#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.

[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]

First chapter || << Prev chapter || Next chapter >>

----

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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[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.

[yellowocaballero]

Itwau? Covid puppy Tim just sounds very funny to me lol

"AU where Tim was quarantined in a radioactive house with the least functional family of all time and he's released into the wild three years later incredibly under socialized and dysfunctional" is, in fact, the premise.

I'm so vauguely unhappy with the fic that I refuse to post it. But also it's not straight up bad. But also I'm worried that it doesn't do justice to Cass, and doing justice to Cass is important to me. But also isn't any predominant Cass good. But also blah blah blah have a scene.

Short scene, and a CW for references to a sexual relationship between a minor and an adult. And an apology to Tim/Bernard shippers. The scene's a good summary of everyone's dysfunction, I think.

A rock collided with the window.

Tim’s aim was true, as always. He shifted his balance on the withered tree branch, mindful of its tired creak, before flicking another pebble and hitting the glass panel again. The sharp thunk was clear in the mild night, and Tim only had to wait another minute before a face appeared in the window. Tim waved. The face grinned.

The carefully maintained window slid upwards, and Tim easily hopped off the branch to land on the windowsill and slide inside. The boy inside had already stepped away, locking the bedroom door and fixing the deadbolt.

“They home?” 

“Mom’s on nightshift and Dad’s out with his friends again.” Bernard turned back to Tim and smiled at him. ‘Out with his friends’ meant he was getting drunk and wouldn’t be back ‘til morning, but that hadn’t bothered Bernard in a while. “Hey, you.”

“Hey.” Tim stepped forward and kissed him eagerly, and after a half-second Bernard kissed back. It was a comforting and familiar kiss, and after so long it was definitely Tim’s favorite. “It’s so good to see you.”

Bernard gave him another kiss before stepping back, yanking some old clothing off his desk chair and stuffing it in the laundry tote. Tim shut the window and started taking off his mask, the buzzing energy in his limbs already melting away. Cass was expecting him back at three in the morning, so that gave him three hours here. More than he needed, probably, but it was never bad to surprise Cass by coming back early.

“How was your day at school?” Bernard asked archly, and Tim rolled his eyes. “Did you make the soccer team? How did the math test go?”

“How do your math tests go?” Tim asked pointedly, and Bernard abruptly looked a little guilty. “Right. Who cares, honestly. It’s not like you’re ever going to use the stuff.” Left unsaid: or ninety percent of what you’re learning in that weird little schooling co-op you attend, you freak.

“I will be loved for my pretty face, not my brains,” Bernard drawled, sitting down in his desk chair. Tim sat on the bed and pressed the secret button on his boots, letting them deflate and yanking them off. “I shall marry a powerful enforcer for the Penguin and live the rest of my life awash in chocolate and weed.”

“Will you still remember me when you’re rich and powerful?” Tim panned. He started unbuckling his tunic, undoing the golden arrow-shaped clasps running down the center. “The little girl next door?”

“You are anything but the girl next door.”

“Oh, I’m well aware.” Tim smirked a little, letting his hair fall over his face in the motion he knew Bernard liked to see. “You’re already fucking a territory boss, Bernard, it’s hard to go up from here.”

“Uh. Yeah.” Bernard laughed a little, short and sharp. “That’s still so wild. Only fifteen and you’re already a gang leader. You’re, like, one of the fifteen most powerful people in Gotham.”

“Sure am. Let me know if your parents need another job or anything. I don’t got a lot of employees, but I can find something for ‘em.” Tim brightened. “If you guys ever need to run into protected territory you know I’m right next door! You’d be the safest teenager outside of the Garden.”

“That’s - really nice of you, Tim. Thanks.” Bernard caught Tim’s thrown tunic, putting it on the desk behind him. His eyes lingered on the dull R, but he quickly shoved it away. “We’re doing okay, though. I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

“You don’t have to tell me, I’ll find out.” 

“Fantastic things to hear. I love it.”

Tim grinned at him, shucking his gloves and carefully tossing them at Bernard so he could put them next to the tunic. “You know what to expect from me.”

“Lord help me, I definitely do.” Bernard held the gloves, finger rubbing against a ridged green thumb. His posture was stiff. Tense. He was nervous. Tim stopped undressing. “Look, I -”

“Quiet.”

Bernard fell silent instantly. Also suspicious. Bernard was one of the more contrary people Tim had ever met, and he knew Helena. Tim stood up, silently walking towards the window and sliding the panel open so he could sit on the windowsill and check the surroundings. Nobody out there. It was the only window in the bedroom, so Tim was forced to close it. He spot-checked the rest of the room, finding nothing out of ordinary.

Long-suffering, Bernard said, “Tim. Why are you looking for an ambush?”

“You’re nervous,” Tim said bluntly. Bernard opened his mouth indignantly. “You would break if your parents were kidnapped.”

“I - yeah, fair.” Bernard paused, clearly debating with himself, before saying something he was clearly fairly certain he’d regret. “What did your other ambushes look like?”

“Somebody planted intel of a human trafficking ring in a brothel,” Tim said. He undid the locks on the door and poked his head out into the hallway, just to be sure. “There were trafficking victims. But there were also several pounds of explosives.”

“Yikes. Everybody make it out of that one alright?”

“Yeah, we always check over the premises of a tip like that. If the story involves starving babies being cooked into stews it’s a dead giveaway for a trap.” Tim closed and re-locked the door. Bernard opened his mouth again. “Do you really want to ask that question?”

“...point!” 

“Don’t worry about it, babe.” Tim walked over and leaned against Bernard’s desk, crossing his arms and grinning down at him. The cool look was slightly hampered by the wobbly leg. He’d have to offer to repair that. “The Upper West Side doesn’t see the worst of it. Don’t do anything stupid and you should be okay. And you get in any trouble just call me.”

Bernard smiled weakly. He grabbed Tim’s hand and squeezed, and Tim squeezed back. Tim wondered when would be a good time to start undressing him. Three hours was enough, but they should probably start. “It’s weird thinking about how crazy fucking lucky I am. My mom has a job with that laundry group and my dad just got that reconstruction job for the cops.” Tim did not like the cops as much as the cops liked the cops, but Gordon kept them in check. “We still live in our house. I got my own job at the orchard. The co-op and my friend and stuff. I got you. Couldn’t have imagined this three years ago.”

Three years ago Bernard and his family lived like anybody else - hiding from looters and scavenging for FEMA aid. “There’s more and more families like yours in Gotham every day,” Tim said. The thought made his heart feel lighter. As Robin, he saw the change grow and grow. It was amazing to watch. “Just watch, Bernard. One day soon everybody’s going to have a job. Everybody’s going to have food on the table. Gotham’s getting better. Isn’t it fucking wild?”

“I feel like a person again,” Bernard said. “We were living like fucking animals for ages and now I feel like a human person. Shit, Tim, I know you see the worst of the worst nonstop. Maybe one day soon you won’t have to see grotesque shit every day.”

“Maybe one day soon I’ll stop having to punch the grotesque in the face,” Tim said lightly. “Speaking of the grotesque, hurry up and strip for me.”

Bernard froze, and Tim knew why he had been anxious and tense since Tim stepped into his room.

“Ah,” Tim said.

Hurriedly, as if he wasn’t already far too late, Bernard said, “Can we talk?”

Tim stared at him, and he knew the weight had returned to his expression. Bernard’s eyes anxiously flickered around the room before focusing in on Tim, steady and alert in an intimately familiar way.

Bernard was a confident person. He probably used to be fearless. Tim wouldn’t know. Nobody was fearless in Gotham anymore, and more than anything Bernard was a very, very smart person. It was just good sense to be careful with the apprentice of the most dangerous person in Gotham. And, these days, a gang leader. 

Tim had been dangerous when they first met, even at fourteen. He had been nicer back then, but Bernard hadn’t been stupider. It had been a risk. Hero had begun to fit strangely on Batman. 

But they had been two very smart, very curious boys with little adult supervision. Having sex with Robin did incredible things to Bernard’s already considerable ego and Tim liked being cool and hot to somebody as cool and hot as Bernard. 

Bernard had often bemoaned how he was fucking actual Robin and he couldn’t even tell anybody. He was so cool and sexy he had bagged actual Robin, and yet he would never rule the school. Tim had laughed and swatted him with a pillow.

The thought of anybody wanting to brag over being with Tim, that scrawny nerd Tim Drake with no friends and nothing interesting about him…life had gone crazy in every way. 

They had always limited it to Tim sneaking into his bedroom in the middle of the night. He had never even been downstairs. Tim had been excruciatingly clear that they were casual, Bernard had felt extremely adult at the concept of casual sex, and they both had a regular hook-up ever since. Tim just dropped by whenever he was anxious, stressed, wired, or bored. He really hoped Bernard hadn’t caught feelings. He wasn’t so sure. Cass had never met him, so he couldn’t ask. Tim didn’t go into detail about Robin stuff, and Bernard didn’t go into detail trying to satisfy his insatiable curiosity about his dubiously ethical missions.

Bernard had only brought up a rumor once. The Jokerz in Amusement Mile had grown far too rowdy, and some of the leaders were making noises about taking the territory from Harley and returning it to ‘the real mad lads!’. Harley had asked Tim and Cass to come in and help definitively destroy the burgeoning coup before it began. 

Destroying coups obviously involved a lot more than beating up the rabble rousers and calling it a day. It was really a fear based endeavor. You had to stop anybody from even dreaming of crossing you again. Harley had done most of the work, but Tim and Cass played back-up. They weren’t Batman, but they definitely had their own cred on their own merits.

Tim had just waved off his concerns. “You know way better than to listen to the Batman rumors, man. Just ignore them.”

“Yeah, I know they’re all Batman Morningstar. I was just asking if they’re true.”

“And I was just telling you to ignore them,” Tim had snapped. “Why are you arguing with me?”

That had ended with Tim leaving in a huff and Bernard closing the window in a huff. But Bernard hadn’t asked again, so Tim counted that one a win. Bernard was the most curious person Tim had ever met, a miniature investigative reporter in an uncaring apocalypse, and a part of him was always striving to seek out the truth and ferret out secrets. 

Bernard had also grown a survival instinct. He didn’t do that anymore. Even with Tim.

So Tim kept his posture loose and forced his expression into something light and pleasantly neutral. Bernard recognized the mask, but he also recognized the ‘I’m pretending I’m not a dangerous person so you feel safe’ face, and he silently gestured to the bed. Tim slowly sat down, bouncing a little old on the old mattress, and Bernard slowly moved to sit next to him. 

Their thighs brushed, but they didn’t look at each other. They sat in silence a little, Bernard wrangling hard with how to say something difficult. Tim really hoped this was just ‘let’s not do this anymore’ and not ‘I jumped inside radioactive waste and I’m going to conquer Gotham’. 

Finally, Bernard said, “You remember Sid?”

Thank god. No need to bring out the Hazmat suit.

“The guy in your math group?” Tim asked. To his own strange surprise, he couldn’t fight the smile. “The reason you failed your test?”

Bernard flushed, shoving him lightly on the shoulder. “You’re the one who snuck in the night before we had it!”

“Yes, I’m so sorry I disrespected the sanctity of your math club to have fantastic sex with you. It’s all my fault. Nothing to do with the guy who had sex with you of undetermined quality during your math club.”

“It’s not a club, it’s a co-op - oh, never mind.” Bernard had visibly relaxed, and Tim gave himself a mental pat on the back. He saw Bernard mentally cross out ‘Robin’s gonna go into a jealous rage’ on his list of potential conversation outcomes. “We’re just getting…I don’t know. I like him a lot. Like, a lot a lot. I haven’t met anybody as nice as him in years. I’ve started volunteering at the soup kitchen with him, he’s been teaching me how to make tamales. He’s useless with art, but he keeps on borrowing my art supplies to draw trees. Terribly. He sucks.”

They had been going on dates? He hadn’t mentioned that. “I thought you guys were casual too.”

“It started out that way. But we just saw each other in class so much, and he’d always insist on walking me home the entire way. It was so corny. And…I don’t know, Tim. I just didn’t want something casual anymore. We had a connection. So he asked if we could get more serious. And I said yeah.” Bernard shrugged, rubbing his shoulder. He ripped it open on a barbed wire spike two years ago, and it hadn’t healed right. Tim gave him small back massages sometimes to loosen it up. “He says that he wants to be monogamous and just focus on each other. I want that too. So we both agreed to stop seeing our other guys. So I guess what I’m saying is - it’s really not personal Tim, I swear, it’s just - like, the shape of my life right now -”

“Dude,” Tim said. “I’m so fucking happy for you.”

Bernard sagged, all of the tension drained from his body. “Thank god.”

“What, did you want me to start crying?” Fat chance of that. Bernard grimaced. He had obviously been worried about that and a lot more. “You’re an awesome lay and I’ll miss being with you a lot. But that’s not worth ruining the good thing you have going on right now. You deserve to be happy. If monogamy is what’s making you happy right now, then go for it.”

“You are taking this super well,” Bernard said, almost incredulous. “We’ve been seeing each other for a year and a half, dude. It’d be pretty normal to be upset.”

“Are you kidding?” Tim asked. “I said a billion times that we were casual, Bernard.”

“I’m aware, but casual doesn’t mean we don’t give a shit about each other.”

“Of course I give a shit about you. That’s why I’m really glad you’re happy.” Tim clapped Bernard on the shoulder and stood up, moving to grab his left glove. “I liked sleeping with you because you’re a good guy and a lot of fun. But you know I really just sleep with people for fun, Bernard.”

Benard’s mouth twisted. “Fun’s one word for it.”

“Stress relief,” Tim amended. “And there’s plenty of people in Gotham I can relieve stress with. I got, like, four on the regular.”

“What, including the twenty year old?”

“You have some sort of vendetta against Ruby and it’s very rude.”

“She’s twenty, she needs to get someone her own age.”

“It’s really none of your business. So come on, tell me more about Sid. Amusement Mile’s actually pretty great for date night these days.”

“You’re insane.”

Tim shoved his uniform on as Bernard told him more about Sid. They were pretty sickening. Tim could tell that they would only get worse. Monogamy was out of fashion among kids these days, which caused some pretty spectacular juvenile drama. Tim was more familiar with the Garden’s culture than the greater Gotham teen culture, but the Garden’s queer scene was pretty dire. All the gay people had already slept with each other and battle lines had been drawn. 

Truthfully, some part of Tim had always worried. He knew distantly that he had started kind of young, and that he put very little of himself into any of his partners. They were all short-term. But he knew he had taken Bernard’s virginity, and that Bernard was the person he kept coming back to, and he didn’t want his weird-ass sex life to conflict with Bernard’s normal life. His normal happiness, as much as any of them could possibly scrape together happiness from nothing. He thought he might have ruined him. That, at least, was a relief.

“Tim.”

Tim finished sliding up the window panel, turning around. Bernard stood in front of him, uncertain and anxious and sad. As gorgeous as ever. Thin, without muscle or hard edges. Big eyes and sure hands. He had been so awkward as a kid, but had more than made up for it with enthusiasm. He had been warm.

“Are you ever going to find somebody too?” Bernard asked. “I mean - are you ever going to let yourself?”

“I’m Robin, dude. Ninety five percent of my time is spent doing Robin shit.” Tim sat down on the window frame, swinging his legs outside the house. “My life isn’t schools and friends and boys. So you have fun for both of us, okay?”

Bernard crossed his arms, mouth twisting. “I want to ask if we can still be friends, or if we can still meet up after this and do normal teen boy shit. But I’m pretty sure I know the answer to that one.”

“If you ever need help, page me,” Tim said. “I’ll come running.”

He disappeared in a swish of cape, and after a few seconds he heard Bernard sigh and close the window after him. 

Tim sat down against the wall of Bernard’s house, hiding in the darkness obscuring him from view. He pulled his knees to his chest and dropped his forehead on his kneecaps, wrapping his arms around his knees. 

Tim sat like that until the moment had passed - unmoving and silent. He didn’t cry. He didn’t even think much. He just sat there, curling into himself.

Then he stood up and left, roaring his bike engine a little louder than necessary and ripping away from the battered street.

*

The drive home was longer than usual. Batman was waist deep in a case that was proving to be a massive pain in the ass, so he had called in all of them to help. Now it was everybody’s pain in the ass. Cass and Tim had been running ragged on Batman’s heels for the past two days, so they had crashed in the Clocktower for the night. Stumbling home from a long night out and falling into the king sized bed with Cass in their shared room on the fifth floor was sweetly nostalgic, and Tim had been sleeping easy the past two nights. Diamond District was theirs, but it just wasn’t familiar like the Clocktower was. 

Tim pulled into the garage at 1:30am, far before his promised return time. Cass would be happy. He already sorely missed her, even after less than two hours away. He needed a hug. Or sister cuddles, which sometimes were sweet and sometimes involved her lying on him and refusing to move. Fuck, he’d even take that right now.

For the first time in a while Tim wished desperately that Cass was not privy to every single thought and emotion he had. He didn’t want to share this with her, but there was really no way around it. She wouldn’t mention it if he didn’t want her to, but she would still know. Best they could do.

He dragged himself into the lobby of the Clocktower, which was the one floor that had rooms and objects for real people who actually used the Clocktower for things that were not fighting crime. Barbara had, obviously, ripped it all up and replaced it with servers. They used the ground floor above the garage as the storage space for their heavier and more durable supplies, such as replacement parts for the cars. It was also where they kept the brig. Don’t ask. 

The lobby boasted a leftover reception desk, made of thin wood with a cracked marble top that had seen better days. Old rolling chairs were pulled against the sides, and the desktop was cleared of everything but cigarette butts and ashes - Helena wasn’t allowed to smoke inside. There was normally nobody sitting on the rolling chair. Today, there was Batman.

Tim stopped short. It wasn’t Batman - it was Bruce, wearing sleep pants and a tattered shirt. Sandals, for the consistent potential tetanus. Tim had barely a few seconds to notice that Bruce looked tired before he saw Tim’s entry, and the deep-set exhaustion settled into a glower.

“Tim!” Bruce barked, and Tim’s spine snapped ramrod straight. “Where have you been?”

What the hell? What was this? “Out?” Tim cried, beyond baffled. “Did something happen? Did I miss a rendezvous?”

“A rendez - Tim, you and Cassandra said you were retiring for the night two hours ago. I expected to find you in bed, not gone. Where were you?”

Holy shit. He couldn’t be serious. Tim couldn’t believe this. It strained his mind, like a weak computer trying to run one of Oracle’s three disc programs. 

“Okay,” Tim said slowly, “back up. You said we were off duty from the mission for the night. I didn’t fail to update you on anything.”

Bruce’s lip ticked backwards. “On mission or off, I expect you to be where you said you would be. And not sneaking out.”

Automatically, Tim said, “What makes you think I was sneaking out?”

“You deactivated the motion sensors, security cameras, and perimeter silent alerts. You also took the old suit without the tracker.”

Oh. Right. Yeah. That one was pure habit. He had been kind of guilty about this at first. “If my movements are off the field they don’t need to be logged.”

“Why don’t you want them logged,” Bruce said flatly.

“Why do you need them logged?”

“You were not where you said you would be and I couldn’t find you leaving on the cameras. If it wasn’t for Cassandra I would have worried that you were abducted.”

“There you go. Cass knew I was fine.” Abducted? From the Clocktower’s security system, with Cass right there? That was a completely irrational fear. “I wasn’t off the grid.”

“She wouldn’t tell me where you were.”

Right. Tim had sworn her to secrecy about this years ago. She had promised to keep it even from Bruce, but that had never been put to the test before. Man, she was brave. He’d have to find her a pastry. 

“That’s because I was on personal business. She told you I was fine, right?” Bruce’s lips thinned. “Then I was fine. I’m sorry, Bruce, can I be excused? Nothing I did tonight was mission relevant, so I can’t see where I broke any rules.”

“Broke any -” Bruce halted hard, mouth twisting strangely. “Right. I never gave you two a curfew.”

What the fuck. “We have work at any hour of the night.”

“I am well aware. Tim, I -” 

Bruce stopped short. He blinked hard at Tim. Tim tried to see if he could make a break for it or if he had to deal with being pointlessly reamed out for the next hour. 

Somewhat strangled, Bruce said, “You’re wearing your tunic improperly. Your boots are fixed unevenly. Your left glove is unlatched. Cassandra refused to tell me where you were.”

Ah. Shit. Tim didn’t blink. Lying was a terrible idea, so he stayed silent. It was important to take the time to compose the proper rhetoric.

Slowly, as if he couldn’t believe the words he was saying, Bruce said, “Tim, were you with a girl?”

“Not during mission hours.”

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend during mission hours,” Tim said. Or at all, but Bruce would perceive a flat denial as a lie. “I was not obligated to report this to you and I was not obligated to log my off-duty movements. I did not do anything wrong and I would like to be excused.”

Bruce stiffened, and Tim stiffened too. It was the oddest sort of Mexican standoff, one with uncertain weapons and an unknown result. The analytical part of Tim’s mind worked overtime to puzzle out how to get Bruce to leave him alone and get out of this. He had to figure out how Bruce was thinking and attack the train of thought directly. Through applying the art of misdirection, he could -

“I am not a punch clock, Tim,” Bruce said shortly, and Tim halted. “You aren’t allowed to do whatever you want, even if it’s outside of the Mission. I expect you to behave like an upright young man. Not sneaking out in the middle of…” Bruce sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why even hide this from me? I’ve never prevented Robin from having friends or partners in his civilian identity.”

Bernard had not been in his civilian identity. Whatsoever. Information that did not have to be shared.

“Taking off my mask is not a civilian identity. I don’t have a civilian identity. Where would I even find the time, Bruce? We get one day off a month and we work fourteen hour days. You already control how I spend fourteen hours of my day, and now you want me to log and document my two hours of free time a day? You should have specified.”

“That’s not the point,” Bruce said, and Tim could hear the frustration in his voice. He should probably back off and back down - just agree and apologize and be done with it - but it just wasn’t in him today. His head was pounding with exhaustion and his heart still hurt. “Omitting information is different from hiding it from me. I am only asking why you went through such great effort to hide something as simple as a girlfriend from me.”

It wasn’t a girlfriend. Bernard was not his girlfriend. None of them had ever been girlfriends, not even the actual women. The only permanent relationship he needed in his life was Cass, and everything else was stress relief. Or stressful, if it was the rest of the ‘family’.

He hated this picture Bruce painted. What must it have looked like to him? Was there some meet-cute during an undercover mission where Tim bumped into a redhead passionate about literature? Did they go for walks in the park, make tamales together? Did he tell her that he loved her, but they just couldn’t be together?

It was sickening. It was wrong. It had been Dick and Jason’s. Tim knew that was the picture summoned in his mind right now: Dick’s teenage flings, Jason’s juvenile middle school romances. 

What had that looked like for them? Had they sat around the dinner table, eating steak and potatoes talking about Dick’s day in Gotham Academy? Had Dick excused himself early, claiming that he was hanging out with Jennifer or Bailey or Heather? Had Bruce given him that extinct smile and asked - so Jennifer/Bailey/Heather, huh? You been seeing a lot of her, haven’t you? And Dick would stammer and pretend to be late and run out of the room, and maybe Bruce had laughed at him.

Jason would have told him. He would have burst into Bruce’s study where he was doing taxes or some ridiculous crap, announcing that he had gotten a date! With a girl, obviously, no homosexuality in this apple pie world. And Bruce would have clapped him on the shoulder and said something about how he was a man now or some utterly asinine bullshit like that.

Did Bruce think that was the situation? The idea itself was insulting. Batman wasn’t delusional. He was practical and grounded. He always considered all of the factors and made the decision that guaranteed the best outcome. He didn’t let pathetic fantasies control his behavior like this. Bruce wasn’t acting like Batman. 

Why did the thought flush such sick rage through Tim? It made red climb in at the corners of his vision, sending every inch of his skin buzzing. Bruce was supposed to act like Batman. Bruce was Batman. Everything Bruce did was the right thing to do because it was Batman doing it. And when Bruce strayed from that - forgot Batman like this - then Tim always pulled him back on the right path. It was always an accident, a slip of control. It had never been on purpose like this.

It was weak. It was weakness. Standing in a ruined Gotham, fucking daydreaming about Dick and Jason and mansions and schools and boyfriends and dates and connection and - while Tim was out in the real world, sacrificing for the real world. Hypocrisy. It was sheer hypocrisy. 

Tim lost his grip.

“I only tell you about the mission because that’s all you’ve ever fucking cared about!” Tim yelled. “I tried telling you about my life when I was a little kid and you shut me down every damn time! If I say it’s none of your goddamn business then it’s because you told me that! I always listen to you, I always do what you want, so don’t give me the third degree when I do exactly what you’ve trained me to do!”

Bruce completely shut down. His face blanked out, a weight settling onto his features. He stepped forward and Tim stood still, forcing himself not to tense. 

The sick anger flipped instantly into something else, just as powerful and nauseating. His eyes darted to the exit before he forced himself to keep them on Bruce.

It was natural. It was smart. Tim was confident, but he wasn’t fearless. He had never told Bernard that he understood how he felt. Sometimes he wondered if Bernard had known anyway. It was just the structure of their world, it was nobody’s fault. Bernard even felt it a few hours earlier, and god knew Tim had worked triple time to make sure he wasn’t rough with him. Bernard had noticed and appreciated the effort. Bruce never made the effort. Tim wasn’t sure if he had never noticed or if he just didn’t care. Or if it was the point. 

“You do not talk to me like that.” It wasn’t a threat or a command. He said it with the utter expectation that it would become true. “I expect you to act respectfully, Tim.”

“Yes, sir.”

“If you only have any respect for me as your mission command, then that’s your prerogative. We won’t have this conversation you find so useless again. But if you ever hide anything from me again, no matter how irrelevant it is to our relationship, you will be acting against the interests of the organization. Do you understand?”

You did not want to act against the interests of the organization. You did not.

“Yes, sir.”

“Sometimes I wonder if you actually understand anything I’m saying or if you are just trying to make me shut up.” Tim flinched hard, but Bruce just sighed. “Forget it. It’s in one ear and out the other with you. I can’t…just do what I say, Tim.”

“Yes, sir.” He worked hard to bite down on the words leaping to his tongue, but he had lost all ability to restrain them. “So do you want daily logs of my sex life or can they be weekly?”

Then Bruce’s expression really darkened, and Tim wasted no time in scampering off and taking the rickety freight elevator to his old bedroom. 

Cass was still awake, obviously. She was lying on their old bed, all of the lights on and playing the GameBoy. They had liberated a large cache of batteries from the Penguin, so they were booting up the GameBoys with abandon. When Tim walked in and flopped on the bed next to her he saw that she was playing Pokemon Blue again. It was kind of impressive that she had figured out how to play with a barely kindergarten reading level, but she could memorize the words and what they did well enough. Amazingly, the skills were transferring to real life. She could navigate some of the higher level children’s books now. She was so cool.

She looked up from her game, looking towards him. Tim watched her register it, all of it - Bernard and Bruce and moments obscured by shadows. She dropped the game and immediately pulled Tim into a hug, and Tim clutched onto her for dear life. 

Tim buried his face into her shoulder. “I just need you. Right?”

And Cass had heard him say the words verbally so many times before that she understood completely. She tapped the base of his spine twice with one knuckle. Yes. 

“You’re enough,” Tim said, because she fucking had to be. Because he had no other choice. Because she promised to protect him and keep him safe. Because she loved him and would stay, and that was all Tim needed. “This is enough.”

[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.”