#Bernard Waver

[genevieveetguy]

The King's Daughters (Saint-Cyr), Patricia Mazuy (2000)

#Patricia Mazuy #Yves Thomas #Isabelle Huppert #Nina Meurisse #Morgane Moré #Jean Pierre Kalfon #Simon Reggiani #Jean François Balmer #Anne Marev #Fien Troch #Ingrid Heiderscheidt #Bernard Waver #Jérémie Renier #Jeanne Le Bigot #Mathilde Lechasles #Thomas Mauch #John Cale #Ludo Troch #2000 #woman director

[timdrakegf]

alley rose 🍁 timbern

“don’t leave my hanging alone again. oh where’d you go alley rose?”

"I... I don't think I do this," the words come out soft and quiet, barely traversing through his tear-clogged throat. The words push past his plush lips, which Tim’s spent nights tracing and kissing to calm his racing heart from the stress every patrol places on him.

Tim swivels in his chair, drawn by the subtle tremor in Bernard's voice. His eyes, filled with concern, scan over the figure of his boyfriend. Bernard sits on their worn sage couch, fingers fidgeting with the loose threads he's absentmindedly pulled, a habit born from countless sleepless nights.

Tim's heart clenches at the sight of Bernard's distress, his work temporarily forgotten as he focuses on his normally cheery boyfriend. With tentative steps, he crosses the room, closing the distance between them until he's standing beside the sage couch, where Bernard sits with his head bowed. He positions himself before the couch's arm, folding his arms atop it before resting his forehead against them, angling his gaze upward to meet Bernard's.

Gently, Tim reaches out, his fingers brushing against Bernard's trembling hand. "Hey," he murmurs, his voice soft with concern. "Talk to me, Bernard. What's going on?"

Bernard lets out a shaky breath, finally meeting Tim's gaze, eyes brimming with unshed tears. "I just... I feel like I'm suffocating, Tim," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

Tim cocks his head in a way that Bernard would find endearing if not for the nature of the conversation. If not for what was about to come. “What do you mean, bear?” He takes his hand and strokes his knuckles softly. Bernard whimpers at the familiar touch of his calloused finger pads.

“Every time you leave Tim, every time you put on that stupid mask, I feel like someone is choking me.”

“You usually like tha-” Tim jokes, but at the look in Bernard’s eyes, the joke dies in his throat, and he’s back to concerned.

“Tim, I’m serious. I don’t think I do this anymore.” Bernard pulls his hand softly from Tim’s and folds them in his lap. He looks so small like this that it reminds Tim of a caged animal.

Tim shakes his head, “Well, what do you want me to do? How can I help?”

Bernard inhales shakily. Now or Never, he thinks.

“I can’t keep being second to Robin. I can’t keep wondering if you’re gonna come home and, if you do, in what condition. I can’t keep watching you get pummeled on our TV. I can’t keep doing this.”

"You can't ask me to quit, Bernard," Tim's voice is tinged with surprise, his gaze unwavering as he meets Bernard's pleading eyes. "Being Robin... it's who I am. It's what I do."

Bernard's expression softened, a mixture of concern and exasperation etched across his features. "But at what cost, Tim?" he implored, his voice tinged with desperation. "Every night, you put yourself in danger, risking your life for what? For some endless cycle of violence and chaos? No matter how many people risk their lives, Gotham doesn't change."

Tim's resolve wavers, a flicker of doubt flashing in his eyes. "I do it to protect the city," he countered, his voice strained with conviction. I do it to make a difference. I do it to honor Batman's legacy."

"But what about your legacy, Tim?" Bernard's voice rose with urgency, his frustration boiling over. "What about your life? Your safety? Don't you see what this is doing to you? Physically, emotionally... it's tearing you apart. It’s tearing us apart."

Tim's fists tighten. His facade of defiance builds under the weight of Bernard's words. "I... I can't just walk away," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Being Robin... it's all I know. It's who I've always been."

Bernard's heart ached at the vulnerability in Tim's words, his own frustration giving way to a surge of compassion. "But it doesn't have to define you, Tim," he insisted, reaching out to gently grasp Tim's fisted hands. "You're more than just a costume. More than just a sidekick. You're Tim Drake, and you deserve a chance to live your own life on your own terms."

The room felt like it was shrinking, suffocating Tim as he squared off against Bernard. His frustration boiled over, the words tumbling out in a torrent of anger and bitterness.

"You don't get it, Bernard." Tim spat, his voice laced with venom as he advanced on his boyfriend. "You're just jealous because you can't handle the fact that I'm out there making a difference while you sit here, wallowing in self-pity. I don’t exist for you."

Bernard recoiled as if struck, his eyes flashing with hurt and betrayal. "Is that what you really think, Tim?" he shot back, his voice trembling with suppressed emotion. "That this is about jealousy? Your own ego so blinds you you can't even see how much you're hurting yourself and everyone around you!"

Tim clenched his fists at his sides, his chest heaving with pent-up anger. "I don't need you to tell me what's best for me, Bernard," he snarled, the words dripping with contempt. I'm Robin, whether you like it or not. And if you can't handle that, then maybe you should just leave!"

The words hung in the air like a weight, suffocating in their intensity. Bernard's eyes flashed with hurt and betrayal, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "Fine," he bit out, his voice trembling with unshed tears. "If that's how you really feel, then maybe you're right. Maybe I should leave."

And with that, Bernard turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, leaving Tim alone with the bitter taste of regret on his lips. But even as the door slammed shut behind him, Tim couldn't shake the feeling that he'd just made the biggest mistake of his life.

#batfamily #bruce wayne #robin #tim drake #batfam #bernard dowd #tim drake x bernard dowd #timothy drake #angst #fanfic #one shot #ficlet #timber #timbern #tim drake fanfiction

[denimbex1986]

'David Tennant and Catherine Tate pay tribute to Bernard Cribbins after his posthumous appearance in Doctor Who's 60th anniversary special, "Wild Blue Yonder." In the special, Cribbins briefly reprises his role as Wilfred Mott, the grandfather of Donna Noble (Tate) and longtime friend of the Doctor (Tennant). Sadly, Cribbins passed away on July 27, 2022, making his return as Mott his final TV appearance. He first began portraying the character in 2007 alongside Tennant's Doctor, which adds an emotional layer to their 60th anniversary reunion.

While appearing on Doctor Who: Unleashed, Tennant and Tate paid tribute to their late Doctor Who 60th anniversary co-star following the premiere of "Wild Blue Yonder." Tennant describes how "delighted" they were when they learned Cribbins was returning for the special, while Tate explained that she and Tennant had grown up watching Cribbins' works as children. Check out their statements below:

Tennant: We were beyond delighted when we knew that Bernard was going to be able to come back. It means so much to me, personally, and I think to the show as a whole, really, that he was there. That character meant so much to so many people.

Tate: Bernard will always, obviously, hold a very special place in my heart, because he always did, even before I knew him, because David and I kind of grew up with watching Bernard on TV, and he was the voice of the Wombles and loads of stuff that would define our childhood. And so having him play my grandad was amazing.

Bernard Cribbins' Doctor Who Legacy

Cribbins left behind quite a legacy following his decades-long career, in which he appeared in notable works such as The Railway Children and Frenzy. Additionally, as Tennant described, he held a special place in the Doctor Who universe. His experience with the franchise actually began back in 1966 when he starred in Daleks' Invasion Earth 2150 A.D. The film wasn't canon to the Doctor Who TV series, but it was inspired by the show and marked Cribbins' first stint as a companion of the Doctor. Little did he know that over 41 years later, he'd become an official Doctor Who companion.

Cribbins first appeared in Doctor Who as Mott in the Christmas special "Voyage of the Damned." He was running a newspaper stand in London and was revealed to be one of the few residents remaining in the city over the holidays despite all the extraterrestrial happenings. The Doctor teleported away then, leaving Mott perplexed. However, that wasn't the end of the story. He returned in Doctor Who season 4, episode 1, "Partners in Crime," where it's revealed he is Donna's grandfather. With his interests in astronomy and alien conspiracy theories, he wholeheartedly supports Donna's desire to travel the world with the Doctor.

Occasionally joining their adventures, Mott fought Daleks, made daring escapes, and later helped save Donna's life by ensuring she wouldn't remember the Doctor. However, he was drawn to the Doctor again in "The End of Time" and became his temporary companion. Ultimately, the Doctor sacrifices his life to save Mott, a decision the Time Lord never regretted. "Wild Blue Yonder" brings Mott's story full circle as it's revealed his faith in the Doctor never wavered. His Doctor Who story ends with his reunion with the Doctor and his hope that the world will be saved again.

Note

Showrunner Russell T Davies has confirmed Mott will be mentioned in the final Doctor Who 60th anniversary special, but he won't appear onscreen as Cribbens only filmed one scene.'

#Doctor Who #Bernard Cribbins #Wilfred Mott #Wild Blue Yonder #David Tennant #Catherine Tate #Donna Noble #The Railway Children #60th Anniversary #Doctor Who: Unleashed #The End of Time #Voyage of the Damned #Partners in Crime

[gizmocrate-werecrow]

Pikmin au fic

Ummm I got a fic it’s a what if sort of thing.

Title TBD

This wasn't what he signed up for when the rescue alarm went off, this wasn't what he signed up for as a mysterious force caused the ship to waver, this is not what he signed up for when both he and Bernard landed on the planet.

What he especially didn't sign up for was a ‘dandori battle’.

Right now Dingo was face to face with a strange creature, they had red fur covering their face and had a stem with a leaf poking from their head, by their side was a rescue dog with a coat colour he had never seen before and a leaf for a tail, its beady eyes staring into his soul before the creature did a whistle.

Dingo could only watch in horror as the dog dragged Bernard to the middle of the strange tripod bulb, he could only watch as the pilot was sucked into it and after a second or two Bernard was spat out by the thing, except he had changed, there was purple coloured fur on him.

“What did you do to him!’ Dingo demanded, his fists clenched and fighting back the urge to run away from this horror show.

“To survive this planet, one must embrace Dandori…prove to me you have the skill to save this castaway.” The red furred creature spoke and much to Dingo’s surprise, with a deep voice that sounded weary and tired. 

To hell with that! The creature turned Bernard into…something! He needed to save him right now not with whatever the creature was planning! Dingo quickly dashed across the arena, dodging monsters that came out of a fever dream (most likely Yonny’s knowing the doctor) and was about to introduce the creature to his fist when he was knocked over by the dog.

“You do not wish to follow what I have set for you, I am sorry it had to come to this.” The creature said, he pressed a button on Dingo’s suit and whistled.

Dingo could feel his body grow lax as the emergency statis activated, the last thing he saw before everything turned dark was the eyes, so many eyes staring at him and the last thing he felt was pain on the top of his head.

—

Dingo opened his eyes and groaned. There was a throbbing pain in his head and light chitters echoing in his ears, Dingo took a deep breath and weakly stood up, next to him was a purple furred creature fast asleep, the leaf on the top of their head glowing softly. Dingo tentatively reached his hand out and touched it. It was not fur like he guessed it to be but leaves, now when he thought about it the creature that he encountered earlier had a similar look.

The creature jolted up, their eyes seemingly glowing with the glare one would get when wearing shades in the sun.

Shades…

“Bernard is that you?!” Dingo cried out, he stood the pilot up and looked up and down while the mental chittering grew louder and louder.

“D-d-d-d-d-d-d…Dandori…I want to do DANDORI. Forever…and ever…until the END.”

Leaves and dandori obsession be damned that way of talking tipped Dingo off, Bernard happily walked off to the nearest cave entrance while whistling a little ditty that only he would know. Dingo ran after him. “Wait! What about finding the rescue corp? The mission?”

“Does THAT do good dandori…or not?” Bernard asked and looked up at the skies of the strange planet they found themselves on without a care of why he was here or what had happened to him

“Just what was with this Dandori obsession anyway?! This is absurd Bernard, we should find a way to help you and–” Dingo started to rant before he caught a glimpse of himself in the water.

There was someone else in the place of his reflection, someone with his headband and hair color, the mental chittering was starting to drown his own thoughts as Dingo knelt by the water and took a long look at the reflection.

There was a person whose face was covered in light red leaves and a stem poking from his head.

Dingo buckled down at the shock as the chorus of chittering grew clear to him.

“DANDORI DANDORI DANDORI DANDORI DANDORI DANDORI DANDORI DANDORI DANDORI.” Was all he could hear.

(this isn’t what I usually post but I’ve been on a pikmin four kick and made this on two hours of sleep)

#Pikmin #pikmin 4 #dingo pikmin #Pikmin Bernard #pikmin 4 spoilers #fanfic #moss pikmin #olimin #Leafling

[ravenclawella]

The Marks That Make Us

(Sebastian x f!OC x Ominis)

Summary: Evelyn, the hero of Hogwarts, is facing a new challenge on a much more personal level. And an enemy much closer to home. New tribulations, trials and torture now force her to choose between the two she loves the most or a prospective husband that will do anything to have her.

Available on AO3 Tumblr Chapter masterlist:

Warnings for this chapter

None.

Chapter 2: Beasts & Besties

“Tell me again, why we agreed to disperse this poacher camp in the middle of the night?” Ominis moaned, following closely behind his two friends. “You said I wasn’t to go alone. Remember?” Evelyn squinted at the tree line, finding the firelight of the camp. “I was perfectly fine to do this by myself.” “Which was completely out of the question, by the way.” Sebastian nudged her playfully.  “But someone didn’t think the two of us could handle it” he added in a hushed whisper. “Of course not. I don’t want to find you both in the infirmary. You’re not exactly the poster boy for responsibility, Sebastian.” Ominis grumbled. “Both of you, shush. We’re nearly there. We need the element of surprise.” Evelyn scolded, quietly casting her disillusionment charm. The boys cast their charms and followed her to the the camp. They each took a separate posting around the camp, surrounding the area to cause their planned havoc. 

A large bonfire lit the majority of the camp, the light from the flames licked the sides of the tents and cages. One poacher sat on a short vertical log near the fire, extending his hands towards the flames in an effort to keep warm. “Confringo” Evelyn whispered, pointing her wand at the stump of wood he sat on. It immediately caught fire and exploded beneath him, causing the man to startle and bolt upright in fear.  “Who’s there?” He looked around, his arm shook from being caught off-guard. Evelyn snuck behind another tree, careful to ensure she didn’t get caught.  “Flippendo” Ominis whispered from his position near one of the tents. The lone poacher fell face forward into the dirt, caught unaware from behind. He jumped back to his feet in an instant and spun around.  “Whatever this is, this isn’t funny Bernard.” He said, his voice wavering as he spun from left to right searching for the culprit, with his wand arm extended.

Meanwhile, Sebastian scouted the camp for other poachers, but to his disdain, found none. He continued to look around, hoping to find at least one poacher to duel. That’s when he found them. The cages holding the beasts Evelyn had spoken of. He knelt beside one and saw a small black niffler sat sadly, playing with it’s feet. When Sebastian moved the cage to find the lock, the niffler looked up at the disillusioned figure and made a happy squeak. “Just a few more seconds little one, we’ll have you right out” Sebastian said to the small creature. Just as he clasped his hand around the lock something small poked sharply into his back. “Stand up slowly, lad. No sudden movements.” The rough voice commanded. Sebastian rose slowly, thinking over his next actions and cursing himself for letting down his guard so easily.

“Petrificus totalis” Evelyn spoke aloud, now standing over the body she and Ominis had worked against. She bent down in front of him and picked up his wand, snapping it in two. She wiggled the two pieces in front of his eyes.  “When you are free, you will run. Don’t make me regret leaving you alive” she purred, throwing the wand into the fire.  “Ominis, keep searching for the cages. I’ll look out for more poachers.” She commanded. Ominis nodded and took a step around the tent only to be attacked. “Expelliarmus” the husky voice spoke, throwing Ominis’ wand out of reach. Evelyn whipped her head to her right to see Ominis now being held by a tall man, who grinned at her. Before she could speak, a shuffle to her right brought her attention to two more figures. A rather wide man held Sebastian’s wand and had his own pressed to his throat. Sebastian struggled against the man but was quickly kicked in the back of his legs to kneel in the dirt.  “Now, lass. Put down your wand and maybe, we’ll let your friends go.” The rough voice demanded. Evelyn looked to Sebastian who tried his best to shake his head. “Leave us. Run.” Ominis called out. Evelyn stood her ground. She knew she could have done this alone, she wouldn’t have cared if she had found herself in this situation. 

Seeing Sebastian and Ominis in danger triggered something primal in her. Power crackled from her feet to her fingers. She lifted her hands above her head and brought them both down as if a magnet had pulled them to the ground. Her eyes gleamed bright red against the firelight, and sparks erupted from her fingertips. The sparks crawled along the floor, searching for the poachers that held her friends captive. They left a large space around Sebastian and Ominis untouched. Once the sparks found their target, a warning bell chimed in her head and she was briefly reminded of Ominis’ reluctance to cause harm. She exhaled and clapped her hands together, the sparks suddenly engulfed their targets into a puff of smoke, each leaving a black chicken in their place. 

Sebastian watched as her eyes faded from their magic infused red, back to their usual green. “Ominis, you should know that I would never run.” She chuckled, she bent down to pick up his wand from the floor. She gently placed it back into his hand and let him observe his surroundings. “So, that was…” Sebastian started, getting up from his knees. “Ah, yeah. Sorry. I really didn’t think we’d get caught” She shrugged. “Amazing, Evie. That was amazing!” Sebastian gushed. “SEBASTIAN. I cannot believe you right now” Ominis shook his head. “Oh Ominis, if you had seen how she just transformed them, you would be in love too” “In love huh?” Evelyn snickered, watching Sebastian trip over his words. “Before Sebastian proposes, I think we should find those beasts” Ominis chuckled at his friend’s expense, knowing that he would be sporting a full body blush from embarrassment.  “Oh, I found the cages already. They’re over here.” Sebastian rubbed the back of his neck and led them to the row of cages he found. Evelyn took out her napsack and looked to them both.  “Okay, remember to put them in the napsack so we can put them in the vivariums.” Evelyn reminded them, plopping the bag down in front of Sebastian.  “I’m going to check the camp just to make sure we don’t get surprised again.” Evelyn announced “Alone?” Ominis frowned. “I think I can handle it. I’ll yell if I need backup” She patted his shoulder and left to check the tents.  “In love, huh?” Ominis grinned at Sebastian. “Shut up Ominis. Go unlock that cage over there”. Sebastian turned to the niffler cage he had tried to unlock earlier.

“Guess who’s back” He smiled, hearing the niffler honk in excitement. It’s little hands motioned upwards, trying to grab at him. Once he unlocked the door the niffler hurridly made it’s way up Sebastian’s arms and climbed into his hair. Before Sebastian could smile the niffler started to squeak and pull at his hair, trying to stuff it into it’s pouch. “Owh. Hey. Stop that!” Sebastian attempted to remove the niffler from his head, but it only gripped his hair tighter. Evelyn came back into sight just as she saw Sebastian trying his best to pull the niffler from his messy auburn locks. “Oh, that’s adorable.” “It’s not. It’s a little demon, get it off me!” He whined. “You should take it as a compliment. This little guy just thinks your hair looks like treasure. With the light from the fire, I can understand why it would think you had golden locks” She smiled, lifting up her arms to untangle the niffler from his hair. He leaned down a little to allow her an easier time of untangling the beast, he couldn’t help but admire her features as she tried her best to avoid pulling his hair.  “Okay, into the sack with you” She carefully placed the niffler into her napsack and looked back to Sebastian. “Did you see where Ominis went?” “Yeah he’s just behind that tower of empty crates” He pointed. The pair were shocked to find Ominis on the ground, surrounded by at least eight puffskeins, giggling quietly. “Ominis Gaunt. Are you, having fun?” Sebastian asked with a fake gasp, shocking Ominis to sit up quickly and clear his throat.  “I. They overwhelmed me. I tried to carry them all back but they tickled. They…” “It’s okay, Ominis. I think it’s cute that you like puffskeins.” Before Evelyn could notice the blush forming on his cheeks she began to pick up the puffskeins and pop them inside her napsack, one by one until she saw the last one was still in Ominis’ arms. “Did you want to put this one in?” She asked, gently rubbing his wrist, ignoring the discomfort in her arm that seemed to appear whenever she made contact with her friends. “I-yes. Please.” He gently placed the puffskein into the bag. Once Evelyn closed the bag she noticed one more cage that needed to be unlocked. At first she had thought the cage was empty, but dark movement caught her eye. When Evelyn got closer she gasped. “Sebastian, help me with this lock” She couldn’t focus properly, seeing the baby thestral whine for it’s mother. It couldn’t have been more than a few days old. Once the gate was open she reached in gingerly and picked up the tiny thestral. It whinnied quietly and nuzzled at her hair. Ominis held the napsack beside him, ready for whatever beast she had needed to place into it, but found himself holding it closed as he listened to Evelyn sniffle.  “They’re safe now, Evelyn. You saved them” He quietly comforted her. He had meant to place his hand on her shoulder, but found his hand on top of the thestrals head instead due to it leaning on her shoulder. It gently nipped at his fingers when he stroked it’s beak. “We should head back. Get them to the vivarium’s before it gets too late in the evening.” Sebastian reminded them both. Evelyn wiped her eyes that threated to spill their tears.  “One of my thestrals recently had a fawn, she’ll look after this little one. I’m sure of it.” She smiled, carefully picking up the thestral that whined at her for stopping their cuddle. She placed it into the napsack with extra care. Ominis chuckled lightly at the baby thestrals wish to remain snuggled in Evelyn’s arms.  “C’mon you two. Let’s head back.” Evelyn stood and linked her arms into Sebastian’s and Ominis’, just as they had many times before. Though, since the incident with the snidgets, she had found that the mark on her arm increasingly grew irritated when she made physical contact with either of the pair. Despite the continued irritation, she felt comforted by the closeness of her two friends who continued to help her on her adventures. 

****

“Ah, welcome to our side of the hall” Samantha chuckled, seeing Evelyn’s pair of Slytherin’s sit down on either side of her. The two sat and began to collect their food onto their plates with haste. Amit nearly mentioned that a buffalo had more table manners than Sebastian did in the morning…but thought better of it when Evelyn looked directly at him, almost challenging him to say something. “How are the beasts we rescued last night?” Ominis asked, sipping his teacup slowly. “They’re settling in well. Thank you for your help last night. Both of you.” Evelyn smiled, placing her hand on Ominis’ arm. “Though, I daresay the niffler misses you, Sebastian” She chuckled, reaching for a slice of toast, the mark on her arm remained ever visible to her friends. They had briefly discussed the scar before and concluded that a poacher had simply been despicable at the time. Though, they had only ever seen it pale and silver. Today it appeared rather red and irritated.  “Stop scratching it” Amit frowned at Evelyn from across the table, who had begun to scratch at the mark on her left arm.  “Does it hurt?” Sebastian asked, eying up the mark. It appeared pinker than how he had previously seen it. Evelyn shifted uncomfortably from the attention her friends now gave her arm.   “I didn’t even realise I was doing it” She shrugged, taking a bite out of her toast.  “I’ve been thinking about who the mystery ‘G’ could be.” Amit began, earning a groan from Evelyn. “I’ve got a theory myself” Samantha added. Evelyn continued to eat her toast, spinning her hand in a circle, a motioned that her friends knew she made to tell them that she was listening. “Theories?” Sebastian questioned “Mmm. We’ve been trying to figure out who did it. Or at least, what the G means” Amit responded helpfully. “Could be G for Gaunt” Samantha suggested, earning a gasp from Sebastian. Ominis looked mortified at her suggestion. “No, I doubt that. What would the chances of that be?” Evelyn  “I wouldn’t put it past them” Ominis hummed. “Though, I would never forgive myself if it were”  “It’s not Ominis. Plus, why would you be involved? That’s silly. You don’t have to worry” “How do you know?” He demanded, a frown gracing his face.  “I just do, okay?” Evelyn confirmed. “But it’s never really clear in those…letters” Samantha stared, pumping her eyebrows up and down. “Mmm.” Evelyn frowned. "What letters?” Ominis and Sebastian questioned in harmony. “It’s fine. It’s just someone who knows my Father.” Evelyn tried to brush off their concern when Amit began his own suggestion. “Perhaps G stands for a first name? What if it was GARRETH” Amit gasped, trying to break the tension that had built at the mention of letters. Garreth suddenly looked up from his table across the room with a questionable expression. He wasn’t sure who had shouted his name and it showed on his continued frustration as he scanned the hall, trying to find who might have called to him. “Hah! He couldn’t hurt a billywig!” Evelyn chuckled, reminiscing about a failed potions experiment where he had apologised over and over again for staining her robe.  “Why would someone who knows your father be writing to you?” Sebastian smoothly pulled the conversation back to the previous topic.  “Oh, just. Family matters.” Evelyn took a sip from a goblet quickly. “You’re a terrible liar” Sebastian muttered with a smile. “I think it’s an admirer” Samantha interjected, a smile on her face which stripped Sebastian of his own.  “An admirer, who would brand his name on his prospective love’s arm? Sounds like a Gaunt to me” Ominis pursed his lips, setting his teacup down. “G could be Goblins. Remember, they wanted your magic” Amit continued to think of potentials that could fit who G was. He rather enjoyed trying to solve this puzzle.

“AMIT” Evelyn hissed “Not everyone knows that. Not so loud!”  “Ah, sorry.” He blushed from the scolding. Sebastian picked up her hand and turned her arm over, scrutinising the mark closely. A tingle of pain shot down her arm, causing her to involuntarily scratch at the mark again. “Are you sure it doesn’t hurt?” He repeated his question from earlier. “It’s pinker than I remember. Now it looks like a fresh scar, look at the inflammation here” his fingers trailed around the lettering, where the mark had grown increasingly angry and red. “I guess it tingles a bit sometimes. I must have made it red from scratching at it though” she shrugged, giving it another scratch and batting Sebastian’s fingers away. He furrowed his brows, making a mental note to review some of the books he had read from the restricted section. Something sounded familiar to him, but he couldn’t pinpoint what. 

****

      Later that evening, on top of the Ravenclaw tower, three students gossiped under the starlight of the night sky. They sat huddled in a small circle, wrapped up in blankets, drinking hot chocolate.  “I know he’s handsome, smart and funny. I just feel like we were missing that spark, you know?” Samantha shrugged. “Perhaps that will come with time? Why not hang out with him a little more after class before your next date?” Evelyn suggested. “You could work together on a potion. We all know that Garreth loves to create new concoctions. Why not try and help him perfect one with that Ravenclaw wit of yours” Amit beamed. “I could. Thanks you two, those are both great ideas! We can’t all have natural chemistry like Evelyn and her Slytherins” She nudged Evelyn’s foot with her own from under her blanket. “Oh please, they just friends. Like you two” Evelyn smiled, looking down to the hot chocolate she had nestled between the blanket and her hands. “Like us? Umm, Evelyn, I don’t think…” Amit squinted at her, he tried his best to formulate the words that would explain how Ominis and Sebastian looked at her but was thankful when he found himself interrupted by Samantha. “You know they both like you” She laughed.  “Well I would be shocked if they didn’t like me. We are good friends” Evelyn laughed. “No, not like a friend. Gosh, for a Ravenclaw you can be such a dummy sometimes.” Samantha shook her head. Evelyn tilted her head. “Even Amit can see it. And we all know he’s booksmart, not people smart.” “Hey!” Amit protested “So, you’ve noticed Natsai trying to get your attention?” Samantha asked “Natty? Wait, are you telling me that….” Amit stammered “Point proven. It hurts sometimes, being the only Ravenclaw with a brain” She lifted the back of her hand to her forehead, pretending to faint.  “They do not! I doubt they even remember that I’m a girl sometimes” She chuckled to herself. “They’re so protective of you, I don’t know how you’ve not picked up on it. Need we remind you how they acted when they had to bring you to the infirmary last time?” She shook her head.

“Hypothetically then, if you had to chose one…” Amit tilted his head, a smirk playing on his lips. “AMIT!” Evelyn gasped while Samantha laughed at her friend’s bashfulness.  “So, what. You don’t like them like that?” He asked, curiosity driving his questions. “Now, now. I didn’t say that.” Evelyn grumbled.  “So, who would you choose?” Samantha repeated with a grin, “How would you choose if you had Garreth and Leander knocking at your door?” Evelyn retorted. “Oh, that’s easy. Garreth.” Amit clapped, watching Evelyn and Samantha suddenly look at him in shock. “Ladies, please. That’s not a comparison you can make on any level.” He motioned one hand up high for ‘Garreth’ and motioned another near his feet for ‘Leander’. The two girls cackled at his admission. “I agree. Garreth is the only choice there. Nice try Evelyn. Also, what happened to our sweet, shy friend, Amit? You used to be so bashful.” Samantha chuckled. “Not around my best friends” He smiled and elbowed Evelyn. “Now, who would you choose Evelyn? And don’t dodge the question this time!” Evelyn looked down to her empty cup and sighed. She lifted her mug up and shook it, indicating it’s emptiness. “Time for bed, don’t you think?” Evelyn hesitated. “Evelyn…” Samantha warned. “Perhaps she needs some time to think” Amit grinned. Evelyn rolled her eyes and folded her blanket over her arm. She looked pointedly to Amit “Perhaps. Perhaps not.” She shrugged, but her furrowed eyebrows told them that her thoughts were fighting the question they had posed to her. “We’ll pick this up another day” Samantha chuckled. “It looks like your brain is about to catch fire” “Get some rest ladies, I’ll see you in the morning”. Amit bowed, his blanket and mug clasped neatly in his hands as he strolled to his dorm.  “At least we figured out what to do with you and Garreth.” Evelyn smiled, as she followed Samantha back to their dorm. “Why must men be so difficult?” Samantha pondered as she got ready for bed. “Now, that is a question I am sure a hundred Ravenclaws would struggle to answer.” Evelyn laughed as she climbed into bed, her mind still reeling from the thoughts of who she would choose if she ever had the chance to be with one of her Slytherin boys. The two girls continued to laugh until they eventually fell asleep.

#ravenclawella writes #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow x mc #ominis gaunt x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #Ominis gaunt x reader #sebastian x ominis x mc #sebastian sallow x Ominis Gaunt x MC #ao3 author #AO3 stuff #fanfiction #Sebastian sallow fanfiction #Ominis Gaunt fanfiction #Sebastian x mc x ominis

[luminescentlyricist]

🎪 Bird’s Call - Identity V ✒️

There were shoes, clicking slowly yet distinctly against the tiles. The young man that they held aloft was wandering without a goal in mind, though that was only because of his preoccupation. Looking upwards and through one of the Manor's windows when carpet cushioned the sounds, Mike let out a sigh. He wasn't prepared for the days that stretched ahead. Such dejectedness hadn't come to him for some time, but it felt like it was going to drown him. Even thinking about the man he'd once held dear was making his head whirl. As much as he would've liked to return to his room and bury his face in the pillows, he'd promised his former troupe members that he'd always continue forwards. Refusal to do so would be an insult to their memories.

This, more often than not, led to his being awake during the later hours, and it wasn’t just because he had trouble falling asleep. As a performer, he had given himself many ways to quickly get rest, even if the resultant naps made him feel more rotten than before. Bernard had instilled in him a faith that hadn’t wavered, a need to do his best, so sacrificing a few hours to a visit wasn’t a big deal. Letters from the Acrobat were characterised by long rambles, paths of sentences calling back to performances already long forgotten by the recipient, because he wished for each encounter to be a memorable one. It was a shame they took so long to complete, for his handiwork needed to be legible.

As he passed the kitchen in his aimless wander, his chest tightened despite his internal protest and logic; the smell of smoke was pungent as ever, though it was only an accident with food and no disaster. From the nape of his neck to his tailbone, the acrobat focused on the tingling feeling of a shiver to take his mind off the tragedy that lingered ever-present. Pulling at the ruff around his neck had become habit. Even though his breaths were no longer shallow gasps, he'd almost forgotten how deeply his lungs would let him inhale. Remembrance… he had no time for it, if he were to honour those he'd left. Those that remained, and those he'd walked away from. Mike slowly bought a hand up to pinch his nostrils closed, lowering his head as a defence against the smell.

His feet carried him, still, even though he didn’t quite know where he was going. He walked out to the gardens visible in front of the Manor, sitting cross-legged atop one of the white benches and unintentionally taking up more space with his long legs. It was late enough that he doubted anyone would join him, which filled him with a sense of long-awaited peace. Relief. Eyes sweeping the area, the man finally let himself go - he untucked his curls from the hat that so often held them, fingers curling around the brown fabric so loosely that it might’ve fallen. To anyone else, to him in another night, this would mean nothing. But his muscles ached with their burdens, and it signified a small victory of sorts.

Reaching into the pinched and pinned-back portion of his hat, he drew out a small note, unfolding it with the utmost care he could provide. It had been pinned down there, in a little pouch, as were commonly found dotting the insides of the innovative Acrobat’s everyday wear. Always hidden from view. This note was something very important to him, but he refused to show even Margie what was written. She remained his dearest friend in the troupe’s Manor populace. Before he could read it properly, however, the noise of wings alerted him: a raven, black against the nearly starless sky, gazing down at him with beady eyes. He suspected the smell of food had followed him out from the kitchens, and it sought something from him.

“I have nothing left out here for you, you know.”

Mike remarked, the smallest of smiles curling the edges of his mouth as he replaced the note and put his hat back on. He hadn’t expected such an encounter, let alone at an unusual time. He watched as the bird tilted its head, as if to enquire ‘why not’, then flew up to a higher branch in the tree overhanging the bench. It continued to watch him, but he couldn’t satisfy whatever it was they wanted. Instead, this only left the acrobat feeling undeniably unsettled, with no true way to get the point across without sacrificing his peace - away from humans, that was - and returning to the Manor to get much-needed rest. His mind was soon occupied by the raven’s antics, as he found a sense of strange familiarity in that stubbornness.

“Certainly nothing seedy and aptly delicious. Shouldn’t you be with your roost-mates? It’s late.”

Of course he knew that the raven didn’t have any understanding of his words, but thought it rude to leave them without an explanation regardless. Despite how there weren’t many stars, the lamps flickering to bathe the gardens in a soft light were enough to avoid Mike straining his eyes. From one of the pouches on his belt, he pulled out a bottle of water, deciding to drink from it first and then hold up the filled cap to the raven, who simply stared at it for a good ten seconds. This was enough for Mike’s cheeks to colour in embarrassment, so he tipped it out onto the grass and replaced it before wandering over to a decorative stone basin that the Baron had commissioned from the Sculptor - Miss Galatea, whose self-reservation did little to stop the unease Mike felt even bringing her leering face to mind - some time earlier but never used. Now seemed as good a time as any, even though he couldn’t provide exactly what he assumed his new companion wanted.

So he emptied the rest of the bottle into the basin, heedless of how hot it’d been getting for him. He could remember to refill it any day. After a moment more, the raven came to perch on the edge of the basin and dipped its beak into the cool water. Mike was pleased, but he still took a few cautious steps backward so they wouldn’t see him as an invader. When he turned away, there came a squawking - the raven was indignant, almost, to hold his attention. The acrobat didn’t immediately turn on his heel, no, but instead pulled on the thick gloves hanging at his waist-belt (usually situated in his cabinet, he’d strung them there with little regard in a sleepless stupor that morning) and held his arm out to the bird, twisting his body appropriately.

Ruffling its feathers as if to puff out its chest in pride, the bird took the opportunity to use Mike’s arm as a perch. The young man stiffened in caution and alarm both as it landed so close, breath hitching. Muscle by muscle, he allowed himself to relax, mis-matched eyes meeting the small bird’s for a second or two. He needed to keep it occupied so nobody else would be disturbed by the racket its call produced, however futile. Tentatively, he reached a gloved hand over to run his fingers through the raven’s head feathers, almost as if giving it a pat, and it responded by leaning into the hold, a gurgling sort of quieter vocalisation eventually coming from its throat. Of all the thrilling things Mike had done, getting so close to a bird usually heralded as a vicious and dark omen wasn’t on his list. It didn’t seem to want to harm him, at least, and he was grateful for that.

The moment, perfect in its stillness, didn’t last. A familiar yet unwanted presence had arrived. The raven flew up to its tree once again, making its silent protest known. The acrobat sighed, unwilling to acknowledge what’d been shaken for a second longer. His eyes slipped closed, if only to preserve the waning peace of the situation, mind and focus lingering on the vague sensations left in his hands from the raven’s feathers. Until it was shattered, at last, by a crowing of another type - that man’s voice, grating on his ears like nothing else could. The tone wasn’t so bad in reality, but Mike personally couldn’t stand it. The obnoxiousness oozing from each syllable seemed nearly palpable to his sensitive ears.

The only thing Mike could think to do to stave off the novelist was to cut him off, and he did so with little regard to any possible greeting paid before. It wasn’t like him to be as careless as he appeared to Orpheus, but he knew well enough how long the conversation would drag on otherwise. He was too tired to deal with it, as the soothing of the raven’s visit had left him without the energy he naturally carried. The bird was more of a friend to him than someone of the Baron’s standing could ever be, though he didn’t speak it around anyone to avoid backlash. Sure, he could whine to his cousin or Margie, but the time ticked on. It would have been discourteous, he felt, even though both Survivors had assured him they’d be there if he needed them regardless of how early or late it was.

“Mister De Ross, I’d thank you to leave before I throw something fire-lit in your general direction.”

Mike hoped sincerely that his threat would be heeded. Orpheus was his own man, however, and would do nothing of the sort. Instead, he moved toward the acrobat even further, craning his neck to look at the raven in his own right. The bird stayed away from him, gaze nearly unblinking, and it appeared not to want to come back down for the disturbance. His smile was soft, serene, but held some air of superiority - he knew well that the acrobat wouldn’t be able to do anything to truly stop him, not while he was in the Manor’s grounds. Placing a hand over his chest, he continued to mock further, taking a slower step forth.

“How you wound me, Mike. I was simply coming to check on you. I’ve taken to doing the rounds, though Miss Dyer tells me I may stretch myself too thin checking on each of you.”

Who else he was talking about was left unspoken, but the acrobat knew better than to ask the novelist for confirmation. It would only make matters worse, indulging the Baron like that. He’d talk for hours, and Mike couldn’t hold attention for that long unless it actually concerned him. His gaze trailed up to the bird on the tree-branch, taking comfort in its presence. It was almost guarding him. Orpheus continued to talk to him, but his thoughts were elsewhere, distant as the raven. He wasn’t intending to ignore, really, but his captivation with the simple scene soothed him more than being almost interrogated by his visitor.

Said visitor became irritated, the patient curving of his mouth falling away, and he did the only thing he could think of - as if commanding the staff of the Manor, he clapped his hands twice sharply.

Mike’s breath caught in his throat, and he seized in fear.

Of course, somewhere in the back of his mind, Mike knew that Orpheus meant no harm. But the noise was so distinct, so painfully familiar, that his logic had abandoned him. His eyes were wide, startled, and it was all he could do to sit back before he fell, gaze redirecting to the man of the manor naturally. Just because he no longer craned his neck enough to see the raven. His palms scraped against the worn concrete of the path, but the pain barely registered for the aching of his heart. The last time he’d had such a thing happen, had a command be given in tandem… no. He wasn’t going to think about it.

Soon pulling distractedly on the cuffs of his ruffled sleeves, Mike’s movements were little more than twitches. He’d tuned Orpheus out, entirely oblivious to the concern of the Baron upon seeing the frightened display. Though his heartbeat pounded in his ears, he barely felt the rise and fall of his chest. Lightheadedness caused his eyelids to droop, though he knew he couldn’t stay like that forever - a futile attempt to stand left him on a course to the ground, yet more senseless tears blurring his vision and logic both.

“Mister Morton, I’d advise you return to your quarters. You’re not well.”

The voice came from a direction the acrobat couldn’t process, and he closed his eyes, bringing shuddering arms upwards if only to grind the heels of his hands into them. He didn’t like showing weakness, much less around someone of higher standing. He never had, really. He continued this movement until he felt a soft grip take his wrists, pulling them away from his face. The force caused him to tense, shivering in resistance. Though he didn’t open his eyes, he could tell that it was Orpheus - the callouses atop each of the novelist’s fingers told him everything he needed to know, sensitive as he was to the small things when overwhelmed. When he tried to formulate a reply, nothing came from his mouth.

He disliked feeling so pathetic, but the sound of the clapping still rung in his ears.

It should have only taken a moment for him to recover. That was what was expected of him, after all - being at another’s beck and call, especially for matters of entertainment. Always maintaining a smile, even when it was a struggle to bring one to his lips. He had to respect Orpheus, as his new source of… haphazard companionship, he thought, but the shaking of his body and mind both were doing terrible things. He couldn’t do it, and that stressed him out more than he was able to articulate. It was akin to a mask breaking, and the curtains opening on the backstage proceedings. He couldn’t afford to let it happen, but there was no strength left in him to pull everything together again.

Bernard had done that to and for him. Given him simple cues and commands, a list to follow, and they were once helpful. But he was no longer a child who needed to be shepherded around, and retrieving his easily diminishing sense of pride and growth had taken him a longer time than he cared to admit. Joker mocked him more than enough for his liking, and did him no favours. These cues were turned into weapons, even though the acrobat was the only one who thought of them as such. They were just another reminder of his lack of control, no matter how finely crafted his defences were.

Mike simply twisted his body, wrenching his hands from the Novelist’s well-meaning hold.

“Leave me be, Mister De Ross. Of course I’m not well, and It’s because of you. Just go. Please. I cannot cope with you right now. You should know better than to treat me that way.”

The acrobat’s voice was uncharacteristically cold, flattening almost into indifference but holding an obvious edge of irritation. He wasn’t feeling right, not at all, and the presence of someone he’d only consider a friend at the best of times was draining him of energy. He took his hat off, rubbing his hands across his ears in a vain attempt to rid them of the sound lingering. Of course Orpheus didn’t care to know the reason why the clapping had startled him so, and Mike didn’t expect it. It was a petty thing, and would have seemed ridiculous to anyone who hadn’t been through it.

This sort of loneliness was something he wouldn’t care to explain, but only one person in the Manor would have responded in the right way regardless. Curling his hands into fists to protect his palms, he leaned back onto them with heaving breath. Tears continued to run down his cheeks, but he didn’t move to wipe them away. Despite being unable to properly let it out, for fear of losing his composure around his superior in its entirety, Mike felt the relief sweeping through him as he allowed himself to cry. He was too tired to resist, even if he wanted to. It was something entirely foreign: the lack of performance in the display of vulnerability.

Orpheus was taken aback, to say the least, to see Mike crying, but he didn’t have the means to comfort the younger man. So he left, as was asked of him, and didn’t think to look backwards. However nagging his discontent with the issue, he knew that it’d all just make things worse if he tried to push forward with something likely to devolve into an argument. He, too, was tired, and he wasn’t looking forward to a sore back from falling asleep at his desk again should his journey take too long. He had writing milestones to meet before indulging himself with rest like that.

It was in this way that the acrobat found himself once more alone, sitting down on the path to the gardens with the sun threatening to set behind him. He didn’t care to sit back up on the bench, as nobody would think to go outside at that time. Much less to the gardens themselves, which were a subject of avoidance for any wary manor resident - save for the Baron’s closest, and the maintenance workers - due to an accident prior. This was yet another mystery surrounding the novelist, but he hadn’t had the time nor the actual courage to pry for answers. With a short and exasperated sigh, Mike kicked one leg up to steady his other foot on the ground, leaning against it with the majority of his tired weight in order to straighten and stand.

It was time to visit a friend.

Sparing a glance up to the sky, he wondered where the raven had flown off to. As disappointing as it was to find he’d lost that company, the acrobat knew such a thing wouldn’t have lasted. Idealism did him no favours. Grounding himself in the moment with the familiarity of his customised shoes would have been easy otherwise, but his heartbeat pulsed in his ears and drowned out all other noise. The plates he’d added to most if not all of the soles were reminiscent of proper tap shoes, and allowed him to keep the lively spirit of performance around. Sure, the modification was met with significant complaint, but he’d allowed himself a moment of relief and ignored it. They made him feel better, and the manor’s residents either learned to put up with it or reach that understanding themselves. Mischief didn’t equal the discomfort of others to Mike. That was different.

Soon enough after walking in a detached haze, the acrobat found his place, slipping out of his shoes and placing them at the front of the grounds (simply outside the entrance) before stepping through.

That morning, Orpheus had tasked himself with checking back up on Mike. Despite not having any understanding of what had caused the acrobat to lash out at him, he’d boiled it down to the night’s irritability, and had no real intent to stir enmity between anyone. There was a time and a place for that, and it was beyond the position of the Baron De Ross. Unbecoming of a nobleman, unexpected of a novelist, and thus out of place in his goals. First, he checked around the young man’s tent - a simple structure, donned with white and red striped cloth in its stereotypical fashion, serving as his retreat beyond the confines of the Manor despite being put up right beside it. That was where Mike spent most of his time, despite looking rather barren. A desk, a bed, a cabinet and a few piles of miscellaneous belongings, stacked with unprecedented care. That was all he needed.

Not meaning to intrude, he backed away from the tent and allowed the fabric to flutter behind him, closing the entranceway from view when it settled. He wondered why the acrobat hadn’t asked him about increasing the security, but hadn’t cared to look for enough. There was a panel that served as a doorway, and Mike held the key, but he hadn’t returned to his tent and set everything back in place.

Instead, he continued to the next place he thought Mike would be: around where his cousin’s boar was often kept with some of the other animals. Occasionally, Wick the post-dog would greet anyone there, but Victor had told him he preferred to keep them close. The Postman's companion, therefore, was likely still curled at the end of the boy's bed, sleeping soundly. Stranger still was the entire absence of the boar. It was commonly content to be there, snuffling away, tail flicking until Murro needed to take care of it again. The two were as inseparable as ever, but their bond remained rivalled by another.

That gave him the last idea. The woodlands beyond the Manor where the Gamekeeper prowled were often home to more wild boars. Contrary to the beliefs of some on the grounds, what was whispered between guest and servant alike, Bane didn’t intend to harm unless threat was bought to the animals under his care. So long as one kept in the many beasts’ good graces, he’d turn a blind eye to those entering and exiting his ‘territory’. Bane considered their opinions more than his own. He was one of the more unfortunate Hunters, twisted by circumstance and tragedy, but outside the game he was circumstantially gentler.

Orpheus took a deep breath, gathering his coat and heading out to the woods. Luckily for him, as he walked further into the various connected thickets and copses, there was no sign of Bane about. No further complications. The animals weren’t hostile, per se, but enough of them were large and frightening to those as unadjusted as he was. There were a few survivors who liked the forest, fewer still who may have preferred it to the Manor’s shelter, but the narrowing of options was exactly what he needed. So he walked further in, even though the trees’ canopy thickened and begun to block out the light. He took a pause to pull on his coat, fumbling with the buttons as his hands shook with the sudden cold of the shade.

A bird’s crowing cut through the oppressive silence as Orpheus walked, but he couldn’t see where it was coming from. They didn’t often come to the Manor, let alone straying to the darker parts of the trees. He followed where the sunlight struck, trying to keep himself as safe as possible. It wasn’t as if he were a frightened child, unwilling to go into the darkness; getting lost running around the unfamiliar parts of the Manor’s boundaries was just going to be more of a hassle if he had to help Mike get out as well. So he thought. Thanks to someone else’s careful guidance, the acrobat knew the woodlands better than Orpheus himself.

Turning a corner, he was lead to the entrance of a large clearing. Here, there sat a sight he’d never seen before, but was pleased to witness nonetheless. Mike and Murro were both asleep, side by side in the clearing, supported by the large boar’s soft body that it seemed perfectly content to let them lean against. It was simply something lovely, something peaceful, an occurrence seldom given within the Manor’s walls. The raven, the past night’s guardian, sat atop a tree-branch nearby, fluffing up its feathers as its own ward from the cold. It was only when Orpheus was leaving, unwilling to disturb the cousins in their moments of relief, that he knew what he was truly seeing.

A memory of the past, framed in waning sunlight.

#luminescent lyricist writes #🗺️ around the universe 🗺️ #identity v #idv #idv novelist #idv orpheus #idv acrobat #idv mike #this isnt mikepheus #these are just main character tags

[nibordereht]

I wanna put a smile on your face

Summary:

Bernard Dowd has waited all his life for the moment when he can reach his beloved J.J. and join him in his kingdom of madness. Luckily, he doesn't need to wait anymore.

Or, Bernard's rise as Harley Quinn's successor alongside the current Joker.

I wanna put a smile on your face (Tim Drake x Bernard Dowd) by anyrobin in AO3

Raucous laughter erupted uncontrollably from Bernard's chest, shaking his entire body. The more he laughed, the more hysterical he became for not being able to stop. However, his eyes -wide as saucers and bloodshot- reflected pure satisfaction. Finally, after long hours and hours of waiting connected to various devices that gave him electric shocks and made his lips widen sideways, he had managed to capture on his face a grimace as magnificent as the one his beloved wore on his. The wait was over and a smile was forced upon him, parting his face with misunderstood madness and highlighting the white of his teeth with the reddish, slimy edges he had just outlined on top of the white cream with which he smeared his face. He tried to hum Mary had a little lamb as he drew a black heart over each cheek as a symbol of the love that guided him, but the melody broke into laughter at every turn. Finally, he highlighted his eyes with shades of red and black, matching his clothes, in honor of the old days when he had fallen in love with his beloved pumpkin.

"Babbler," they called in a sing-songy voice from outside the dressing room, like the wolf asking the children if they were ready to come out and play, "are you ready for the show?" 

"Yes, pumpkin, I'm coming! haha!"

Bernard rubbed his lips together and blew a kiss to the mirror before the maniacal grin took the place above his chin again. Then, he played with his fluffy hair and picked up his long two-sided mallet before heading over to where the second Joker was calling him, knowing better than to make him impatient.

He opened the door and Joker Jr, the former Robin he had fallen in love with in his civilian days, was waiting for him with one hand behind his back and another offering to help him down the steps of the RV they had stolen for the occasion. In front of them, several people bound between them stared at them in horror, their faces stained in tears and visible limbs quivering like jelly. 

"You look fantastic, Bernie," Tim murmured as he helped him down. Bernard gloated internally, for his boyfriend only called him that when he was in a good mood.  It would make him happier once he took care of the little mission his partner had brought him. 

"Thanks, pumpkin," he sighed. "Now let's see, who will play with this babbler today?"

ੈ✩‧₊˚

J.J.'s smile, as never before, wavered.

As much as Bernard loved that permanent smile on his face, he had to admit he was a little proud to be the only one who had the ability to make it falter. 

It was all a great coincidence. He, an admirer of the great criminal Harley Quinn's once great passion for the last Joker; follower of all the conspiracy theories of Gotham City's underworld and the heroes who dealt with them; in love with the third Robin and the one who had once been under the mask since, like, forever... He, of all people, had been kidnapped by the current Joker, or Junior... By Tim Drake.

He wasn't surprised he'd fed up with Gotham's heir to crime, after all, he wasn't able to quiet his excitement at finally having an encounter with, he assumed, the crush of his youth. And he assumed because his theory that Tim Drake, former Robin (it had concluded many, many years ago), was the Joker Jr. was due to a bunch of internet rumors and street speculation he'd tied up on his own until he'd convinced himself of it.

"This. Is. Exciting," he squeaked under his breath. It didn't go unnoticed by J.J., however, whose eye twitched for the third time, already beginning to realize that he wouldn't get a ransom for Bernard. He probably considered him unbearable, he didn't blame him. But it was just that he felt like he was in one of his most twisted dreams. "Will you explain to me what your plan is? Are you going to strap me on dangerous chemicals? Joker gas? Oh, you're going to broadcast on television?" He wasn't ready to go on TV, but he would be happy to continue spending time with the love of his life. He wanted to see how much he had changed.

An incredulous laugh went through Junior.

"Wow wow, you're quite a babbler, don't you ever shut up? What are you babbling about?" he laughed harder, regaining his mad composure. "You're quite the babbler. I want to squash you like a bubble."

Bernard swallowed a comment regarding Junior's joke. That certainly wasn't his forte. Instead, he opted for another relationship that lambasted him with force.

"Babbler, like the bird... We'd be two birds, a pair of little turtledoves!" offered Bernard, too focused on his romantic projection to catch Tim's wince at the bird comparison.

"Ha... Haha... Hahaha... Hahahaha... Hahahahaha!" he began to laugh hysterically. Bernard was undeterred. "Oh, we'd better shut you up soon, hadn't we, babbler? Let's make that smile disappear for a while..."

ੈ✩‧₊˚

Joker Junior had a thing for scaring the successors of Batman and company. Bernard could understand the reason and therefore empathize with the cause quickly, knowing what he had to do when fighting the old and new members of his pumpkin's former family.

"Yuujujuu, little bats, over here! Come play with Babbler," Bernard called, shaking his free hand and laughing. He began twirling his mallet and running up to the man in the black suit and blue bird on his chest. He shook the weapon playfully until he hit him excitedly on the back and then acted as if it had been an accident. "Whoops. Hahahahaha."

His mission was to take care of the hostages, keep the sidekicks away while Joker Jr. took care of the big leaguers, the big bat, all in black and red bat on his chest, and his current robin, too much like Tim's style in his Robin days. Tacky, if you asked Bernard. Anyone underneath the mask was a disgusting pretender. No one would ever measure up to his beloved, no matter which of his legacies it was. He was the best robin, the best joker and the best human being that had ever lived. No one would ever be able to catch up to him and Bernard would be by his side every step of the way, even if it led nowhere. If Timothy wanted to amuse himself in an eternal sick chase between him and his old family, Bernard would accompany him. 

Till death do them part and after that.

"Baaabler?" shouted Joker, up on top of some rafters and threatening to cut the ropes of a guy tied up on top of an acid pit. Classic. "Are you here, honey?"

"I'm coming, pumpkin!" he replied, dodging a kick from his opponent and punching him in the face. 

However, as soon as he wanted to dodge another punch, he was pierced by a burst of pain in his bare arm after feeling a loud gun noise. 

Shit, none of them had noticed that a red hooded man had joined in the fun and now Bernard had a bullet stuck in his arm.

"Ha ha, that's what was missing!" he laughed gritting his teeth. He switched the mallet in his hand and stumblingly tried to hit the hooded man while taking hits from the bluebird. "Damn bats, always in cologne. They need to get independent," he gasped.

"Look who's talking, always glued to that crazy man's hip," the hooded one spat, missing a shot as Bernard swung hard to avoid him. "You can't talk..." he took a blow from Babbler's mallet on the knee, "...about independence. Uh. You're gonna pay for that one."

And he did, as another bullet landed in his thigh.

"Bernie!" he heard the Joker yell as he tackled the big bat, leaving a gap for it to hit him.

No names on the field, Bernard wanted to say, but black dots began to cloud his vision.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

"I'm so, so glad you let me help you, Tim," Bernard said. The kidnapping had been a failure and Tim had agreed to give him a chance at his side. Because he remembered, Bernard repeated to himself excitedly. 

Tim stiffened, however, and whipped his cane against the floor before knocking over everything on a table in the corner of the giggle house they were hiding in. 

"No names on...," he mumbled. Then he cleared his throat and grinned like a maniac again. "Who's that? I think you're talking about the dead ones, Babbler. I don't like that. And you don't want something I don't like," he threatened. 

But Bernard actually agreed. He wanted to do nothing more than pleasing his beloved. And it made him shudder that Joker Jr. had a nickname for him so soon, regardless of whatever connotation that one had. 

"Sorry... ehm, Junior."

Junior started laughing uproariously and kicked a chair next to where Bernard was sitting like a dutiful auditor.

"Junior? Ha! Why would it be Junior when there's no one to confuse me with anymore."

For a second, some courage struck Bernard and he decided that maybe making his true intentions clear next to the Joker would help him. Then he said:

"And what about...honey...", he stood up and slowly approached Tim. As the latter did nothing to push him away or move away, nor did he move a muscle, he had the audacity to curl his arms behind the other boy's neck. "O puddin', my honey, my beloved...sweetie, pumpkin." He brought his face close to the other until their noses were about to touch, his breathing erratic and his heart pounding.  Joker Junior began to laugh, very loudly, without pushing him away. Then he grabbed him around the waist and smiled creepily at him, but with his eyes narrowed in something Bernard wanted to believe might amount to affection.

"Well, why not, I guess everyone needs a sidekick... or something."

ੈ✩‧₊˚

Joker Jr. had a large bruise expanding on the side of his right eye and blood trickling down his lower lip. His wrist was beginning to swell where he had probably gotten a sprain after jumping from the rafters to grab Bernard and flee the crime scene until he managed to completely miss the bat colony. 

"I'm...," Bernard coughed and spit out some blood he accumulated at some point during the fight, "I'm fine, pumpkin. You don't have to worry about me. You can finish the job, haha." 

The Joker ran his sore hand in exasperation through his hair, and shook his head, jaded. 

"Shut up. Just, shut up, Bernard. I know the best thing you do is talk... a lot," he laughed, more raucously than he intended and couldn't stop for a few long seconds. "Tch, just, shush. Let me bandage this up. You'll be fine, honey."

He'd actually lost a lot of blood while they'd escaped, it wasn't fine, but he liked to believe in Tim.

"Okay... It's okay. I'm fine. We're fine, pumpkin," he murmured with a chuckle. From where he lay and Junior fiddled with bandages on his arm, Bernard raised his free hand and swatted Tim's bruised cheek. "It's going to be okay, so put a smile on that face. Take that grimace off, haha." 

With his bloody finger, Bernard forced Tim to raise one side of his mouth and elicited a blood-painted scary half-smile. He was so cute.

"Haha."

Tim smiled fully just as Bern's hand fell against his will and his vision went completely dark.

"I'll, ah... See you later, pumpkin. Smile."

ੈ✩‧₊˚

When the electric shock therapy was over, Joker Junior dressed in his best purple suit and made sure his greenish-black hair was as decent as it could be. He fixed his unique clown makeup and with thumbs smudged in red paint stretched a big grin toward his ears, putting more pressure than necessary on his cheeks. 

Bernard, who couldn't stop laughing to the point of tears, but was pleased with it, finished painting hearts on his cheeks and walked to the outstretched hand waiting for him to walk to the bound hostage waiting for them to read their vows.

It was a modest ceremony, just the two of them and the priest on top of abandoned containers near the harbor in Marina. They walked hand in hand to the bound priest and let him read the usual Catholic wedding paragraphs, asking him to add and emphasize the wrongness of gay marriage just to annoy him more. Junior pointed his gun at him, the one that had killed his predecessor, and looked at him with malice as the ceremony went on, only changing his expression when his eyes met Bernard's excited ones. 

Finally, Bernard said after Tim:

"I take you from this day forward until death do us apart."

And Tim replied:

"And after that, honey."

"And after that," Bernard repeated with a chuckle, putting a smile on his Joker's face.

♡

#ao3 #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #batman #red robin #tim drake #dc robin #pride #one shot #robin #dc #stray #multiverse #bernard dowd #timber #tim drake x bernard dowd #timbern #bisexual tim drake #joker junior #bernard dowd is babbler #harley!bernard #bernard is harley quinn successor

[joeyloganho]

Comfort

Pairing- Jack Frost/Victor

Genre- SLIGHT angst/mostly fluff

A/N: HI HI So i wrote this a few days ago and never posted it. Currently have a few Ed Grimley fics working right now but i wanted to post about my Frosty boy. This was based on the line "Your beauty never, ever scared me" from Mary on a Cross by Ghost. OK TO RB, but pr*shippers fuck off

~

Jack Frost was a man full of confidence. He practically worshiped himself, and his ego did not waver easily. But sometimes, even the strongest of people, or in this case, the strongest of Legendary Figures, faltered. All Jack wanted was Christmas. It was a simple request. All Scott had to do was just…hand it over. But he was making things very difficult. Jack was getting tired of trying, though he knew he couldn’t give up. 

The only reason that he wanted Christmas in the first place was for his love, Victor. He wanted to prove that Christmas wasn’t a bad time, that despite so many tragedies happening around that time of year for Vic, that it was still a magical time. He just wanted Victor to be happy. He wanted nothing else in the world than that, and that meant, getting Christmas. 

But after arguing with the elves, fighting with Scott, trying to trick everyone, blah blah…it seemed that nothing was going to work in his favor. Their favor. Yes, It was true that Victor wasn’t exactly aware of this whole thing. Or well, he was, but just faintly. He knew that Jack had a surprise for him, and was working on it. He didn’t quite know what it was though. He could’ve never imagined that Jack was trying to get Christmas to prove to him that it was alright after all. Sure he knew Jack’s feelings on the holiday, and how he wanted control of it, but he didn’t really think he’d do anything about it. 

And technically, he hadn’t done a thing about it. Which he kept reminding himself of as he paced in his and Victor’s shared room at the North Pole. He ran his fingers through his frosty hair, thinking out loud in a mumble. 

“What am i going to do? It’s going to be another year and Victor’s going to hate the holiday still…” He said to himself. “Why do I care about him? Why do i care about anyone? Why can’t my cold heart just let things go?” 

But he knew, deep down, that he loved Victor. He couldn’t be without him. From the moment he had met Victor, he knew that he had to be with him. He couldn’t stay away, showing up whenever he could to visit him, even in the summer. He knew he wouldn’t have invited Victor to live with him if he hadn’t loved him with his whole heart. And, most of all, he knew he wouldn’t be trying to steal Christmas just for him if he didn’t love him. 

“Jack?” Victor said as he peeked his head into their room. “Are you decent?” He asked with a grin. Jack turned to see Victor’s bespectacled face in the doorway, his short hair messy as always. He was still grinning as Jack turned to him. 

“Yes, I’m decent, my dear.” Jack said with a soft smile. “Is everything ok?” He asked, twiddling his thumbs. Victor let the door open a bit more as he leaned in the doorway, one eyebrow raised. 

“I think I should be asking you that, Mr. Frost.” He said to him. Jack scoffed, turning away from Victor. 

“Everything’s fine with me.” Jack said. He heard Victor’s footsteps growing closer to him, and soon he felt arms around his waist. The taller man kissed at Jack’s pointed ears, holding him gently. 

“Are you sure? Because I’ve been seeing you yelling at more elves than usual. And Santa seems upset with you. Don’t get me started on Bernard. I mentioned you around him and he said he was tired of you. What’s going on?” Victor asked. Jack sighed loudly, letting his shoulders fall.

“It’s nothing.” Jack said, feeling that he shouldn’t spoil the surprise. Victor turned him so they were face to face, and began planting kisses on his face and jaw. 

“You can talk to me. You know that, right?” Victor asked. Jack nodded. He planted kisses along his jawline until he reached his mouth, and pulled him in to kiss him on the lips. Jack’s hands rested on Victor’s waist as he leaned up to kiss him. No matter how long they had been together, Jack was always so touch starved and willing to be held. 

Victor was the first to pull away, but Jack pulled him right back in to kiss some more. “Wait…” Victor smiled. “Talk to me. We can kiss after, ok?” 

“I’d rather get to the kissing now.” Jack said, moving to Victor’s neck instead. 

“Jack.” Victor said sternly. Jack pulled away, looking anywhere but in Victor’s eyes. 

“I guess kissing you isn’t going to get me out of this, huh?” He asked. Victor shook his head.

“I want to make sure you’re ok. Now talk.” Vic said to him. Jack nodded. 

“Well…I’ve been working on that surprise for you…” He started. 

“Yeah, I remember. You said it might take a while.” Vic said. 

“Well. It’s really not going to plan. At all. Everyone’s being so…so…rude about it. They just won’t let it happen.” Jack said. “They’re really getting on my last nerve. They hate me here. Everyone here hates me.” 

“I don’t hate you.” Vic told him. 

“Well, of course not you. But everyone else. I’m too much for them. Too cold.” Jack sighed. Vic smiled at him. 

“I always loved how cold you were.” He told him. Jack glanced at Vic’s face. He was smiling softly at him, a look of love and understanding on his face. 

“Really?” Jack asked. 

“Your beauty never, ever scared me.” Victor said, wrapping his arms around Jack’s waist and hugging him tightly. “You’re the best thing that’s happened to me. I know it’s tough to know others don’t like you. And I know they don’t all like you very much. But I like you. And when Christmas is over, we’ll be back at our own home, and we’ll be happy. We won’t be here forever.” 

Jack sighed. The words lingered in his head. “We won’t be here forever…” He repeated. “Right…you’re right…I just wanted this surprise to help you through Christmas.” 

“I appreciate that, but you don’t need to do that, honey. You help me plenty as it is.” Victor told him with a smile. Jack nodded, unsure of what to say. Victor seemed to pick up on this. “Do you want me to grab us some hot cocoa and we can just hang out for a bit?” He asked. Jack, without a word, nodded, kissing Victor’s cheek before watching him walk out of the room to get their drinks. Maybe Victor was right. Maybe he didn’t need to get Christmas for him after all…

He shrugged and sat down on the bed. “Too bad I’m going to take Christmas anyway…” He grinned. 

#ok to rb #self shipping #self ship community #self ship #self ship fanfiction

[hiswordsarekisses]

LISTENING TO A DIFFERENT VIEWPOINT by Lynette Hughes:

“The moment we want to believe something, we suddenly see all the arguments for it, and become blind to the arguments against it.” ~ George Bernard Shaw

James 1:19: instructs us to “Let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger.” It’s simple enough in principle, and nearly impossible to do, because most of us erroneously believe being heard is more important than hearing. If we were honest, we would need to admit that most of us talk more than we need to and listen less than we need to.

Listening to a sharply opposing viewpoint is neither easy nor comfortable, especially if it has to do with something that is very personal to you or that you feel you have thoroughly examined and have nothing further to learn. Listening, however, is NOT about agreeing, it is about understanding the other person’s perspective. Listening requires selflessness, patience and humility and does not come naturally to most of us. Taking the time to listen and understand a person’s opposing argument, does not mean we must change our mind; however, it does mean admitting we may not know everything. 1 Corinthians 8:2 ESV warns us that “If anyone imagines that he knows something, he does not yet know as he ought to know.” These words were written by Paul, after 25 years as a believer. How much more this must be true of us!

What gets in the way of our listening and hearing is our spiritual and intellectual pride, our stubborn determination to be right. After all, before we adopted our theological or political position, we considered every possible opposing viewpoint, didn’t we? So now we think we comprehend the entire subject, don’t we? And somehow, we think that justifies us for being unwilling to listen to another’s dissenting argument that contradicts ours, don’t we?

My job as a teacher is to show people that they need to look at things from as many viewpoints as possible before they close their minds and come to a final conclusion on any particular subject matter. Listening to another point of view gives us an opportunity to reevaluate our beliefs, and to confront the weaknesses in our own understanding, but sadly, most of us take an opposing view personally, shut our ears, and open our mouth in protest; not to defend our beliefs, but to shut the other person down.

Please do not patronize someone you disagree with by sending them YouTube videos or google articles to counter arguments you reject if you are unwilling to view and read those that they send to you. This is a clear indication you do not want to have a biblically based, logical, well-reasoned discussion; you simply want to support your own argument and prove your own point of view.

Proverbs 18:2 ESV warns us that “A fool takes no pleasure in understanding, but only in expressing his opinion.” If we cannot defend our beliefs in a rational dialog without becoming defensive, all we have is an opinion. When we are unwilling to listen to a different point of view and use the excuse ‘I refuse to budge from what God’s word says,” we are most often doing so from pride. It is important to understand we do not need to protect God’s word by refusing to listen to another perspective with grace and humility; reasoning with Scripture in proper context can withstand any opposing opinion.

It is not a sin to disagree; actually, disagreements between believers are inevitable. We do not have to agree on everything, but we must disagree graciously with respect and not rancor. Do not misunderstand me, I’m not saying that we should sugar-coat God’s Word to make it more palatable or give in to every wind of doctrine. I’m not saying that we should in any way shrink from defending the core doctrines of the faith, or to allow those who speak falsely about Jesus or the gospel go unchallenged, I am not saying that we need to waver on core biblical truths. What I am trying to convey is that we must give secondary matters a bit more leeway. We must have a teachable spirit and be willing to learn, even alter our beliefs when necessary.

Matthew 7:12 tells us “.. in everything, do to others what you would have them do to us..” Consider how you feel when someone isn’t willing to listen to you. Is that how you want to be treated? NO….then do not treat others that way yourself! We can disagree and still respect others as brothers and sisters in Christ even when we feel they are in error.

1 Peter 2:17 instructs us to “Show proper respect to everyone..” One of the most important ways to show respect is to actually listen to what another person has to say. Listening shows that we value them and their thoughts and opinions. Above all, listening, not just passively hearing, helps us develop the fruit of the Spirit; patience, self-control, longsuffering and kindness!

Are you tired of the conflict all around you? If you do not care enough to listen, perhaps you would do well to pause before you type, comment, or click to share on social media. If you do not care enough to listen, perhaps you need to pause and breathe before you react to someone’s post you disagree with.

[heartoppression]

This young princess [Antigone] is a formidable being, a of cold resolve and fierce intensity. Unlike Anouilh's Antigone she has no tender emotions; except when she speaks to Polynices, she is all hard steel. Once she has made up her mind her mind to act, no persuasion, no threat, not death itself can break her resolution. She will not yield a point a or give an inch […] Those who oppose her will are met with contempt and defiance; friends who try to dissuade her are treated as enemies. Even when she despairs of the gods to whom she had looked for help, she does not waver; she goes to her death with a last disdainful insult to Creon: "see what I suffer now / at the hands of what breed of men" (1032-33) This is a pattern of character and behavior which is found in other Sophoclean dramatic figures also; not only in the Oedipus of the other two plays of this volume but also in the protagonists of Ajax, Electra and Philoctetes. They are of course very different from each other, but they all have in common the same uncompromising determination, the same high sense of their own worth and a consequent quickness to take offense, the readiness to die rather than surrender— a heroic temper.

Bernard Knox, in the introductory notes to Sophocles' Antigone (trans. Robert Fagles)

#082022 #Sophocles #Robert Fagles #Bernard Knox #Antigone #The Three Theban Plays #lit

[gnattyplayssims]

1907 Pt2 - School Days

Daniel continued to go to school even though it was boring. Most of what the teachers were teaching he had read in a book in grade school. He started skipping more and more and often got in trouble when the teacher caught him sneaking away.

"I just don't understand why I have to attend when I can just come on test days and still pass." His new friend Bernard just shrugged. "One day when I inherit the farm, I'm gonna sell everything and move out of this place. I'll be rich and can go anywhere."

Despite Daniel's plans he and Hemman remained close. Hemman continued to push him to attend school and do the homework even when he was bored. "You'll need to do well if we're going to go to university. Otherwise you'll just end up losing all the money you inherit."

Daniel tried to take Hemman's advice but when the first snow fell all of his motivation faded away. "This is so dumb." He muttered to himself. "I could finish high school with my eyes closed, now I have walk 3 miles uphill in a blizzard."

As his drive for education wavered, he soon found another reason to start attending school when Elena Bailey the daughter of the powerful Thorne Bailey began attending. Thorne was the Dean of a prestigious university that Daniel wanted to attend making Elena a advantageous catch.

"Marry me!"

"Don't be silly."

"I'm serious. My family's rich and I'm the heir, it's a match that makes sense."

"But I'm used to servants."

"Don't worry about that. My mom and sister's will help and when I inherit, I'll get you servants and anything else you may need."

1908 Pt1 - The Next Mrs. Mizrahi

#mizrahi legacy #antique generation #decades challenge #sims 4 storytelling #ts4 storytelling #ts4 legacy

[shawnjacksonsbs]

Sometimes, and only sometimes, "damn it" just means "as it's supposed to be". 3-11-23

"They squander every opportunity of being young, on being young.” - George Bernard Shaw

I'm just sitting here trying to reconcile my . . .uh. .aging, as it were.

Or, as it are, I should say.

Lol, or maybe lol no lol, but I haven't decided that yet.

Granted, I'm hoping for a lot more life, I'm still choosing quality over quantity in case I used up most of my miles, awake, in my old life.

Trying to figure out why wisdom has to come mostly after the majority of our years have passed has me constantly baffled.

I'm hurtin' in places I wished I wasn't yet.

Walking funny after a long, hard day of work.

This left ear of mine is in pretty bad shape still from last weekend.

My eyesight is running from me.

My metabolism isn't what it used to be, even after the dope. If that tells you anything!Lol

It just feels like I expedited my share of time, and I know I definitely got more behind me than in front of me.

I'm not trying my case before a jury of peers either mind ya. I know some of you are on in years yourself, some way more so than me.

I just . . .

Sometimes, I really do wish I could get behind the God/Heaven bit. I just can't do it, but man, wouldn't it just alleviate all worry (so long as I was living right, which I believe I am).

The knowing it ain't over and you can be with passed loved ones, as well as look forward to the younger ones one day, all while being in a paradise of sorts.

It's just too bad.

I imagine that mindset would have me taking my current "now" too much for granted, anyway.

It needs to feel finite and limited, not restricted. I decide what's precious and what's not.

When it comes to prioritizing the things in my life, it is all about me . . .kinda.

The ways in which I impact others, whether it's those closest to me or strangers, can make me feel like life is majestic and amazing, or it can instill a longing for things unimportant.

In this regard, I am ahead of the curve I think.

If being and living this example helps break cycles, break chains, then maybe it can help break molds for the youngins.

That's what I truly long for. A place, and in a peace of mind, so that the wisdom can shine a little earlier, and earlier.

Broken hearts, and broken bones do teach us how to be, and who to be, but who says it has to last, repeating even if only slightly, until retirement? Lol no lol

It's usually fleeting, those curious missteps that have me scratching my head about how so many people are behind some kind of life, after life is over.

If I'm being honest, I wouldn't be up there in heaven anyways, even if I've made up for all the wrongs I've done in my past (which is highly unlikely).

I'd be so disgusted and disappointed with how "they" allow things down here that they'd get an ear full.

By the way, is it a him or a her, or a they? I imagine a loving God as a they, but then again . . .loving is the key word. Lol

A little off track again.

I just want to make as much of my time left as enjoyably fulfilling as I can.

But without burning out, or not feeling love to and from . . .humanity.

I still have faith in us. As a whole, or in groups, it wavers a bit, but I've spoken to too many people on all different sides of all kinds of issues, and the majority of people care about other people. It's just which people, why, and to what degree that most vary.

On a different note, work feels like it's turning around and picking up some too.

If you didn't already guess, it stands to reason, more work, more . . .ailings. lol

It's not a prerequisite for thinking about life, after, etc, etc, but it does aim the mind in some direction as I feel older than I ever have before. Lol

As I should. As it all turns out like it's supposed to.

P.s. I assure you no one loves, and supports our young people, and their views about life more than I do. Jus' sayin, please don't confuse my wishing they didn't have to feel as much as bad, with them not being able to handle it. I promise it's not the same.

Please go share in the love and the laughter, and forgive sooner. I can't stress that lsst bit enough.

Be kind, as always as possible and stand with those determined to stand up to injustices young, or old.

Until next time, an oldie but goodie to take us home;

“Youth is wasted on the young.” - George Bernard Shaw

I wrote this entry toward the middle of the week, and then had a couple different conversations. I didn't want to change my entry. I liked how it turned out, so here's a small addition instead of a part 2. Lol

To get it out of my . . .

Reasoning. . . and patience,

The thing is, I don't think believing in your God to be a matter of morality, but more a difference of opinionated conjecture at this point.

Won't know for sure while we're alive, and I don't believe we'll know for sure when we do die, even if you're right, and I am wrong.

For you, your God does what you need him to if you align your will with what you believe his is.

That part is enough for me the whole "you're living right" part. If you are, I mean, living right in your heart. Only you truly know that part.

Being human [and the experience] is precious, not damaged.

And just for the same sake, my beliefs, or the sharing of my lack of beliefs, is not an attack or an affront on your beliefs.

It shouldn't be taken that way.

Although I feel it's disrespectful to try and constantly convert someone(s), I try to limit sharing that part when I can, because I realize that most of the people trying to reach me through these "motives", do it out of love. Job description or not ( 😉 ), we should be respectful of each other's beliefs.

Go find those who are still lost and need help finding their way, they'll be looking for you. I reckon you'll know them when you see them, if you're paying attention.

I assure you that ain't me though. Lol no lol

I love you. Truly, I do.

[mstexalicious1961]

SOTK

devotion by Bernard Trippett, Jr

Tell him it is written!

“Now when the tempter came to Him, he said, ‘If You are the Son of God, command that these stones become bread.’ But He answered and said, “It is written, ‘Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God’” Matthew 4:3-4, NKJV.

Jesus didn’t debate. He didn’t argue about the issue. He didn’t allow the devil to lead him into despair. In response to the devil’s temptations and schemes, in response to what the devil said about who He was and what God can do, He said, “It is written.”

When it comes to everything in your life, don’t fight with your own words. Fight with God’s. Let God’s Word stand alone and win for you. Let it stand alone and show you how powerful it is. It is sharper than any two-edged sword. It drives away your enemies. It can shut the mouth of condemnation when it speaks. It doesn’t buckle in the storm. It doesn’t waver and always comes through to bless you. It will tell you to hold on. It is able to establish peace in your heart and mind. God’s word still has the same power as when He spoke it. God doesn’t change, and His word doesn’t either. It is written.

One of the greatest commitments you can make is to put the word of God in your heart and declare it over your life each day. Jesus couldn’t win without knowing what was written–nor can you.

Prayer: Father, I truly thank you for your word that never fails. You left us what is written so I can know you and build my faith. You left it so that I can use it to win every fight against the enemy. Develop in me the habit, like Jesus, of declaring your word. Make it like a reflex in me! I commit to starting somewhere and putting your word daily in my heart. Thank You, Lord! I am victorious with your word. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Study: Matthew 4:5-11, Romans 10:17, Hebrews 4:12

#devotion

[gizmocrate-werecrow]

What to do when you are a leafling: life death and pikmin

Sherry floated beside Yonny and tapped him on the shoulder, she tapped until Yonny’s attention was caught.

“All Glow Pikmin are Yonny, I died when papa sent me to fight a giant Arachnorb with metal and flesh. It shook me off and the next thing I know I'm missing my ears and I'm a glow Pikmin!”

Yonny perked up at the mention of flesh and metal, his eyes lit up with curiosity and he listened with rapt interest. “I thought Cyborgs were fiction.”

“What are cyborgs…OH! Is it when a being is a mix of metal and flesh?”

“Yes! Sherry i want to find this creature someday, once i manage to fix up my condition of course. It sounds so interesting to see.” Yonny exclaimed, he held Sherry closer and smiled. His hand touched his chest again, his expression changing from a familiar smile to a frown. Yonny floated silently to the ground, letting his feet touch the ground before he turned to the direction of the hideaway.

“Yonny? I-i-i didn't think of asking before but why? Why are you here?” Sherry said, her voice wavering a little as Yonny stopped in his tracks.

“I am the doctor of the rescue corps, we were sent here by a distress call of the Hocotactian ship the SS Dolphin and its captain. However the seven of us were separated thanks to a mysterious force that crashed our ship.”

“Papa crashed thanks to a mysterious force and–”

Yonny turned on his feet and went right near Sherry, she let out an eep and readjusted the pen she had tucked behind her nonexistent ear.

“That’s the Captain we were sent here for! you worked for him! Where is he now?!”

“um…I don't know. Papa wasn’t a part of the Connection so I don't know.”

“I should've known. Wait a moment Bernard and Dingo are a part of this Connection. I could ask them.”

Meanwhile Dingo had taken off his suit, he rolled it up and put it to the side next to Bernard’s suit. He sighed and sat down.

“Shouldn’t we talk to Yonny?”

“Yonny has Sherry.” Dingo shrugged. He laid down and stretched. He looked at his hands and stayed quiet. The leaves seemed to sway and move when he moved his hands. Bernard sat down next to him and took off his shades. He had one green eye and one brown eye, a trait rarely seen from those native to Nijo.

“I don’t know how long Yonny was with Sherry before we reunited but listen, we need to support each other and find a way back home UNDERSTAND?”

“I do! Don’t yell at me like that. Fine, I'll talk to him. Come along Jack. You’re coming too Bernard!”  Dingo said with Jack happily following beside him. Jack twittered and climbed onto his shoulder while Bernard walked beside him. The group walked into the dark, the soft green glow in the cave growing clearer with every step.

In a flash of light, Yonny appeared right in front of them.

“Yonny! I…I’m…um…” Dingo started, he dug his hands through his hai—leaves—hair leaves once.

“What is it? Trying to comfort me after I have found out I am actually dead?” Yonny sighed.

Everyone took a moment before the silence was broken by Dingo blurting out: “You’re dead?!” 

“Yes, which is all the more reason we need to defend a luminknoll. As long as we have even one sample of glow sap we can wait until rescue to refine it.”

“Great, does this mean another fruitless defense.”

“No. We can learn from past mistakes, tonight will be different, come, the night has already begun so suit up.” Yonny said with a tinge of laughter behind it. He floated by while the others followed.

—

Up aboveground, no monsters have thankfully come around yet. Dingo was walking around the luminknoll alongside Bernard while Yonny floated near the top

On the ground Jack was digging through Yonny’s emergency kit, they rustled and dug a bit deeper and took out a sharp metal toothpick.

“It’s a pikmin sword!” Jack said, holding the small sharp stick triumphantly.

“That’s a toothpick for cleaning teeth. Yonny told me that.” Sherry flew down.

“It’s a sword!”

“Whatever you say.” Sherry said, writing down some notes, she then touched the tip of the toothpick in curiosity. The toothpick began to glow much like the luminknoll. Jack waved it around excitingly, swishing it around.

“It’s a glowing sword now! A sword that chases away the darkness! Dingo! Look at my cool sword!” Jack said, they happily ran up to Dingo.

“Check out my glowing sword!” Jack squeaked.

Dingo knelt down to look, it glowed like a glow stick or that one time he dreamt about glowing for three nights in a row.

“That is very nice.”

Just when Jack was about to answer, there was a bone shaking cry, everyone looked up and Yonny floated down, fear was clear in his eyes.

“I saw a creature made of fog with glowing red eyes, Sherry called it something…”

Jack froze up and dropped their sword, they were shaking and muttering.

Dingo looked into the distance, there was a cloudy creature that had a small red dot for a mouth and nudged forward on two arms. It tossed its head back and let out a long sorrowful cry.

(yes the toothpick is a legend of Zelda reference.)

#pikmin au #fanfic #pikmin 4 spoilers #red pikmin #glow pikmin #pikmin 4 #dingo pikmin #yonny pikmin #bernard pikmin #smoky progg

[arrythmicdisaster]

the first time bernard saw tim cry, it took him completely by surprise.

it was just an average rainy night in gotham, bernard invited tim over to his place since his parents were gone and he wanted to have a little gaming date with the two of them. instead of automatically saying yes, tim hesitated slightly but ultimately agreed in the end.

when he got to the house, bernard could tell something was off. the bags under tim’s eyes were too heavy, and the way he hunched over made it seem like he had something to hide. he didn’t prod though, that didn’t seem like the best thing to do. so bernard decided to do what he did best-

be a huge and utter distraction.

they gamed together for a few hours before tim finally had enough and settled back on the couch. his eyes closed, his breath attempting to stay even. he must’ve gone through a tough time, and even though bernard didn’t know what had transpired, he knew he wanted to help. so he gently took him into his arms, murmuring soft affirmations and reassurances whilst he rubbed small circles on his shoulder.

and then tim started to cry, and bernard had no idea how to deal with it.

so he just continued cooing words of comfort. he didn’t pry, he didn’t need to when tim was as distraught as he was. the cries were soft at first, almost nonexistent with the way he tried holding it back. and then bernard told him to let it out, and tim just broke.

the two stayed intertwined for more hours, not wanting to separate at all. they kept close to each other until the soft sobs turned into small whimpers and then bernard felt a heavy weight fall on his chest. he looked down to see an asleep tim, seemingly all tuckered out from crying and whatever other stress he was under. bernard would ask what happened in due time, but tonight wasn’t the night.

he later found out that the culprit of his wavering emotional state was because of a fight he had with bruce, and tim didn’t take it well. it didn’t help that bernard’s absolute tenderness and quiet intimacy was something he wasn’t experienced in dealing with, and his heart had filled to the point of flooding.

that part hurt bernard the most to hear.

and so from that point on, bernard wasn’t too surprised whenever tim cried, because he had a lot on his plate and his tears were very much warranted. he just decided that he’d be the calm amongst the storm in his life, his shelter of sanctity and stability. whenever anything got too chaotic, tim could come to bernard and recoup. he’d be his shield, and he’d provide a safe space.

besides, it wasn’t hard to become a safe space when tim had already viewed him as such long ago.

#hopkins writes #i fucking love the intimacy and aching love troupe #these two are perfect and i want more of them #can be read with bernard knowing or not knowing tim’s identity #tim drake #bernard dowd #timber #timbern #tim x bernard #bernard x tim #robin #red robin #dc #dc comics

[ivorydragoness44]

Bernard x Elf!Reader: Pointedly Painted

Word Count: 328

Notes: The Elf!Reader is a detail-oriented toy painter. They are busy painting a toy when Santa, Bernard, and Curtis are making their rounds to see how the elves are doing and how the toys are coming along.

~~~~  ~~~~

    During the month of December, it was not unheard of to see Santa and his top two elves making their rounds in the toy shop. However, you were all too focused on the toy in front of you. There had to be a smooth coat of paint. Even the tiniest of details were not going to be overlooked by your hands.

   The sounds of various toys sounded off in the distance as they were inspected and tried out. The steady beat of small hammers assembling parts and the other happy chatter was all in a day’s work at the North Pole.   By the time the familiar jolly voice had reached your ears, your focus had hardly wavered.   “Ah,” Santa Claus gestured widely, “our tip-top painters hard at work.”    His happy and honest praise was always welcomed.    You smiled to yourself as you glided the paintbrush in an clean line.    The sound of your name leaving Curtis’s mouth peaked your attention all the more.    “They have been painting these new sets of toys,” he said.    “And with the steadiest hands in the business,” Santa praised.    “Yes, she does,” Bernard agreed. “But sometimes a little too steady. Will this be completed by Christmas?”    “You should know this by now, Bernard.” You arched a brow at him, your eyes finally leaving the toy in front of you.    Santa whistled, wowed by your remark toward his number one elf. He turned to the side to avoid your gaze and rocked on his feet.    With light feet, Curtis too hid from your sight behind Santa.    “I am very well aware that I paint at a slower pace than the other elves. However, I do take pride in quality over quantity. I would much rather give a few well-painted toys than two-thousand poorly painted pygmy poodles.”    Bernard cleared his throat awkwardly as Santa was quietly mouthing your same lettered phrase. “K-keep up the good work.”    “As always,” you smiled impishly.

#bernard the elf #santa clause #bernard x reader #bernard the elf x reader #bernard the elf fanfiction #disney #disney fanfiction #christmas