closer? Does it not have staff meetings, market research, and people to leave behind?

"What is going on here?" Tim asks.

"Nothing much, sir." Abhishek responds, "Newbie just spilled some coffee."

Abhishek, no!

"Oh is that all? And he took the initiative to start cleaning instead of waiting for the custodial staff. You made a good choice, Young-joon."

"Thank you, sir!" Young-joon says, "I was taking him on the tour when you came in. Most newbies love the show so I thought we'd stop here for a little bit."

Tim laughs. Bernard hates that his heart still skips a beat at the sound.

A pair of brown loafers and a wool-covered knee slowly appear in his vision. Why is Tim crouching in front of him? Why won't this man leave him alone?

"This looks like quite a lot of work, let me help."

You can help by leaving me the hell alone, he thinks uncharitably.

"I hope you found the facilities to your liking," Tim continues, like he hadn't heard Bernard's thoughts, "My name is Tim Drake-Wayne, CEO."

I know, he wants to say. I know you're Tim Drake. I know you like to skateboard and that you stared at Tony Hawk's photo for an hour every day in high school ‘cause didn't want to be one of those people who didn't recognize him. I know you struggled with your dad not really being there. I know you loved Mrs. Winters as much as you loved your mom. I know that you like history more than any other subject even though your best was always math.

Bernard says nothing instead.

Tim laughs awkwardly and Bernard knows he isn't helping the conversation along but whatever, he's allowed to be petty, right?

"I assure you, whatever you heard in the tabloids and the news, isn't true. I promise I won't bite…," Tim’s voice trails off as Bernard lifts his head.

"...Bernard?" Tim whispers, he looks like he's seen a ghost.

Bernard tries for a smile, he's pretty sure it comes out looking like a grimace.

"Sir," he says nodding curtly, hands still moving to sweep up the coffee puddle.

Tim's hand reaches out to touch his face, as if to make sure Bernard is really there. Bernard recoils as Tim's hand grazes his cheek. Tim's hand hangs in the air uselessly.

"Bernard?" Tim says again, as if to make sure his eyes aren't playing tricks on him.

"That's my name, Sir," he says through clenched teeth, "don't wear it out."

He can feel Young-joon and the Wonder-Duo's confused stare but he says nothing. What would he even say, really?

Hey, this is my old friend Tim Drake? Hey, I used to know him like the back of my hand? Hey, our best friend died and it feels like I'm the only one still grieving? Hey, in my junior year, five different gangs shot up my school and my best friend died in my arms and he left and I had to pick up the pieces by myself? Hey, I'm the idiot that's still in love with Tim Drake?

The clack of Tam's heels comes as a welcome distraction.

"Tim!" she says, grabbing his arm and pulling him away, "What the hell do you think you're doing? We have to go talk to the board. Build rapport with your employees later."

Tim stumbles to his feet, "Yes, but—, I—, This is—"

He sounds like he's glitching. Bastard. Is it really such a surprise to see Bernard in a well paying job? Even Tam is starting to look a little concerned now.

"Explain later," she commands, dragging Tim behind her. Bernard keeps his head down and continues wiping up the coffee puddle. Sneaking a glance upward shows him that Tim keeps turning back around to stare at him.

For a moment their eyes meet, brown against blue. 'Bernard?' he sees Tim mouth. Bastard, saying his name so many times. Doesn't he know what that does to Bernard? Why does Tim insist on breaking his heart again and again and again? Was once not enough?

He's tired of putting these walls up and just for a second, he lets them come down. Let Tim see the entirety of his brokenness. Tim already has his heart, he can have this too.

'Tim' he mouths back, smiling sadly. Tim looks stunned and the rage that had been simmering in his gut begins to boil over.

Do you see what I've become? Do you see how thoroughly Grieves ruined me? Is this not your doing too? Why did you leave? Have you ever visited Darla? Why was it so easy for you to not look back? Was I not your friend? Or was it just a time pass? Why wasn't I enough for you to stay?

He watches until the elevator doors close, separating him from Tim once again. His body sags like a marionette cut from its strings and his fingers clench uselessly around the coffee soaked paper towels. A hand lands on his shoulder and he flinches.

"Hey, hey," Young-joon soothes from where he's crouched right next to him. When did Young-joon crouch down? How much time has he missed? "It's just me, Bernard. Are you okay? What was that? Does our CEO know you?"

He exhales shakily. He needs to get out of here. He needs to sob hard enough he throws up. He needs the steady press of a knife on his back. He needs things he's not allowed to have anymore.

Bernard shoots up so fast the world spins around him. holding onto the desk for support, he tries to smile at his team leader. It stretches across his face misshapenly.

"I'm—, I'm sorry," he says stumbling over his words in a rush to get them out, "I have to—"

He has to what? Pretend to not see Darls out of the corner of his eye? Pretend like his hands don't have blood on them? Pretend like he isn't seeing bullet wounds every time he closes his eyes?

"—go to the bathroom," he finishes lamely. Gathering up all of the paper towels, he walks away dazedly, ignoring Young-joon's calls behind him. He shoves the towels in the nearest trashcan, letting his feet lead him to the nearest bathroom.

The bathroom is thankfully empty when he enters and he locks the door behind him. Sliding down the door, he exhales shakily. There's not enough air in this room; he can't breathe. The fluorescent lights hum above their coverings. The one on the left flickers. Who's bright idea was it to install school lights in a business office's bathroom?

The world outside the bathroom rushes on too loudly. Somebody is talking about their vacation. Someone is bemoaning their presentation today. His chest is getting tighter. His hands come up to tug on his hair. Why can't he breathe?

The exhales are coming quicker and quicker. Something comes tapping down the hallway. It's the gunmen, it has to be. A quick glance down tells him all he needs to know: he's covered in blood.

It's Lila's, he thinks dazedly, I had to carry her into the office. Or no, it's Olu's. I held him when he died. He said, he said, what did he say?

Why can't he remember? He hits his head with the heel of his palm.

Think he tells himself, we have to tell Olu's parents what he said. He said—, he said—.

His body sags.

Oh now he remembers. He said, "I don't wanna die Bernard."

A whimper tears itself out of his throat and he slaps a palm over his mouth. There's blood smeared across his face now, he must look like he walked out of a slasher film. He has to be quiet. if he's too loud, the gunmen will find them and then they'll all be dead.

Cry quietly, he tells himself, Darls doesn't need—

Darla! How could he forget about Darla with a hole in her gut? He needs to get to her. Lurching forward, he scrabbles across Mrs. Castillo's linoleum floor. He's smearing Olu's blood everywhere. Why won't Nikhil stop fucking crying so loudly? Goddamn freshmen and their hysterics. Where is Tim? Is he safe? He can't lose both friends today, please Lord, please.

BANG!

A violent flinch tears through his body. He sobs audibly this time, gagging on his spit. It's the gunmen, it has to be. He hasn't even held Darls' hand or counted Tim's moles for the last time. Where are the Darls? She shouldn't be alone. She doesn't like violence like this.

"Why didn't you save me, Bear?" a voice asks from behind him.

He freezes. Slowly he turns around and nearly yells in shock. Falling back on his butt, he stares up at his friend.

(He has to be quiet, he has to be quiet, he has to be quiet-)

Darls is standing behind him still in her crop top and cargo pants. Her once smooth midsection, bloodied and warped. The bullet wound still drips blood.

Plink, plink, plink.

Bernard hates the scent of iron.

"Why didn't you save me, Bear?" she asks, her voice echoing, "I thought we were friends."

There’s blood dripping down the side of her mouth. Now he remembers, the blood on him isn’t Olu’s or Lila’s — although there is that too — it’s almost overwhelmingly Darla’s. He’s covered in it. Elbows deep in it. It streaks up his arms like a macabre tattoo. He wore a white shirt to school today. The stains will never come out. He is Carrie at the end of prom, mortified and humiliated.

He crawls backwards until his back hits the wall, the impact knocking him out of the worst of that night. He's back in the bathroom. The lights hum loudly overhead. Darla hasn’t left yet.

She tilts her head, “Why didn’t you help me, Bear? I thought we were friends.”

“We are,” he rasps out, “we are friends.”

“Are we?” her eyes have no pupils. His Darls had eyes that shone in the sunlight. His Darls is dead. “Then why am I still bleeding? Why am I still hurting? Why is there a bullet in my stomach, Bear?!”

She’s shouting by the end and he flinches. His hands can’t seem to stop tugging at his hair. The blood must’ve smeared all over it. Talk about taking strawberry blond literally.

“I swear I did everything I could Darls,” he sobs out quietly, voice cracking, “I followed all of Mrs. Castillo’s instructions as best I could. I put pressure and tied the dressing as tight as I could.”

“You thought that was enough?” she snarls, hands coming down to grip the wound. It twists grotesquely; he gags, “You think any of that matters when I’m dead and you’re still alive?”

“Please, please. You know I wouldn’t leave you to die, Darls. Please, please, please believe me.”

“Liar, liar!” she screams, blood dripping out of her mouth onto her pink LOVE shirt. It darkens as each drop hits it. Soon it’ll be completely drenched and she’ll be drowning in it. Where did his smiling friend go? “I’m dead, Bear! I’m dead, dead, dead and it’s all your fault! Why didn’t you save me?! Why didn’t you save me?!”

He keens, body curling in on itself. One hand goes down to press on his throat; he’s making too much noise. Nikhil’s just a freshman. He shouldn’t have to die just because Bernard couldn’t shut up for once in his life.

“Please,” he whispers raggedly, “I tried, I tried. I swear I tried, Darls.”

“It hurts, Bear,” she sobs. Darla’s too young to be sounding so wrecked, “It hurts so much. Please help me.”

All of sudden, it’s too much. The taste of iron sits heavy on his tongue and Darla won’t stop sobbing. His fingers fumble for his phone and he presses one. It rings once, twice and finally on the third ring does a voice answer.

“Bear?” the other side says groggily.

“Ty please, I can't do this anymore,“ he sobs.

Tyrone suddenly sounds a lot more alert, “Bear what’s going on?”

“Darla won’t stop crying and she keeps on screaming that it’s my fault she died.” he wails, “I know I should’ve done more but please, can you tell her I tried? That I stayed with her until the end? She won’t listen to me, Ty. She won’t listen to me.”

There’s a muffled yell of ‘Babe!” on the other end. “Yeah,” Ty breathes out, “I’ll tell her.”

“You put me on speaker, okay?” Ty instructs, “And you gotta tell me if she’s nodding or if she’s gone or if she said anything, alright? I can’t see her.”

“Okay,” he whispers, pulling the phone away from his ear to press the speaker button.

“You tell me when to start, Bear,” he says, voice filling the bathroom. Darla looks up from where she’s sobbing.

“You can start now Ty,” he rasps out, holding the phone out.

“Hey Darla,” Ty says, “Bear told me you said a lotta mean things about him. Stuff like, ‘he’s the reason you died’ and that ‘he never cared’. Darla, you gotta believe me when I say Bear never stopped caring. He held your hand the whole way through. Told you stories about all the things you two were gonna do once you got out of that nurse’s office. He tried, Darla, honest. I’ve never seen him as focused as when you stopped breathing and Mrs. Castillo had him give you CPR. He couldn’t stop sobbing the whole time.”

“But I’m still dead,” she says.

“But I’m still dead,” he repeats.

Ty inhales sharply, “Yeah,” he says thickly, “you are. And I’ll never stop being sorry about that. But you can’t take that out on Bear. He’s just trying to live his life.”

Darls’ face twists up like a childs, “But it hurts,” she cries.

“But—, but it hurts,” he repeats, voice hitching.

Ty curses, “Oh, fuck. I can’t do this. Babe, can you—?”

“Yeah, of course.” 

“Hey, Darla. It’s me, Jimmy from the football team. I don’t know if you remember me but I remember you. After high school, me and Tyrone ended up getting married. Somewhere between shitty weed brownies and bad college parties, we fell in love. Isn’t that nice?”

Darls nods; he tells them as such.

“We visited you after the ceremony. I hope you felt that wherever you are these days. But the point I’m trying to make is that from all I’ve told you just now, you can probably figure out that Ty and I didn’t go pro like we planned. The shooting fucked up Ty’s knee and and my arm. After the hospital stays, playing football for a whole bunch of people just didn’t sound appealing anymore. We’re high school teachers now. Ty teaches math and I teach gym. When it rains or gets cold, my arm and Ty’s knee hurts like hell. But Darla, it doesn't hurt forever. It gets better, I promise.”

“Darla,” Jimmy says, voice unusually serious, “you’re right, you are dead and it does hurt. I’m sorry, I’ll never stop being sorry. I don’t know if it’ll ever go away for you; I’m not too much of an expert on the supernatural. Ty’s the smart one, after all. But I love you, Ty loves you, Bear loves you. I hope that when it hurts the most you can use that as a balm.”

“Auntie Bea loves you too!” Ty’s mom hollers from the background, “Aunt Betty, too!”

Ty laughs wetly and Jimmy snorts, “Does that sound okay?” they ask.

Darls smiles, her teeth stained red from all the blood that built up in her mouth. Bernard misses her with an ache he feels in his bones. Darls nods.

“She nodded,” he says quietly. He blinks once and she’s gone. Where did she go? Doesn’t she know that the gunmen are still at large? She needs to be somewhere safe. He can’t lose a friend today.

“Bear, Bear, you gotta breathe. Take a deep breath for me, c’mon,” Jimmy says.

“She’s gone, Jim. She’s gone again. Why does she keep leaving?” he says, crying. His body can’t stop trembling. How long has he been here? How much time has he missed?

“I miss the cult,” he whispers, “I never had things like this happen when I was with them.”

“Yeah,” Ty snaps, “‘Cause you were high off of like 50 different pain meds ‘cause you let them whip you.”

“Ty, not helping.”

“Move over, let me talk to him."

"Hey, sweetheart," Auntie Bea's voice crackles through his tiny speaker, "I know you're tired and I know you're hurting. I know you miss the cult but you gotta breathe for me, okay? You're gonna pass out otherwise."

"I can't, I can't," he gasps out. 

"Sure you can, you just gotta tell me five things you can see. Can you list those five things for me?"

Bernard desperately tries to get his breathing under control, "The sink is dirty."

"Good, good. Anything else?" 

"The tiles need to be re-grouted."

Aunt Betty barks out a laugh. Bernard's lips twitch upward.

"Keep going."

"My pants, my white shirt, my ID badge," he rattles off.

They talk him through the rest of the grounding techniques and by the time he feels like he's in control again, he's exhausted. His eyes hurt and his throat is dry. 

"Can you tell us why you spiraled so hard, Bear? This hasn't happened in a long time," Jimmy asks.

"I spoke to Tim again," he says simply. He pushes himself up onto his feet and walks over to the sink. Setting the phone down on the counter, he grips the sink with both hands and just breathes. The Bernard in the mirror looks like he just came out of a warzone, eyes haunted, hair messed up. 

"Oh fuck," Ty says, "Where did you even meet him?"

"At my new job at Wayne Ent."

"Why would you apply there?" Jimmy asks, stressed.

"I didn't know! It's not like I've had a lotta time in the past few years to check the news!"

"Well, whatever, what’s done is done." Ty says, ever practical, "Are you going to quit?"

"No!” he says vehemently.

“No,” he repeats quieter, “Wayne has the best benefits and Mori needs that. I’ll just suck it up and try to avoid him.”

“Don’t be fucking stupid,” Aunt Betty says.

“Ma!”

“Oh be quiet Jimmy. I’ve never heard of a more stupider thing. He’s your CEO, Bear, and he knows you work there. He’s obviously going to want ‘to catch up’ or whatever. There is no avoiding him. Can you handle that?”

What can he say? Aunt Betty is right. He can’t handle talking to Tim. Even seeing Tim felt like touching a live wire. He can’t deal with another episode. Mori doesn’t need him to be fucked up, Mori needs him to be the stable adult he promised the courts he was. 

“You can’t, sweetheart,” she says softly, “you can’t handle it.”

There’s some shuffling on the other end of the phone. 

“Bear,” Ty says gently, “I love you, man. You’re my brother. Jimmy loves you, Mama loves you, Aunt Betty loves you. But you gotta start thinking about therapy.”

“I know, I know,” he sighs, “I shouldn’t’ve dragged you into this. I’m—”

Ty cuts him off with an exasperated huff, “It’s not about that Bear. I’ll keep talking to your hallucinations for as long as you need me too. Even when we’re seventy, I’ll do it for you. I don’t care about that. I care about you and I want you to be happy and healthy. I don’t want you to keep seeing Darla. I don’t want you to keep trying to scrub the blood off your hands. 

“And I know you’ve been avoiding therapy ‘cause you don’t got the money and ‘cause talking about your problems is scary but it’s not just you anymore. You got Mori now. That custody claim is going through. You can’t just avoid things ‘cause they’re hard now. You work at Wayne now; that paycheck is more than enough to set a few dollars aside each month to save up for therapy. Hell, mental health probably comes with your medical benefits. Please, Bear. If you can’t get help for you, then do it for us, for Mori. Please stop making us watch you hurt.”

Bernard exhales shakily.

“I never wanna find you the way we did after the cult, Bear. I never wanna see you in the hospital bed like that again. Please don’t do that to us, please,” Ty whispers.

Unconsciously, his hand comes up to rub at the scar left behind from the sacrifice. It stretches along the length of his sternum, jagged and rough. On good days, he can pretend that it’s a scar from a heart surgery. He doesn’t have that many good days.

Bernard presses the heel of his palms into his eyes before using his hands to scrub at his face. He’s always so tired these days.

“Okay,” he says simply, “okay.”

“Okay?” Ty asks hopefully.

“Okay, you’re right. It’s not just me anymore. Mori deserves the best and I’m gonna give it to him. And I love Tim, I think I’ll always love Tim but he clearly doesn’t give a shit about me. So I gotta make my peace with it or I’ll go crazy.”

Ty whoops, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” he chants.

“Bear, it’s still the middle of the workday,” Jimmy says, although he too, sounds happy. Auntie Bea and Betty are muttering about a feast, he thinks. “Don’t you have to get back to work?”

“Yeah, that’s if I’m not fired already,” he mutters.

“Hey!” Jimmy admonishes, “Optimism only, no pessimism.”

“Alright, alright. I gotta get back to work now. Thanks guys.”

“Of course, we’ll let you go now. Ma wants me to tell you that we’re having dinner at your place today.”

“Aunt Betty,” he whines, “I haven’t cleaned and you and Auntie Bea are just looking for a reason to spoil Mori.”

“Absolutely,” they say, unashamed, “he’s our only grandson. We have to spoil him.”

“Fine,” he sighs but he’s smiling. Fuck, he loves these people. God knows he wouldn’t have survived the past six years without them.

“Bye Bear,” they say before he hangs up, “Good luck on your first day!”

He cuts the phone and slides it back into his pocket. Turning on the tap, he splashes some cold water onto his face. Using his wet hands, he tries to rearrange his mussed up hair into something acceptable for an office job.

Time to face the music Darls, he tells her smiling face in the mirror. She gives him a thumbs up in return.

The walk back to his office feels like a death sentence. He’s fucked this up, he knows it. Freaking out over a small interaction with his CEO and then running away only to come back two hours later? It’s over, done for. Bernard takes comfort in the fact that at least the severance package will be nice.

Stepping into the office, immediately draws the eyes of his team members. Every step towards his team leader’s office feels nerve-wracking. Just before he enters, Esperanza, the team’s second in command, stops him.

“Whatever happened,” she says, “just explain it to him. Young-joon’s a reasonable man, he’s not gonna yell at you.”

Some of the tension leaves him and he nods. Knocking on the door, he enters. His team leader looks up and smiles.

“Ah, Bernard! Why don’t you take a seat for me?”

He crosses his wrists behind his back, “I’d rather stand, sir.”

His team leader looks confused, “‘Sir’? Just call me Young-joon like I told you.”

“Anyway, after you left, I took the liberty of going through your file to see if there was anything I missed. I hope that wasn’t overstepping my boundaries.”

“No s-, Young-joon. You’re fine.”

Young-joon sighs and pushes the file he was reading before Bernard came in forward. It’s his file. 

“I’m going to say some statements,” he says, “and I want you to confirm whether it’s true or not. If any of these questions make you uncomfortable, just tell me okay? I’ll drop it immediately.”

Bernard nods.

“You went to Louis E. Grieves Memorial High School.”

“Yes.”

“Based on the dates you put in your file, you were there for the shooting.”

“...Yes. Junior year.”

“You know our CEO.”

“Yes,” he breathes out.

“How?”

He used to fall asleep on my shoulder during lunch and I would listen to him breathe. He’s got moles all over his face. Darls once connected them with a sharpie. His step-mom was so hot, I thought I’d spontaneously combust every time she smiled. HIs dad didn’t really like me and flirting with his wife didn’t help my case. The Drake condo had a crocheted flower blanket on the sofa that his mom had made during her pregnancy. He liked to skateboard but couldn’t roller-blade to save his life. I have all this love and nowhere to put it.

“It’s a little private,” he says instead.

“I’m only asking because we work quite closely with him. We see him often and if that makes you uncomfortable, then I can have you transferred to another team.”

His shoulders sag, “We went to Grieves together for one year. Our mutual friend died. It’s a little hard to look at him.”

“Jesus Christ.” Young-joon says, “Okay well the offer is still on the table, Bernard. Do you want to be transferred?”

“No, I like your team. I’d like to stay,” he says, firmly.

“Are you sure?” Youn-joon asks, eyebrows raised.

“Yes.”

“Okay then,” and it’s like a switch had flipped. Gone is his serious team leader and in its place is the man he met this morning.

“If you plan on staying,” he says smiling, “then my primary recommendation is that you use the medical benefits the company gives you to find a therapist. If you need help, the infirmary here will walk you through it.” 

Oh thank god it comes included with his medical, Ty will be overjoyed to hear that. But first, he has to ask Young-joon why he’s doing all this. Bernard knows his experience with authority figures is a little skewed towards the shitty side of the spectrum but even so, people usually aren’t so kind in his experience.

“Why are you doing this? Why didn’t you fire me? Why are you helping me?”

Young-joon chuckles, “Do you want to be fired?”

“No! But still, why are you helping me?”

Young-joon sighs and stands up. Walking around his desk, he stops right in front of Bernard. Young-joon puts a hand on his shoulder.

“This city takes a lot out of its people, believe me I know. And you were so young, when Gotham took her piece of you. It wasn’t fair of you to go through that. Just like it wasn’t fair to me and my wife when we got kidnapped as children. These kinds of things don’t go away. I still get worked up over zip-ties. My wife still has nightmares. All you can do is learn to live with it.

“You seem like a good kid with a good head on your shoulders. I’d hate to see all that potential go to waste ‘cause you kept getting trapped in your mind. I had a lot of help to get to where and who I am today. Consider this, me paying it forward. One day, I hope you can pay it forward too.”

His eyes feel suspiciously wet. “Thank you,” he chokes out, “thank you.”

Young-joon laughs, “There’s no need for the waterworks, Bernard. Now, pack up your things and go home. You’re in no state to analyze data today but I expect you here at 9AM sharp tomorrow, alright?”

Bernard mock salutes, “Yes, sir.”

“Goodbye, Bernard.”

Right before he exits, he turns around and calls out his team leader’s name.

“Young-joon,” Young-joon looks up confused, “you can call me Bear, by the way.”

A wide grin stretches across his team leader’s face, “Okay then. Goodbye Bear, see you tomorrow.”

Walking out of the office, it feels like a burden has been lifted off his shoulders. Esperanza takes one look at him and snorts.

“You just got Young-joon-ed, huh?”

His jaw drops, “He does that often enough you guys have a name for it?”

The other team members laugh, “Welcome to Data Analysis Team 1, kiddo. We look forward to working with you from now on.”

Smiling, he gathers his things and leaves after a few goodbyes. Once outside the building, the smile drops. It’s an hour-and-a-half bus ride from Wayne Tower to his house. The bus stop sits right in front of the tower too. Some new initiative by the mayor to promote the city moving towards green energy. Hey look, even rich people take the bus! What a fucking joke.

The tower warps the sunlight around it and he stares up at the top floor. Is Tim watching? Can Tim see him from up there? Does he care or was it just the shock of seeing someone he once knew this morning? Has Tim ever thought about him, about them? Or were they just moments in his life? Perpendicular lines, intersecting once and then never again.

I miss you, he thinks staring at the top floor, I miss you more than anything but I’ll walk into oncoming traffic before I ever reach for you again.

The bus pulls up next to him and he snags a seat in the back. Dropping his head onto the seat in front of him, he stares out the window. Darls smiles back at him in the window reflection, perpetually sixteen. He’s twenty-two now.

Fuckin’ hell Darls, he thinks wearily, we’re really in it now.

Darls places her hand against the glass, he leans his shoulder onto it. If he closes his eyes, he can almost feel her warmth.

We’ll make it through, she says.

The bus rumbles forward and he lets the cracked streets of Gotham lull him to sleep. He’ll make it through.

A/N: chami! i hope you like it!!! i've never gifted a fic before, i don't really know how this works. and to everyone who read it, i hope you liked it too! please leave your thoughts in the reblogs or replies!!! i miss the days when td:r was coming out and we were all collectively freaking out. anyway when i said loosely based, i really did mean loosely. props to you guys if you can figure out the direct references to the drama. but this is a one-shot. i'm not gonna be writing anything else for this 'verse? au? (god i'm always so worried im using em dashes wrong)

if you have questions or you're confused by something i wrote, feel free to ask questions or send an ask or message. oh, and i know some people like know the exact wordcount. so, it's exactly 6,785 words long. nice number right?

also, please note that if you want to make art or a podfic or hell, even fanfiction of this, feel free to do so! i hope that's not too presumptuous or anything. idk i see fanfic writers make this disclaimer all the time, so i thought i'd do it to.

thank you for reading!

[iamnotshazam]

i saw the LotR films before ever reading the books and i love both. i turn now more to the books than the movies for enjoyment.

but i also feel like the three movies just. fucken. cracked it out of the park with some important things and i had NO idea how good i had it as a little nerd delving into the extended edition dvd extras. if i were a fan in the gritty-obsessed 90's hearing rumors of these movies, i would have expected at best stuff like: B-list acting that occasionally broke through with honest emotions. some skilled costuming and weaponry popping up in important scenes but mostly just knock-off viking opera aesthetic. homebrew DND imagery that made it painfully obvious by contrast which scenes they actually spent money on the set design and dressing.

and WETA and New Line and everyone on this!!! they did NOT accept lower standards cause it was fantasy! everyone else would have. This was genre filmmaking, this would have been perceived at the time as more like How the Grinch Stole Christmas than a Cecil B Demille-level epic movie. And the costuming department, composer, propsmaster and set designer all said "NO" and put their whole pussies behind it!

Jesus Christ the quality in those movies! Ian McKellan has undershirts like Gandalf the White might have! Bernard Hill has realistic quilted padding underlayers all made in the style a Rohirrim tailor and armorer would have made! Minas Tirith has a rat catcher because someone took a doodle and decided that would make sense in the lived reality of a massive city! Movie makers do not usually do this. It is NEVER about what isnt seen or necessary for the shot. You are judged professionally not by if you can cut corners in order to help production and still seem good, but by HOW MUCH.

I cannot blame anyone who worked on the Amazon series in the hands-on creative roles because the results are what they have been trained to do. Blame executives. Blame executives! Of course chainmail is going to be, i dunno, plastic or sewn into the edges of costumes if you dont have the money or time for real chain mail! And because it cannot be overstated how unusual the LotR trilogy filmmaking process must have been. It's like being given an average lower middle class family grocery budget and told to make a fancy Christmas dinner for 20 all by yourself with no help versus having a trained staff, a blank check, and Martha Stewart on retainer. That's not an exaggeration. That's the rhetorical gulf that someone (Valar BLESS them) in the bureaucracy had to wade across to convince execs to buy into the details. The Lord of the Rings movies are WEIRD.

And it shows. Bookfans bitch about the story changes, the balrog wings, the characterization differences. (Denethor was a reasonable person and even outsider Pippin could see he was very admirable to the people of Gondor, which made it sooooo much creepier when he suddenly snapped but i digress) but NEVER about the music. the filming locations. the set designs. the costumes. the props. the things that i really think count the most to help invest people in a different world!

No one ever complains about taking out the scene where Rohan is summoned to Gondor's aid with the Red Arrow, because yeah they could have made it work, they made the importance of other props like Andúril and, oh yeah, the One Ring very clear, but they had a better idea.

The beacons.

The beacons were not in the book.

Not in the same way, really, because while incredible to think about the narrative style was close third person, and you cannot follow beacons to rhapsodize about them when you're a tired hobbit getting saddle sore crossing national borders with a grumpy old wizard. Pippin sees the Beacons of Gondor at a distance when he's falling asleep and Gandalf tells him they're a mustering signal within Gondor. Which makes sense, really, they require some upkeep and would be awkward for two nations to negotiate how to handle - nevermind. That's it. That's all the beacons are in the text.

Someone adapting the script saw a moment that was ho-hum in the book but realized ! 💡⚡️That would look really great on camera! And it is now routinely listed as one of the most important cinematic moments of anything, ever.

There are so many things I still want to ask Peter Jackson, "Why???" but the original trilogy movies overall? Work. They work and they do more than work, they helped elevate an entire artform that I don't honestly know that much about and oh god i usually dont ramble about them like this im embarassed is this already acknowledged in tumblr tolkien circles? or are we just split into different little fandoms in order to keep the peace?

[suzukiblu]

Would you be willing to post a snippet of think pink? It's been a while since I've seen it on here and I would love to get some think pink crumbs

welllll since you asked so nice, friend . . .

Tim hasn't told him what to do this time, but Kon kinda already has a goal in mind here, so he just grins flirty and dirty at them both again and leans forward towards Tim, giving him a wink as he wags the unwrapped condom at him. 

"You still look good in green, right, man?" he asks teasingly. Tim visibly swallows, and Kon watches his pupils dilate. 

And he feels his cock twitch. 

Fuck, Kon loves his TTK. 

"I'll let you be the judge," Tim says. "Put it on me, pet." 

Kon is very, very happy to. 

He shifts forward a little farther and reaches out, feeling flushed and warm and weirdly . . . excited, almost, to have this. To get to touch Tim this intimately. 

Seriously, if he'd had any idea this was an option sooner . . . 

Well, it sure as shit would've happened a lot sooner. 

He wraps a hand around Tim's cock because he can't quite resist the urge to; can't quite hold back when he's got permission to touch him like this. Permission and encouragement to touch him like this, even. 

Kon feels way, way warmer at that thought. 

Tim inhales quietly. His cock feels weirdly good in Kon's hand; warm and hard and a perfect curve against his palm. Kon licks his lips without quite meaning to and wonders how it's going to feel in his mouth. 

And inside him. 

Fuck. 

He squeezes, once; gives Tim a stroke. Watches his face as he does it. 

Tim exhales, and takes a picture of him. 

Kon wonders what he looks like, if Tim wants a picture of it right now. 

"Fuck, man," Kon says, biting his lip around a grin; giving Tim another stroke or two to get him fully hard. "You always this pretty when you're getting jacked off? I've been missing out." 

"He gets prettier, actually, this is just stage one," Bernard informs him, and Kon resists the urge to squirm at the thought. "Stage one" implies multiple stages, after all. And Bernard mentioning those multiple stages implies Kon being around to get to see those multiple stages. "You should see him right after he's come, when he's all oversensitive and overwhelmed.” 

“Bernard,” Tim says, his voice mostly even but a little tight. 

"Can I see that, Tim?" Kon asks with absolutely every intention of doing so. Tim's face reddens, and his eyes go heated and dark. 

“If you're good for me,” he says, and Kon nearly bites his tongue. 

“Fuck you're hot,” he mutters, immediately taking that as his cue to hurry up and get the damn condom on him already. It's a little weird doing it from the opposite direction he's used to, but it's still something he's done a thousand times, and it's not like it's complicated: he just uses his TTK to make the gesture smooth and quick and do it without having to worry about getting any air trapped in the tip or any risk of tearing or anything. 

“Kon,” Tim says through his teeth. “Did you just use your powers to do that?” 

“Yeah?” Kon says, not sure why he's asking. They both just watched him do it, after all. 

“Do you usually put condoms on that way?” Bernard asks curiously. 

“Yeah,” Kon says. “Makes sure I won't accidentally rip it. And I mean, it's not any different from using my TTK on toys or–” 

“Ngh,” Tim says, putting a hand over his face. 

“Don't take this the wrong way, because just to be clear I love literally every word that has ever come out of your mouth,” Bernard says emphatically, gesturing at Kon as he speaks. “But please stop talking and start sucking off my boyfriend, like, yesterday.” 

Kon's gut twists with heat, and this time he definitely does bite his tongue. It's fine; his tongue is invulnerable. Like. Mostly. 

Fuck. 

“Tim,” he says, leaning in a little closer than he means to and giving his cock a few more exploratory strokes as he does, and the name comes out just a bit pleading. “I can, right? You'll let me?” 

Tim exhales roughly and drags his hand down his face, splaying his fingers to stare intently at him. Kon's gut twists up even tighter. He wants to kiss him again. He wants to knock him over and touch him everywhere and stay so much longer than a long weekend and just–

“Would you like that, pet?” Tim says, and Kon feels restless and overheated and just–hungry, for lack of a better word. 

“Yeah,” he says, swallowing at the thought. His mouth feels . . . it waters, almost. Feels . . . empty, almost. Eager. 

Greedy. 

He doesn't really know how else to put it. 

“Hm,” Tim says as he reaches out with a hand and threads his fingers into Kon's hair, and then curls them against his scalp and sort of . . . scritches, like he's petting a dog or a cat or something. 

Like he's petting him. 

Kon's every single higher thought process shorts out and he feels like an electric shock just went up his spine and through all his muscles and stays very, very still. 

He wants to say Tim's name. He wants to push into the contact. 

He wants Tim to tell him how to be good. 

“You know I want to give you things you like, pet,” Tim murmurs, and then he flattens his hand against the top of Kon's head and just . . . doesn't push or anything, but . . . 

Kon can lift literal tons without breaking a sweat and take a hit from a fucking train without even noticing the impact. He can withstand gravity that'd crush an unenhanced human and impacts that'd outright pulp them. 

The barely-there little weight of Tim's hand on his head is absolutely impossible to resist.

[gilbirda]

Can't help falling in love (with you) Chp.6

Jazz/Jason (Hardcover). DP x Batman crossover.

Based on this post

When a ghost does shenanigans, Jazz usually stays out of the trouble, since that's her brother's thing. This time? This time trouble found her in the form of a ghost that marries her to the Red Hood against her will.

[Read on AO3][Read on FF.net]

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Chapter 6: Till death do us part

Jazz’s warm hand on his chest felt… right. Her presence, her head on his shoulder, the way her legs were pressed against his.

Now, after the high of the fight together and having a clear head — thank you, brother-in-law that he never knew he needed — he could sort through how she affected him without the pressure of imminent death.

He never felt particularly inclined to have an actual relationship with anybody. He tried, and some of them lasted more than others, but there was always something missing.

For a while he thought maybe he was too broken, too removed from humanity to actually be able to feel real human emotions; that after his resurrection there was only space in his heart for violence and vengeance.

For fucks sake, he had been such a child. Looking back to those years he knew he had been acting up and giving up on something he didn’t actually understand.

He was capable of love — he loved Alfred, and Dick, and Timbit, and Cass and every addition to the family. He loved his Crime Alley and his people, and he would die defending them. He loved his goons and he didn’t set up the goonion just for laughs. If you got him drunk enough, he would admit he maybe loved Bruce too.

But what he felt for Jazz? He hadn’t felt it before. He wasn’t sure it was love, but what he could be positive about is that he felt comfortable around her.

That she picked up what he let down without him needing to say a word was a plus.

Jason chuckled, enjoying Tim’s distraught face as he looked back and forth between them, his mind reeling, looking for an explanation.

“You are not married.” Tim accused. “I’d know.”

“Oh?” He highly doubted it but let it slide. “But it’s the truth. Isn’t it, darling?”

Jazz gave him a look and slapped him on the chest. “We got magically married by a ghost today— I guess yesterday at this point.” She added when she noticed the clock on the other wall marking three in the morning.

“You too?” Conner said, reaching for some cookies and more tea. “B didn't give any explanation— wait, you said a ghost did this?”

Tim looked at Superboy, frowning. “Ghosts can’t magically marry people.” He said.

Jazz breathed in slowly. “This one can. It’s Elvis.” How she said it with a straight face, Jason didn’t know. “Ghosts have obsessions — a purpose, a meaning, a goal. They have to fulfill it or they fade. This particular pain in everyone’s ass is a Vegas Elvis impersonator obsessed with making ‘perfect matches’.” She made the air quotes.

“And you guys are a match?”

Jason watched the trio in front of them carefully. So they were also affected by this ghost? Good thing that blondie had learned about the whole vigilante thing recently, or all of this would be an even worse shitshow than it was already.

Although, given how he was still eyeing Jazz’s weapons on the table, the guy wasn’t that used to their second life yet.

“Why, surprised?” Jason answered Tim, cutting off whatever Jazz was about to say.

“That someone is actually able to put up with you, yeah.” He replied with the same glare.

Jazz cleared her throat, funny enough, reminding them of Alfred.

“As I was saying,“ her glare was very Alfred too, “this ghost’s magic affects people in a way normal magic cannot break. We are looking into it, don’t worry.”

“We?” Bernard finally spoke, averting his eyes from Jazz’s stuff.

“My brother and—”

The woman stood up, glaring at seemingly nothing. Fast as lighting, she picked up a knife from her discarded vest and threw it at the other side of the room.

“Ow!”

Everyone turned to look at where they heard the voice. In front of their eyes, Danny — well, more like Phantom — materialized out of thin air. With a knife right in the middle of his chest.

Danny frowned at his sister. “Rude!”

“You deserve it.” She picked up another one, taking aim.

Two things happened at the same time: the trio on the opposite couch ducked, just in case; and Jason stood up to grab his wife’s hand before she got to throw the blade.

“Easy there.”

She yanked her arm out of his grasp, glaring at him. At least she put the knife down.

“What the hell was that?” Danny approached the group, ghostly tail forming a pair of legs before he completely descended and touched ground. He wasn’t happy when he yanked the knife from his chest. “At least your aim has improved.”

“I was aiming for your head.” She grit through her teeth.

“Are you still mad?”

“What do you think!”

Jason moved away from the enraged woman, just in case a brawl went down between the siblings. Jazz looked seconds away from jumping at her brother’s throat, and he was not idiot enough to risk his life by getting in the way.

“I’m sorry, ok!” Danny lifted his arms, trying to appear less threatening. “I... I know it seems sudden, but I swear there was a lot going on!”

“That’s the thing, Danny. There’s always something going on!” Jazz had many talents. One was, apparently, going from murderous intent to worried sister in a matter of seconds. “That’s how they get you. That’s how he gets you — a talk about responsibility and helping others and how there’s no other way and—”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

His tone was final. His eyes were glowing. Danny — Phantom — wasn’t known for being serious, always striking the bats as some kind of trickster entity; but in that moment Jason could guess at some darkness inside the younger man that wasn’t there before.

He didn’t have all the information, of course, but apparently Jazz didn’t either. Jason watched her face go from confused to horrified to angry and finally, heartbroken.

“What did he do to you?”

Danny didn’t look at her eyes. Instead, he transformed and let his human body take over his ghost.

“Can we— Can we drop this? Please.”

You could hear a pin drop in the room. Dick wasn’t even breathing, hand frozen in the air with his teacup still in it.

Jazz’ body gave up, falling back to the sofa like a dead weight. Her expression was haunted. What did this even mean? What could have happened, that Jazz could guess just by Danny’s avoidance, that made the young man the Ghost King?

The situation wasn’t funny anymore.

Jason cleared his throat. “So…,” he tried, “the ghost?”

Danny looked relieved at his intervention. “Lost him somewhere across the world. I’m sure he’ll go back to the Ghost Zone eventually,” he shrugged, “but until then… back to square one.”

Jason looked back at Jazz, but she was still gone.

“What’s the plan now?”

Danny spared one last worried look at his sister before looking at him. “I think I could get some answers by asking around the Zone. And maybe beg Frostbite to have a go with the Infimap.” Nothing he said meant anything to Jason. Danny realized that and chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. “The yetis we mentioned? Frostbite is their leader. He also guards a relic that can basically take you anywhere and anywhen you want. It’s pretty neat.”

That sounded way too powerful to just drop casually in conversation, or call it “neat” with such nonchalance, but Jason would be the first to admit that you develop a certain kind of tolerance to craziness in their line of work.

“How long?” Tim finally spoke to their guest.

“What?”

“How long until you have answers?”

“Gee, Timmy. Don’t be so hard on the kid.” Dick intervened. “Are you in a rush to get divorced?”

By the way blondie blushed and hid his face in his hands, yes, he was in a rush. Jason half wondered what had happened between the three — he remembered Tim talking about his boyfriend, but he was positive he wasn’t talking about the super. How awkward. He almost jumped in to poke at the others but movement on his side distracted him.

“You okay?” He asked Jazz while the others discussed Tim’s particular conundrum.

“Not really, no.” She said after a moment of hesitation.

Unsure what to answer to that, he circled his arm back around her and squeezed her against his chest. Cass liked when he did that, but she always preferred quiet support to comforting words, and she enjoyed his hugs.

Jazz tensed for a moment before she tried to relax, so maybe she wasn’t so keen on hugs as his sister. She still patted his leg, acknowledging the gesture.

“Awwww.”

Both turned back to the conversation, finding the room fuller than before — Alfred was back with more tea and pastries, and Bruce walked in civies right behind him. The older man froze a little when he noticed the pair, one of his eyebrows twitching in the way Jason knew there would be questions later. He ignored them both.

“Danny.” Jazz cut whatever Dick was going to add. “What was that about a royal bond?”

The other got very quiet, eyes fixed on his sister’s. She got out of the hug and straightened her back, waiting for her answer.

“I don’t know.”

Jason could almost physically feel the young woman’s rage boil under her skin. “Explain.”

“I really don’t. I— They don’t actually teach about marriage in King school, Jazz.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah! Why do you keep asking?”

“Because I highly doubt you actually listened in class.”

Someone coughed a laugh. Danny’s face became red as he crossed his arms. “That was very mean. I don’t like your lack of faith in me.”

“But am I wrong?” She crossed her arms too, mirroring her sibling, and lifting one eyebrow. She knew she was right, but she still had to make him say it.

Jason rolled his eyes at the show, glancing at Dick watching the sibling spat while munching on more cookies.

“You are not wrong.” Danny finally admitted in a quiet voice. “But I’m telling the truth about not covering this!” He quickly added. “I did get some etiquette classes but—”

“Who? The classes, who taught you.” She added when Danny frowned, confused.

“Dora.”

“Then go ask her.”

Danny scoffed. “As if I have the time. Do it yourself.” He rolled his eyes. “I have to look for the Elvis ghost.”

“Whose fault is it that the ghost escaped, Danny?”

“Yours!” He bit back. “If you hadn’t freaked out so much about nothing—”

“Nothing?” Jazz stood up, breathing heavily. “Do you call finding out your baby brother is a King against his better judgment ‘nothing’!?”

“Hey, darling—”

“Don’t—!” Jazz slapped Jason’s hand away from where he tried to place it on her arm. She was tense, so tense he believed anything would make her jump. “Just. Not right now.”

“Jazz, listen—” Danny lifted his hands when her burning glare fell on him “Calm down, okay? We will figure this out. If not us, someone else must know. There are records, and you know how ghosts are sometimes about records.”

“Ghost Writer.”

Jason didn’t know who this ghost was, but Danny nodded, lowering his hands. “You can try his haunt and check that. I could have a look at the Keep too— or if you want you can do it yourself.”

“I can’t just uproot my life here in Gotham for this Danny.” Jazz started pacing, the gears turning in her head. “I have a test next week, and— and I was job hunting and— You understand that research takes time, yes?”

Danny rolled his eyes. “I know. But what else is there, Jazz? If you are so dead set on breaking this royal bond, if it cannot wait, then it is up to you what you are going to miss in the Living World.”

Bruce cleared his throat. “Are you in Gotham University?”

She blinked and looked at the Waynes as if she forgot they were there at all. Jason watched Bruce closely. “Yes. I’m currently getting my degree at Gotham U. Psychiatry.”

Tim and Dick glanced at each other.

“You can ask for accommodations and time off as long as you need,” Bruce tilted his head, “and if that doesn’t work definitely let me know. If they want to keep getting the Wayne Enterprises internships and donations they better let you take time off.”

Jazz made a face, which Jason couldn’t blame her for. So far she had taken very well being in the presence of Bruce Wayne but the reminder that this man alone held so much power over a city can be an uncomfortable stab. Even when such power it’s used for your benefit.

“I can’t… I’ve never… My grades—”

“Will not be affected. I can make sure of that. I don’t know — we can figure out something,” Bruce glanced at Jason, who nodded, “but you won’t have to worry about anything until you and Jason are back safe and sound.”

She blinked slowly. She turned towards Jason, her worried eyes glued to his face. He tried to channel his calm and collected demeanor when he dealt with victims, projecting security so she would stop freaking out like this. He nodded.

Jazz licked her lips and hummed. “Fine.” Nobody missed how Danny’s shoulders dropped at her declaration. “We’ll try Ghost Writer and see from there.”

***

After Jazz said yes, they immediately got to work. Introductions went faster than they should have — both parties knew of each other before this whole event, even Bernard knew who the trickster Phantom was after having listened to Tim ramble about him, or so the blond said.

Jason felt like everything was a blur as he went to the showers by Alfred’s orders, and got ready in civilian clothes to get on the road. He also checked his messages and informed his goons that he would be away on a mission and to hold the fort until he was back.

After spending so much time with Jazz, her absence felt… weird. Like walking with his balance completely off.

It wasn’t the painful sensation that brought him to her apartment in the first place, but more like an uncomfortable pull from inside his chest telling him to go after her. He could ignore it like he could ignore being hungry or thirsty, but he understood it was a part of him until they found answers to… whatever he got involved with.

Marriage.

Huh.

He wasn’t the marrying type. He had never dreamed of a wife and kids and picket fence; it just wasn’t something people like him could dream about — first as a kid from the streets and then as a crime fighter.

After he came back from the dead, he kinda… never considered he could be something else? There was so much to do in Gotham, so much to fix, and it never crossed his mind the possibility of hanging the cape and settling down with someone.

But apparently fate had something else in store for him.

He shook his head, lifting the bag with his discarded suit and adjusting the strap on his shoulder. There was no such thing as fate or destiny, he made his own destiny. He clawed his way out of his own grave, he could do whatever he wanted.

He arrived at the expansive garage and grabbed the Mercedes keys from the key box, walking towards the shiny black car that, while expensive and high tech, would be the best for blending in the small town Jazz was from.

Jason drove towards his apartment first and grabbed a spare suit, some weapons just in case, and the go bag he always had ready for a quick exit. Then it was back to Jazz’s apartment, where she had gone earlier to get ready for their trip.

She waited for him at the door of the building, wearing civilian clothes with her black biker jacket, arms crossed and a duffle bag at her feet. She wasn’t pleased.

“What’s this?” She asked the minute he rolled the window down.

“A car.”

“I can see that.” She didn’t make a move to get in. It started to rain, because of course. “What’s with the rich guy's car?”

“Turns out my daddy is the richest man in town,” he wiggled his eyebrows, “and let me play with his toys.”

She huffed, unbothered by the rain. This was so much fun. He never wanted to stop messing with her. Especially if she was going to act so antagonistic and pout in frustration.

“I thought that making the trip on a bike was a bad idea.” He added. “I love speeding down the road and forget about my problems like everybody else, but fifteen hours on a bike carrying my equipment and bags is not my idea of fun.”

The rain started falling harder, helping with his point.

He watched her eye the passenger seat and the back seat, almost hearing her thoughts considering if she should choose being in close proximity to him for a long car ride, or ignore him in the backseat.

The rain starting to become a downpour pushed her to make her decision.

“Alright, but you are driving the whole way.” She stomped her way to the passenger side and opened the door, threw her bag to the backseat without caring where it fell, and quickly sat and put on the seatbelt. “And I can choose the music.”

“I thought that was the driver’s right?”

“Rights revoked.” She pulled out her phone, opening the music app.

“By who?” He started driving down the street, glancing at how she connected the phone to the car’s bluetooth.

“By me.”

“That doesn’t sound fair.”

“Hm-mm,” she wasn’t listening to him, scrolling through her playlists. “Oh yeah.”

He wanted to ask what she was focusing so hard on, but the speakers started blasting Backstreet Boys’ 1997 hit “Everybody (Backstreet’s Back)”.

Jason glared at her when he stopped at a red light. “Really?”

Her grin was wide and totally unauthentic. “What, you don’t like one of the best songs of our generation?”

Did he have to bring up that he was dead for six months and catatonic for about two years, and then trained with an assassin cult in the mountains as a valid reason why he didn’t feel connected to the song?

He understood very quickly that Jazz wouldn’t care about anything he had to say. She was smiling, waiting to get a reaction from him.

As the Backstreet Boys continued filling the silence in the car, he started moving the car again as the light turned green.

Did she want some kind of undignified reaction at having to listen to boy bands? Fine. She wouldn’t get one. He wasn’t a fan of boy bands but he wasn’t going to be a little bitch over it.

If Jazz was trying to vent her anger on him and goad him into starting an argument to misplace her frustration, he wasn’t going to enable her. Because yeah, he was very aware she wasn’t mad at him per say, he was just an easy target.

And Red Hood was nobody’s punching bag.

He smiled as wide as her and started humming to the song, fingers tapping on the steering wheel at the rhythm of the song.

It was worth it by the way she finally shut up and leaned back on her seat, huffing and shaking her head, murmuring something about bratty younger brother behavior.

His smile grew. He had won round one.

----

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[ghoastixx]

I think it was a glitch, but I can see your posts!

I have a Supernatural request of Sam x Reader. The boys find a case, it looks like a clear cut and dry witch case until the suspected witch turns up dead. While investigating the previous suspect’s house, it was clear that this suspect was the witch that did the original killings.

After some continued investigation, they are welcomed into the Reader’s house. Everything about the person seems normal, even with a properly trained dog. All until Cas gets stuck on the carpet (with an Enochian sigil underneath).

Boys find out that Reader is a Witch and a hunter who stays in her state/town.

That was all I had thought of, I don’t know how Sam and Reader fall in love, maybe she saves him? Just not Dean or Cas, as I see the two as soulmates-

Happy writing! Hope you enjoy this random little idea! (I hope I did this right, because this is my first ever ask)

Sam Winchester x female witch!reader

synopsis above

notes: literally so cringe?? I stopped writing this halfway to eat and it threw my entire groove off I'm so sorry if this doesn't live up to expectations.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I hate witches. They're all sluts of the devil." Dean grumbled as he adjusted his tie, knocking on the door of a lady's house. They were going to interrogate this girl as she was the neighbor of the witch they thought they were hunting. The one that just turned up dead.

The case was running circles around them. They thought Eleanor Vandine was the witch that had been killing people in the town of Waterfall. The Winchester boys had proof of the matter.. The fact that they showed up to a dead witch and a hex bag was the curve ball. That meant there was another witch in town. That meant that they were back at square one.

A young lady opened the door, she smiled. "Hello..?"

Sam smiled, "Hi, we're with the federal office. We're going around interrogating Mrs.Vandine's neighbors-"

"ms," the lady interrupted,

Sam faltered a bit, "Oh.. yes.. Ms.Vandine." he shook his head,

"This is agent Osbourne, Ziggy, and I'm agent Floyd." The lady tilted her head.

"yeah, sure.. would you guys like to come in? I can put a pot of tea on the stove." That was a nice change.

Castiel, Sam, and Dean followed her inside. They stopped at the sight of a big Saint Bernard.

"Ah- don't worry, he's fully trained and friendly. You can pet him if you want. His name's Otis." She hummed as she went into the kitchen. The men started to walk across the living room.

"Dean.." There was a hushed word from Cas.

"Not now-"

"Dean." Dean turned around. Castiel was standing still in the middle of the living room.

"Cas, we don't have time to stop-"

"I'm stuck." Sam turned around,

"Stuck-"

The lady was leaning against the doorframe. A look of awe on her face. "You're not agents..I should've known with the band names.."

"you're our witch," Sam said, finally glancing around the room. It was painfully obvious, sigils carved in a inconspicuous way around the room, plants.. bones. A stereotype.

They were all sat around the room, the witch was nice enough to ruin her sigil to let Cas out of entrapment. She even made them tea.

"So, you're hunters?"

"So, you sold your soul to some demons?" Dean cut in, Sam elbowed him.

"yes, we're hunters." The witch smiled,

"I didn't sell my soul, I don't do dark magic. Not like Eleanore did. I'm more of a green witch."

"There's different kinds?" Castiel asked, at least he seemed interested. So you explained. You explained why you hurt Eleanore for killing your friends. You came 100% clean.

After long consideration, they left without hurting you. You didn't seem like the evil type, they couldn't see you doing this again. But the threat of them showing back up to kill you always loomed over your head.

Few months went by before they knocked on your door again. They were down for a hunt and figured they could use your help.

So you helped them and then all went out for drinks afterwards.

Dean was talking to the bartender, Cas not caring that he was staring at her ass. Sam sat next to you at the bar.

"What you did back there was really neat, Winchester?"

"Oh yeah?" He smiled a bit, looking down at his drink. "thanks. We've had our run ins with vampires. Know all the tricks.."

"yeah? Well..maybe you should tell me sometime." She hummed, writing her phone-number on a napkin, sliding it over to him. "call me," she grabbed her jacket and walked towards the door.

Dean walked back over to Sam, disappointed in his luck. "What's got you all dopey?" Sam glanced at her walking away.

"nothin-" He couldn't seem to wipe the goofy grin off his face.

[kurishiri]

16 . . . main story & letter

— this translation may not be 100% accurate or may contain creative liberties. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost or claim these as your own!

— cw: kidnapping, mentions of human trafficking, character death, murder, possessive behavior.

——When I came to, my nose was met with a pungent scent, and I could hear the light sound of water.

(...Hm? What, was I...)

My eyes felt heavy as I peeled them open, and before me was slightly dark; it looked like I ended up in a sewer.

Somehow, I felt a little fuzzy.

(If I remember, the auction ended, and...)

—— Flashback ——

Elbert: ...Kate—?

Kate: ...! Lord Elbert—

—— End flashback ——

(That’s right... I got separated from Lord Elbert, and someone who looked like one of the workers came, and...)

(...and, what happened after? I can’t remember... why, am I in a place like this?)

Kate: Agh, oww...

When I tried to move my body, pain rushed through my limbs——

(Eh... what... is this?)

(I’m tied up?)

The fuzziness that had been blanketing over my consciousness suddenly became clear in that moment, and I realized my arms and legs have been tied with a rough rope.

???: Tch... ya awake, huh?

Kate: ...Eh?

Someone appeared from the darkness: the man who had approached me as a worker at the auction venue.

(The way he’s speaking is completely different... and, he said that he was going to take me to the VIP room.)

Kate: Gh... who, are you...?

Man from the Company: Haha, I’m not really worth knowing the name of, I reckon. I’m just one of the lower ranking members of the Bernard Company.

The man’s mouth widened into a broad smile that made me feel uneasy, as he confessed his status almost in a hesitant manner.

An unsettling feeling bubbled up from the pit of my stomach.

(Don’t tell me, they found out our true goal in coming to the auction...?)

(...No, I can’t jump to conclusions yet.)

(If I open my mouth and say something careless, it may end up putting Lord Elbert in danger too.)

Taking note of the man’s complexion, I chose my words carefully.

(I have to make sure they don’t know that I’m aware that they are a criminal organization.)

(But, I also need to find out why they are holding me captive like this.)

Kate: ...So, does the Company kidnap people like this?

Man from the Company: You didn’t know?

Man from the Company: We make it a policy of ours to fulfill the ‘collectors’’ demands. No matter what they are, you see.

Man from the Company: The top of the Company also says it all the time. You know, “we are our ‘collectors’’ best confidants.”

Man from the Company: And “the desire to pursue beautiful things transcends principles and morals” and allat... well it doesn’t have anything to do with a grunt like me.

Kate: So, what you’re saying is that... there is someone who made a deal with the Company to kidnap me?

Man from the Company: Yep, we got a request like “I’ll pay a high reward if we can sell you off.”

Man from the Company: ——It was a request from the head butler of the Count Greetia house.

(Wh......)

Man from the Company: He wants to shock some sense into his young master, whose fallen in love with a commoner, by tearing you two apart. Quite like a typical tragic love story, you know?

(Jeffrey... did this...?)

—— Flashback ——

Art dealer: And I would like to extend an invitation to you to attend that auction. How about it? Is it to your fancy?

Elbert: ......Alright, I accept.

Art dealer: Well then, please sign here for the payment.

—— End flashback ——

At that time, Jeffrey had left the room with the art dealer.

I thought they had just been talking about the transaction, but apparently that was not all.

(So... when I saw those two, this is what they had been talking about...?)

That meant this situation I was in right now had nothing to do with them finding out about Crown’s mission, but rather Jeffrey’s personal grudge against me.

(...I’ve thought this before, but now I’m sure you should dismiss him, Lord Elbert!)

I knew it was too late to complain now, but frustration seemed to set aflame from within my body.

Man from the Company: The one who accepted these request upfront was someone who couldn’t bother getting their hands dirty from something like this,

Man from the Company: so, they came to me. As long as they receive some royalties for referring me to the job, I get the rest of the reward.

Man from the Company: And so I’ll receive the reward for ‘selling you’ itself from not only that butler head,

Man from the Company: but also from whoever buys you. Now that’s what I call the best deal there is, yeah?

(It seems like this person’s only doing all this for the money.)

(So, if I can offer something of higher value than what he’ll get from this deal, then maybe he would be willing to let me go...)

Kate: ...As I understand, Lord Elbert is a valued client of the Company, right?

K: If you do anything to said valued client’s partner... if the deal ends up annulled, what would you do then?

K: And, does Mister Bernard even know about this in the first place?

Man from the Company: Can’t say he does. If he knew I was out here making easy money off of you, I’d be kicked out from the Company.

Man from the Company: I gotta say, though, I was thrown off a bit when you came along so easily.

Man from the Company: ...Well, that’s enough chatting. I’ll be having you become a little doll for a bit with this.

The man took out a syringe.

(Gh, now matter how you think about it, this is too much...)

Man from the Company: It would make my job harder if a ‘product’ resisted, you see.

The hairs stood on end when I saw those dark eyes, devoid of any warmth or emotion.

(I have to get away—)

I felt I was going to break down from fear, and I tried to back away by doing my best to move my legs, but I couldn’t with the ropes tightly binding me.

Kate: Is there anyone here!!

Man from the Company: Ah ha ha! You do know this is a sewer located in the most inner part of the backyard? Besides...

Man from the Company: Everyone in the venue is only interested in pretty things. There’s no way anyone from there would come to a dirty place like thi—

Elbert: —What, do you think you are doing to her?

Man from the Company: ...!?

That voice was monotonous enough to make one freeze where they were at.

It was as though a hand had reached out to grab my wrists from amid the deepest depths of the water.

I focused my sight toward the direction of the voice that seemed to instill a sense of instinctual fear in those who heard it.

(Lord... Elbert...?)

The one who appeared from the other side of the dim darkness, was a person whose being seemed to clash with a place like this — the most beautiful person in the world.

Elbert: ...

His expression unreadable, it looked like he was a real bisque doll himself, moving toward us.

Kate: Ah... hh...

(B-but why...)

(I can’t... say... ‘please help me’...)

Man from the Company: Gh... w-well, if it isn’t Count Greetia! Isn’t it about time you sign the contract? What of that?

Elbert: ......

Man from the Company: You see, actually I had just rescued Miss Kate from a crazed man who tried to kidnap... her—

Lord Elbert did not utter a single word as he approached the man, and—

Man from the Company: Guh...! ——?

In a fluid movement, Lord Elbert unsheathed his blade from its scabbard and pierced it through the man’s body.

Elbert: ......I’ll be, taking her with me now.

Man from the Company: Guh... ga...ah...

The blade that protruded from the man’s back was soaked in red.

Kate: Ah...

I couldn’t let out any shout or scream — I could only stare at the scene before me.

The fresh blood had stained Lord Elbert’s white clothes red.

(Lord Elbert... went straight for it...)

Blood gurgled from the man’s mouth as his body unsteadily lurched.

Elbert: ......

Lord Elbert lightly pushed against the man’s shoulders,

and the man fell into the muddy water with a plop, his corpse being swallowed up by its waves——until it disappeared.

(He didn’t waste a beat — the man couldn’t finish his excuse... and he couldn’t even beg for his life.)

(The Lord Elbert before me...)

It was the first time I had seen him kill someone before my eyes.

I couldn’t help but feel fear and confusion, and on instinct my breath quickened.

(Ah... first, I have to thank him...)

(Or... otherwise...)

Kate: T-thank you... for, for saving... me.

I had to squeeze my voice out, and it trembled so much it felt unsightly.

Elbert: ......

(Lord Elbert...?)

(Why, won’t you say anything?)

Lord Elbert remained silent as he approached me, and he untied the rope from my hands and legs.

Elbert: ...There are marks from the rope.

Kate: That’s fine, it doesn’t hurt as much as it looks—

Elbert: And not only on your wrists... but also on your legs.

Lord Elbert’s fingertips lightly traced over the places where they stung.

(I, wonder why...)

(...even though Lord Elbert saved me...)

(I should be relieved, and yet... I can’t stop shaking.)

I should feel safe now that the person I love had saved me,

but my fingertips continued to tremble with small, stiff movements without stopping.

(Why, am I... still this scared...?)

Lord Elbert’s gazed was fixated on the marks, his eyes seeming deeply dark and inhumanly cold——

I wondered if it seemed that way to me because he had killed someone before my eyes.

(I... I need to say something.)

(That’s right, the mission... we were in the middle of a mission, and—)

Kate: Uhm, so... about the mission... how did... the blue diamond purchase—?

Elbert: ......I can’t forgive them.

Kate: Eh...?

The words that came out of his lips in a brief murmur had nothing to do with my question.

It was as though he couldn’t hear me at all.

Kate: ...L-Lord... Elbert...?

Elbert: ......

Lord Elbert turned to face me, looking at me at last.

(...)

I was usually reflected in those dark shadows that clouded his eyes, but now we couldn’t see eye to eye.

Elbert: They tried to take you away before my eyes...

E: ...and not only that, they tried to hurt you... and I can never forgive them for that.

Kate: Lord Elbert—

Suddenly, he pulled me in with both of his arms and locked me in an embrace.

Elbert: ...So, if I don’t make you mine soon,

E: someone will make you theirs before me.

(Ah...)

It was the third time I had seen those beautiful eyes laced with craze, and it terrified me.

—— Flashback ——

Elbert: ...I’m so glad this painting wasn’t scratched.

E: Perhaps  it could be what I’ve been looking for.

—— End flashback ——

—— Flashback ——

Elbert: Could it be... that you were the one?

E: The thing I have always been searching for.

—— End flashback ——

Kate: Lord, Elbert—

I had a feeling I was shaking at my feet.

Those eyes resembled the deep depths of the water, vividly reflecting that dark yet heavy obsession.

And, as if I were trapped within those depths,

a sense of hopelessness and despair that I couldn’t go anywhere crawled up from under me.

——I finally understood why I still felt so scared.

Why, despite the fact the person I loved had come to save me, my body couldn’t stop trembling.

Elbert: ...Let’s go back, Kate.

E: I’m, glad you’re not hurt.

It was because the Lord Elbert here, who saved me,

looked at me like an ‘object’ that could be bought, exactly like that other man had.

We couldn’t return to the auction venue with the bloody state Lord Elbert was in,

so, while keeping me in his arms, we discreetly exited through the side and returned to the castle.

The entire way through, we didn’t exchange a single word.

Lord Elbert kept his lips sealed, and I couldn’t bring myself to speak to him.

We went to the dining room during dinner in search of Victor to make a report.

And there, we found Victor, Alfons, and Roger waiting for us.

Even after we had returned to the castle, Lord Elbert’s hand were wrapped around my shoulders.

Victor: ...I see, I understand what happened now.

Upon hearing what happened from Lord Elbert, Victor smiled sympathetically.

Victor: First, I want to thank you for taking on such a dangerous mission. ...And, what happened was truly unfortunate, Kate.

Kate: I really apologize for my blunder. I... should have exercised more caution.

Victor: There’s nothing you need to apologize over. Regardless of the circumstances...

V: You had only fallen victim to it, and blaming the victim is wrong. That’s what I think, at least.

Kate: But, even so... in the end, because I had let my guard down, the mission wasn’t a success.

Elbert: ...No, it wasn’t because of you.

E: I ended up... letting go of you for a moment, and so this happened.

E: The fault... lies with me.

Kate: That’s not true...!

I tried to deny his statement then and there, but——

Elbert: ......

Kate: ...

The moment I looked up and met Lord Elbert’s gaze, an unsettling feeling made my heart jump,

and, without thinking, I turned away from him.

Ever since I saw that smile in the irrigation channel... I couldn’t look Lord Elbert in the eye.

Alfons: Now, now, there is little use in ruminating about what had already happened.

Suddenly, a nonchalant voice broke through the serious air, purging it in one swoop.

Alfons: It was merely a mission. It’s not as though Elbie or Kate had died along the way.

A: If you had, this pleasant dinner would have turned into something like a gathering for a funeral, after all?

(...Alfons...)

Seeing Alfons play with his fork without a care for manners, the heavy air seemed to subside.

Kate: ...Thank you, Alfons.

Alfons: My, I was going to laugh at you for being so folly as to take this so seriously... but to see you thank me like this is quite commendable.

Kate: Yeah... allegedly, the top didn’t know about any of this. Only the organization’s lower ranked member was aiming for me.

K: So...

K: Perhaps, we should go back to the venue and apologize for disappearing on them before the transaction was completed, and have them prepare another contract...

K: Maybe... I think that would create another chance for us to get close to Mister Gabriel Bernard.

Alfons: You’re already proposing a plan to go back? I take back my prior statement; you really are serious...

Elbert: ...Even if we were to go through, with that proposition,

E: I won’t take Kate outside anymore.

(...!)

I was still in Lord Elbert’s arms when I felt caught in his gaze.

(Lord Elbert...)

I should feel happy that I’m being treasured like this by the person I love,

but the smile I saw back at the irrigation channel pierced my heart as though with a needle, and a stinging pain rushed through my body.

Victor: Anyway, I say we look and see how the Company takes this and responds.

V: Elbert, Kate, feel free to eat lots of tasty foods here and take your time to rest your bodies and minds.

Roger: If that’s the case, guess I’ll do an examination on the lil lady?

Kate: Huh? An examination...?

Elbert: ......

Roger: From what I heard, it seems you were taken captive by a man you didn’t know. You didn’t feel faint or dizzy during that time?

R: That guy might’ve injected some suspicious drug in you while you were unconscious.

Kate: !? N-now that you mention it...

Roger: Well, as far as I’m concerned, lil lady, I’m also fine with just keeping an eye out until you start acting strangely or collapse on the spot...

Kate: P-please, do an examination. I, would like that.

When I asked him in a panic, the corner of Roger’s lips quirked up egotistically.

Roger: Then, let’s go.

Kate: Okay— ...?

When I tried to follow Roger out of the room, I felt the hands around my shoulders tighten around me.

Kate: ...Lord Elbert...

Without thinking, I turned back to look at him, and was once again met with those dark eyes.

Elbert: ...I’ll, come with.

Kate: ...

My heart beat so hard, it had become painful.

(...No, I can’t.)

(Right now, I need to distance myself from Lord Elbert.)

(Otherwise... if I look into those eyes...)

(I, will surely——)

Kate: I...

K: ...I will be fine, on my own.

Elbert: ......

I forcibly peeled my gaze away from him as I told him this.

Until just a little bit ago, I could dream an optimistic dream, saying things like ‘if only this was a simple jealousy...’

But now... I could no longer dream.

(To Lord Elbert, I might as well be the same as that painting of the ocean, or that cat.)

(It... had always been like this.)

(But, that truth seemed to thrust itself at me... and it hurt my heart much more deeply now.)

When I tried to grab the hands on my shoulders and push them away by force—

Elbert: ...!

As if he had been stabbed by a sharp blade, Lord Elbert’s face contorted in pain for a moment.

(——The reason my heart hurts so much now,)

(and the reason why you seem to make such a sad face every time I push you away...)

(...maybe, just maybe, is because you do ‘like’ me, in that pure, simple way, but you are hiding it...)

(...is what I end up thinking, hoping.)

When that gaze of his from the irrigation channel pierced me, I felt that faint hope make my heart beat and my blood flow.

And right now, I couldn’t bear this pain.

Kate: ...Good night, Lord Elbert.

Elbert: ......Kate.

I never received a ‘good night’ back.

Lord Elbert’s palms weakly withdrew from my shoulders, leaving them wandering in the air.

And I... killed the impulse rushing through me to hold his hand evermore, before leaving the dining room.

This pain may be a sin.

If I ever end up becoming his,

maybe, something like true love could break this wicked curse?

——Even though I knew it wasn’t that simple,

it was a sweet dream I ended up embracing — one meant for me.

A memo written after you left for treatment

I shouldn’t have let my eyes off of you at the auction venue. And, it was my mistake to hesitate because I didn’t want to step in peoples’ shadows.

I should have chased after you, and kept you in my arms, and it’s because I didn’t do so——that you ended up going through what you did.

I can’t help but think back on how you were tied up, on how that man held that syringe, and how he left marks on your wrists.

When I remember it, my heart becomes a mess.

You are probably receiving treatment from Roger right now.

And when I think of that, I... feel as though I might end up facing a violent urge, even if it’s toward Roger.

—Elbert Greetia

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🏷️: @magicalkoo @complexivelovely @just-a-writerr (leave a comment, send an ask, or dm me saying you want to be added to the tag list if you want to be tagged!)

[dcmeme]

Batfam Covid series part 1

I figured out how to turn off autocorrect so it types ‘Selina’ and not ‘Selena’ woohoo! Progress! Multiple parts, all longer than usual.

Damian: Why is it everyone has to be within the same household?

Dick: Because it’s quarantine. Meaning you isolate with people you’ve been in contact with already that could have the disease.

Jason: I mean, I’ve gotta agree, this seems a bit blown out of proportion. The symptoms aren’t reading.

Tim: I think it’s more of the spread that’s of concern and those with preexisting health conditions being affected more than anything else-

Bruce: *throws tiny robots on the ground that latches to everyone’s ankles* There.

Jason: HEY! You said I wouldn’t be under house arrest again if I didn’t blow shit up (on purpose) or cause a full body cast for at least 3 weeks!

Bruce: This isn’t house arrest, this is insurance that none of you try to leave and put others at risk of infection.

Damian: That is absurd!

Dick: I gotta say, this feels a little extreme, Bruce.

Tim: Yeah, no. *takes it off*

Jason: How the f*ck?!

Tim: I’m gonna go stay at my boyfriend’s.

Bruce: The last thing you are doing is leaving this house, Tim. Like you said- it’s a major concern for those of preexisting health conditions.

Selina: I helped Alfred switch your and Damian’s old bedrooms so you are a bit more isolated-

Damian: Excuse me?! I don’t want to sleep near Helena’s room. She continues to make sounds.

Bruce: You don’t have a choice. In fact, none of you do. Not until everyone is tested- including anyone you’ve been around the last 12 days.

Dick: So no Kori?

Bruce: Has she been tested?

Dick: I mean she’s been on another planet with Mari for, like, 6 months soooo

Bruce: they’re fine to stay.

Damian: Can John come over?

Bruce: I don’t even let him over when there isn’t a pandemic.

Jason: Can’t I just be under house arrest at a safe house? I don’t care to self isolate- just let me grab a few books and I’m good for dayyys.

Bruce: Absolutely not.

Tim: Ok than let Bernard come over?

Bruce: No.

Tim: But what if he tests.

Bruce: I don’t like that boy being in my house.

Tim: Oh come on. He only broke,like, two or three things in the cave.

Jason: Didn’t that somehow include the giant penny?

Damian: and the window to the Batmobile.

Dick: *sighs* The chair to the batcomputer has squeaked ever since he left that night.

Bruce: My cape.

Alfred: He was rather harsh on the grappling hooks as well, Master Drake-

Tim: I said I loved a man, not a smart one-

Bruce: No Bernard.

Tim: oh come on! Dick gets to bring Kori!

Dick: and my kid.

Tim: Oh come on you barely see her but three times a year.

Dick: I’ve known her seven months and she’s been gone six for some Tamaranian ritual or something humans can’t be at!

Selina: Will all of you stop shouting. If my baby wakes up, I will find a way to make all of you pay.

Bruce: The only person with a second option on where they’re staying is Damian-

Jason: Bull shit!-

Bruce: Talia has asked he go back to the league’s temple since COVID hasn’t likely breeched them yet.

Damian: Can I bring my children?

Bruce: Only the dog.

Damian: than no.

Bruce: you’ll have to take that up with your mother.

Damian: I’ll make this much clear- I would sacrifice each of you individually for the sake of my children-

Tim: you mean your pets?

Damian: they are family in this house, Drake. I can’t say the same for you.

Tim: You really don’t expect me to live next to this brat for literal months, right? He’ll kill me by the end of the week! I’m much safer at my place.

Bruce: As of right now this is all of our place. Stop bickering and get used to the idea of being under the same roof for a while.

Cassandra: It could be fun! We can even have a family dinner after we’re all tested.

Damian: oh joy. Sharing food with the nuisance Drake and the pig that is Todd. Fantastic.

Jason: Don’t you have a mommy to call?

Damian: Don’t you have a casket to sleep in!

Jason: Oh f*ck you!

Bruce: now boys-

Tim: Is this seriously how you expect me to live?!

Cassandra: we can make breakfast for dinner and by then maybe the weather will be nice enough to open windows and set up candles-

Jason: you think you have it bad?! I’m surrounded by the same people who-

Damian: I better not have to sit at that dinner by Drake, Cain, or so help me god-

Bruce: enough!

Tim: For my own safety please god do not do that cass-

Jason: I don’t see why you’re complaining when I’m the one who has to-

Bruce: *louder* enough

Tim: I have a right to feel however I want!

Damian: If that is the case, I feel you should all be disowned-

Dick: why are we all arguing again?!

Damian/Tim/Jason/Bruce: SHUT UP, DICK/GRAYSON

Dick:… what did I do? 🥺

Helena: *screaming from upstairs*

Selina:…

Bruce:…

Everyone:…

Bruce:…we’ll take this outside.

Selina: That would be great, thank you.

[enniewritesathing]

memory management (💉1)

⏮️Previous || (📚Previous Stories) || Beginning ▶️

(While Jordan mutters about losing Rock, Paper, Scissors and thus, has to be in the lab while he can sit and observe the whole trial, Mark looks down at John.)

(He's had an uneasy feeling all of this week. Truth be told, he's had it ever since John stared at him while he was completely unconscious. Mark felt what he was going to do to him. The time that Jordan was attacked really didn't help things at all and that was some time ago.

(Still. There was something else about John that he couldn't quite put his finger on...)

(The Werewolf awakens in darkness.)

(He's been here before. He always has. Nothing surrounds him. Or was it the other away around?)

(With a grunt, he sits up with ease. There are no chains binding him, no ropes tightening and squeezing like a snake coiling around its prey.)

(Just like that. Honestly, he should be glad.)

(But he isn't. He can't remember the last time he's been free like this. No. Something's wrong. This doesn't feel right.)

(The Werewolf can hear soft, muffled voices. Metal being shifted around. The hiss of gas... but this sounds different. It doesn't sound closed off or the fact that it feels warmer. He's somewhere else.)

Charles: "Jordan, is he ready yet?"

Jordan: "It'll be between ten and fifteen minutes."

Charles: "I see."

"Alright. We'll take this time to go over everything."

(That voice... it's him!)

(Charles clears his throat.)

"Tonight we are doing the reversal trial. The purpose of this is two fold. First, we are going to force John to transform by accelerating his heart to the PT. Second, once it's been established that he is in his werewolf phase, we'll force the werewolf into revert back into the human state."

Daniel: "May I ask how do we do that? We don't know what the other threshold is."

Jordan: (low hiss) "Dan!"

Bernard: (slight exasperation) "Dan, why are asking that?"

Charles: "No; this is a good time to ask questions. We will find this threshold by de-acceleration; this means that we'll have to induce cardiac arrest. The arrest is considered 'resetting' and it will be brief. We'll have to capture and sustain a lower heart rate below his PT."

(He pauses, making a pointed look at Daniel.) "The primary method will be via intracardiac injection so we don't have to worry about absorption."

"As for time, we'll aim for five minutes. If after five minutes Johnathan shows no signs of reverting back, we will try again; as many cycles as it takes."

"Of course, this brings the terrible risk of death... but that will only occur when and if we exhaust all options."

(He looks down at John, studying him. Even in this state, he's more princely than ever.) "I have faith in Johnathan. He has yearned this for years. He will emerge victorious. Any questions?"

(How the hell am I going to get out of this?)

// Next ⏭️

[lirarey]

I miss Roxanne and Megamind's relationship.

They're one of the best couples in DreamWorks, really. But it's more interesting to think that they probably had a mutual attraction early on in the movie. Just imagine a slightly different conversation between them, where Megamind isn't pretending to be Bernard. Sorry if this comes off a bit dark.

Megamind can't stand the constant pangs of conscience because of what happened to Metro Man and goes out to the park, where, of course, no one has walked for a long time. He walks slowly, not looking where he's going, and collides with Roxanne. The girl instinctively steps back from him, fear flashing across her face. Megamind winces: he was used to exchanging some kind of jokes with her, he seemed to enjoy making her smile, but he had never seen her so amazed and scared.

"What, you want to destroy me too?" she asks bitterly. "Go ahead. I don't have the strength to fight."

"No!" Megamind almost screams and is frightened by his own outburst of emotions. "This shouldn't have happened. Never. Roxanne, you know me, I've never put you in any danger."

"Metro Man thought the same," Roxanne mutters, clutching the script of the upcoming news broadcast to her chest. "We're all so used to the fact that your fights never end in anything serious. Good luck in your triumph of victory."

"I'm really sorry. I wish I could fix it, but I just don't know how."

"It might have been better if you had never been here."

The words feel like a slap in the face. Megamind lets out a ragged breath, trying to hide the pain.

"Good idea. This city definitely doesn't need aliens with uncontrollable abilities."

Roxanne suddenly claps her hand over her mouth, realizing what she had suggested.

"No, no, no, you're not going to..."

"Yes. Maybe at least my..." He doesn't finish the sentence, but it's clear what word he meant, "will make you and everyone else happy."

Megamind slowly starts to walk away, tears welling up in his throat. He is definitely at his lowest point in his life. No one has ever told him that before. Even prison wouldn’t be the worst punishment for him.

There is only one exit here. One and quite exciting.

"I was happy during our meetings!" the girl suddenly says, forcing him to stop. "I always knew that everything would end well, that I would come home and write a script for the next news broadcast. But now... I don’t know what to do. No one knows. But not this."

"People used to avoid me just because I was different. They were right. I couldn't become good. Useful to someone. My only way out is evil."

Roxanne ponders the word "useful". She may not be as smart as he is, but she remembers how easily he could cheer her up with his jokes. That quality could come in handy in...

"You could become a journalist. To instill faith in all that is good in people."

"I can't. I killed him." Megamind turns around, but his face isn't as sad anymore.

"But maybe if no one knew it was you..." Roxanne begins to think, as Megamind smiles slightly.

“I can do it,” the man nods to himself with satisfaction. “But why do you need it?”

"I'm tired of being afraid and thinking about the worst future. Let's face it, I never thought of you as a real villain," she admits awkwardly.

Surprisingly, Megamind doesn't take offense at her words.

"You really want to improve my reputation through the media?" Megamind asks.

"For some reason, I think I won’t regret it."

Megamind blinks rapidly, not believing his ears: she believed in him.

They would then begin a joint investigation, during which they would become even closer. Metro Man's hideout would still be found, and he could send a message to the journalists that he was fine, but wanted a quiet life. And then the almost canonical ending.

[prismatica-the-strange]

Snowfall Sweethearts | Sugar and Dye

Warnings: 18+, swearing

After a few years of being in wrapping, Charity finally shows her hand at her true skill as an elf

Dividers by @saradika

There's a commotion in the kitchen, nearly a third of the elves are running around trying to right it.

Not Charity though. No, she's still in wrapping, doing her job, headphones on, blocking out the chaos.

In fact, she doesn't even notice anything is amiss until Bernard inches into her line of sight.

"Hey baby," She smiles, pushing her headphones around her neck. Her shoulders slump when he smiles sheepishly, "What's wrong? And... why do you smell like burnt sugar?"

"There was a mishap in confection," He admits, "I need your help."

"Okay...?" Her eyes go wide when he grabs her wrist and starts hurrying them out of the workshop, a trail of wrapping paper and ribbon behind them.

The whole kitchen reeks of burnt sugar and the doorframe to confections is marred from black smoke.

"I got her, sir," Bernard calls out, pushing them through the crowd of elves.

"Good cause- Charity?" Santa's eyes narrow at him, "Look, I get you're together, but Charity isn't the answer to every problem."

"When the hell did we automate confections?" She asks, scowling at the large machine in the middle of the room with contempt. When no one answers she looks over to Bernard who looks almost guilty, "Twitch?"

"Uh, about... a century ago," He mutters, "Give or take a decade..."

"A century?"

"It's quicker!"

"You can't automate candy making at the North Pole!" She argues, "Are you fucking serious?"

"Language!" Santa scolds, "Charity, you obviously have some insight into this. The machine's busted for the rest of the season, and now we're further behind than usual."

Bernard shrinks under her glare, he knew she'd be pissed if she found out. Her nose scrunches, causing her glasses to rise slightly on the reddened skin.

She suddenly turns and storms toward the storage room, muttering to herself about how she can't believe they did this.

"Do I have to haul all this out myself?!" She yells from the closet and a few elves scurry over to help her.

Even Bernard helps Santa and the others get the old equipment out, most of the elves looking on in confusion, most of them being only recently put on the candy line sometime in the past fifty years.

"We don't know how to use this stuff."

Charity rolls her eyes and pulls off her sweater, then her second, leaving her in a cropped long sleeve as she hangs them outside the door.

"A fucking travesty," She grumbles, tightening her ponytail and pushing up her sleeves.

He tries not to stare too hard at the way her tattoo peaks out from the waistline of her jeans.

The whole group watches in awe as she works, letting muscle memory take over.

"Ribbon candy?" One of the elves scoffs when she starts shaping her wrapped and pulled sweet. They continue even when Bernard motions for them to stop, "No kid wants ribbon candy, it's the twenty-first century!"

The elves around them step back at the pointed glare she throws at them.

"Ribbon candy is a classic," She points out, "And kids don't care as long as they get colorful sugar."

She gets the first batch out in record time with the help of a few elves that timidly stepped up.

Bernard lingers behind as the rest of crowd disperses, watching Charity in her element, adoration emanating off of him.

"Bernard," Santa snaps his fingers near him to get his attention.

"W-! Y-yes sir?" He reluctantly takes his eyes off her.

"Why was Charity working in wrapping when this is obviously what she's more suited to?" He asks, "She didn't even look at a recipe."

He shrugs, "She used to be head of confections before she got sent to the mortal realm. When she came back she wanted something a little slower paced and I..."

Santa looks at him queerly when he pauses and he clears his throat before continuing, "I may have been scared to tell her the candy was machine-made now."

"So that's why she's so opinionated about it."

"She used to pull when she was mad. It kind of comes naturally and she's... not happy right now. I'm gonna get an earful later," He glances back over at her. She's teaching the others how to properly pull the candy on the hook as they struggle, "But we shouldn't have to worry about being behind again."

"She's that good?"

They both look over when another elf shouts and Bernard cringes.

"We should be prepared for an influx of burns."

"You should have told me."

"You should have been more careful," He tuts, helping her bandage various cuts and burns from the day as she sits on his thigh.

"I just need to rebuild my calluses," She pouts, "And you're dodging."

He sighs, "You said you wanted to do something less stressful and I knew you would flip when you found out. I just..."

He laces his fingers with hers, not willing to look her in the eye, "I wanted you to be comfortable here and go at your own pace. I knew it would upset you so I just didn't tell you..."

She pulls one of her hands away to grip his chin, raising it just enough for her to softly kiss him.

He trails after her when she pulls away, looking up at her with stars in his eyes, "What was that for?"

She hums and bumps her nose with his, eyes shut, "For being sweet... In your own, stubborn way."

He leans in brushing their lips together again.

"You're not mad?" He breathes.

"Oh I'm furious," She teases, "But not at you."

He reaches up to hold the back of her neck, kissing her harder.

She laughs into the kiss, her stomach twists, and she moves her hands to hold his cheeks.

"That still gives me butterflies," She whispers.

"Me too," He admits, voice no louder than hers.

"And I think I need to start an official transfer to confections."

It's his turn to laugh as he nods.

"I think we can arrange that," He pets her hair, eyes bright and loving, "You'll whip them into shape in no time."

"I'll definitely have my work cut out for me," She groans.

[zorilleerrant]

"Is it okay?" Tim asks, "if I'm Robin?" He won't look at Bernard. He won't look anywhere but the wall, blank off white with nothing on it, gaze steady like he's trying to find every flaw in the paint.

"What does that even mean?" Bernard asks, crossing his arms. Uncrossing them. He's not sure how to sit, anymore, and maybe it's better that Tim steadfastly refuses to meet his gaze. Doing this almost but not quite face to face is easier. He still wants to get up and rummage through his pans and start cooking something.

Tim glances back in surprise, just for a second, just enough that Bernard can watch him look guilty before hiding his face again. "I'm. You know I'm Robin, right? I'm not just friends with him, I'm him. I thought you knew that." And Bernard wants to scream at the top of his lungs, because he doesn't know how many times they can do this song and dance.

So he says it, outright this time, just to be clear there aren't any misunderstandings. "Yeah, Timmy. A few too many superheroes on your boat for me not to notice. For, uh, maybe more than just me, I don't know. I think everyone might know." People were making comments, after the rescue. They were both a little too stressed to pay attention, but probably there was stuff in there about Tim and Robin. A few knowing winks, at least.

"I hope everyone doesn't know. What a mess." There's a long pause, and then Tim takes a deep breath, and scooches over to Bernard, and wraps him in a hug, going boneless against him and breathing against his neck. Bernard's never sure whether Tim is trying to smell his aftershave or just sighing at the closeness, but his breathing changes. "You'll let me do it? Be Robin, I mean."

"Let you? It's not my business," Bernard says, and when Tim tenses against him, amends it to, "I mean, obviously I care, and I worry and stuff, but I'm not in charge of whether you're Robin. Batman is, right? Or maybe he isn't, considering what everyone else gets up to." He relaxes when Tim starts laughing.

"I wanted to tell you," Tim says, quietly. And Bernard thinks did you? but doesn't say it, because he's being a supportive boyfriend, and that's kind of a bitchy thing to say in the middle of what might be a heart to heart if they can actually get to that part of it without one of them chickening out. "I didn't want to tell you. I don't know. I don't want to put you in danger."

"Babe, I walk around with arms full of knives trying not to touch burning things all day," Bernard says, adding nothing about the streets of Gotham. Tim has enough to worry about without reminding him it's never possible to keep everyone safe, that there's always something unpredictable around the next corner. "Yesterday I got hot sauce on my dick."

"You what?" Tim says, tensing again, but this time it's clear from his stuttering breaths that he's trying to hold in laughter. Which is rich, because Bernard saw what Robin was doing last night. Some enterprising Riddler goon uploaded video proof that the suit only comes with a soft cup, and Riddler's cane works well as a bludgeoning weapon. So it's not like Bernard was the only reason they weren't having sex yesterday.

"Sometimes," Bernard says, with a long suffering sigh, "you chop hot peppers, and you simmer the sauce, and it smells amazing, and then you have to pee. And you forget to wash your hands until after." He winces, of course, but he was already wincing at remembering the video, which is also kind of hard not to laugh at. It's an awkward feeling. Kind of like talking through the Robin thing.

"I can get you a comm," Tim says, curling into his chest, speaking just a little too softly to hear completely, but what he means is coming through loud and clear. Bernard strokes Tim's hair and rests a cheek against his back. Tim words reverberate against him. "You can listen in whenever you want. Make sure I'm safe."

[mistystarshine]

Have a preview from the next chapter of Live Again which I am. Slowly. Working on.

*

“Yes, well. Respectfully, I try to be a little more careful with my words than Adam.”

The corner of her mouth quirks up. “Are you implying that he’s a loud-mouthed dumbass?”

“Oh, no, I’d never say something like that! But he, uh…” Bernard clears his throat. “He won a fight with the Head Exorcist by pissing her off so bad that she forgot to kill him, and I’ve gotta say, that is a… Skill.”

“Too bad. You would have been right.”

“Okay, fine. He’s not the brightest star in the sky,” Bernard flatly says.

Lute lets out a soft huff.

“He isn’t as dark as he used to be, though,” Bernard adds. “I’m not gonna pretend like I have any right to say that he’s made up for all the folks he killed, but… He’s a better person than he used to be. The both of you are. That’s something to be proud of.”

There it is again, the bullshit that has Lute weighing the merits of tearing the phone out of the wall. Her eyes do not sting and her throat does not tighten. She is not going to let herself get caught up in the pressure welling up in her chest. All that she needs is a few minutes to breathe and push all that crap away. Once she has had that, “I’ll tell Adam that you wish him a fast recovery.”

“Great!” Bernard exclaims. “I mean, I should hope he already knows that, but y’know, telling him’s pretty great too!”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

Lute waits for him to hang up.

He doesn’t.

“…Did you need something else?” she warily asks.

“Actually, yeah.” Bernard’s voice goes dead and flat. “Can you put Lucifer on the phone? We want our fucking lake back.”