For anyone swimming in the vessel!Bernard or Cult of Dionysus waters lately, I've been using this resource for my WIP fic. These are the particular pages I've been leaning on for Dionysus' characterization and a lot of the inspo behind the weird metaphoric way he talks about his domains. This site is SO MUCH BIGGER than what I'm using, and from what I can tell, also covers many other Olympians.
this is 100% @coconutjelly's fault. I should be studying. I have only 1 chapter left of this last unit of this last course and it's fucking massive. But instead I'm having Thoughts about @coconutjelly's vessel!bernard verse and how I really want there to be more "fucking on an altar ritual sacrifice" in it.
It all starts with the Cult of Dionysus (that's the cult Bernard was in right? I will be honest, I only know DCU from fic so mostly I run off ~vibes~ here): so I know that in canon it's supposed to be a cult of pain and death and stuff. But I'll be honest, when I imagine a cult of dionysus I imagine a cult of pure hedonism. and it's disappointing to realize that's not the case. But I'm going to combine the two. My version of this cult is one of pure sensation. Extreme sensation.
(excuse the gratuitous worldbuilding here, I can't/don't want to help myself) [tw for a graphic wound and sexual content]
Because the thing is, Pain is sensation and so is Hedonism. Physical sensation. So unless I wanna retcon it later, this is a cult with no drugs and probably no alcohol. Getting high on only your own body's endorphins. but holy fuck you can get high on those. And it starts soft. On a casual observance, the cult is basically just a sex club. Meet ups seem like giant orgies. You don't even have to have sex to participate - you can wear soft clothes and taste good food and cuddle and glut yourself on skin contact and you'll get a membership pin and the number of the on-call person who will bail you out of everything from a bad break up to jail to an exam tomorrow to a gang war to just having murdered-
And that security and lack of pressure is alluring.
The entire cult is like a candle flame. At first you are attracted to it because it's pretty and warm and lights up the way. But soon your buddy dares you to hold a hand over it and then you dare them and then somehow before you know it there are more people and a stopwatch involved and then someone is screaming in triumph and slapping you on the back because you just got a third degree burn in the palm of your hand from holding it over a blowtorch and your pupils are blown and you adrenaline is pumping and the feel of skin flaking off the charred mess of your palm just registers as one more interesting sensation because you're high on endorphins and triumph and your buddy is there on his knees sucking you off as someone high fives your charred hand and everyone is screaming in joy.
(and in the real world you end up in thee hospital with an extreme gross infection from smearing come into the burn and a life long disability and hopefully that experience outweighs the ecstasy you felt so you don't do it again.)
but in Bernard's cult, he felt something touch his hand as he came down his friend's throat, the orgasm almost pale in comparison to the feeling of the flame and when he came to, in a pile of silk on an expensive mattress on the floor, his hand is whole with a black outline of the burn on his palm.
He grinned and turned to the friend who'd introduced him to the cult - the friend who'd looked so impressed, maybe even a little scared last night - and thought maybe next time they could play with electricity.
So my brain spiralled out while thinking of scenarios and I got disappointed bc I'm pretty sure that structurally, I should do The Ritual next (the one Robin interrupts). But then I remembered this is a notfic. So fuck it. Here's some more fucked up cult stuff.
[TW for more of the same for this 'verse. Cult stuff and Gore and sexual content.]
In a traditional narrative these things would probably come out later. Scenes of Bernard talking to various people. Mostly Teen Titans and Young Justice, with a smattering of Batfam depending on the focus of the rest of the fic. And Bernard just casually mentioning things in an offhand way (and then we get a brief flashback to what really happened). In @coconutjelly's fic, Kon mentions Bernard making jokes about spanking and whips and chains and this is like that.
I was studying yesterday and got to a section on Cryoablation and my brain, as it does, went "what if cold???" and then I recorded a fic about hypothermia today and that just cemented it. Bernard has experienced Cold. Both hypothermia style and cold so sharp it burned. The hypothermia was with a walk in freezer. I haven't fully figured out this scenario so feel free to chime in, but it definitely involves him slowly succumbing to hypothermia and maybe starvation while someone fucks him slowly and softly. Bernard is pretty sure that's the first time he actually died. They said they brought him back before his heart stopped but he knows what it feels like to have D bring him back and he's pretty sure that was it.
As for the sharp cold. Sometimes you're at a party and someone brings some liquid nitrogen to do the banana trick and you think "what if I shoved my hand in there?" - the Cult of Dionysus isn't known for controlling those intrusive thoughts. Which leads to people cheering and screaming and that guy that you think is so fucking hot finally looking at you and you end up on your knees sucking him off as he cracks the tips of your fingers off one by one. And you orgasm at the feeling of the entire thing shattering down to your wrist. Bernard's come from weirder sensations than the sharp burning there-and-gone pain of his entire hand shattering. Besides, now he has super fine scars over his entire hand. Perfectly preserving the moment. One ice and one fire. Eventually he'll be the avatar.
The second scenario is because I was, again, studying and this time it was needles and wires involved and I wondered - what if fish hooks? Which is why Bernard now has a story to tell to Aquaman about how he knows how much fishhooks hurt. There was a girl from the docks who was learning to be a piercer and Bernard's wanted dick piercings since he first saw someone with them in the Cult and one thing led to another and. well. he was wandering around the cult meeting with his dick out and displaying the fishhooks ladder. High fiving the person who said his dick was now a "fish ladder". Later, the piercer rode his dick with the hooks still in before ripping them out and leaving him to wander around with his bloody torn open dick and wondering how he was going to hide the bleeding in his crotch from his college roommate. [sidebar, did Bernard go to college? did he dorm??] He woke up in his bed the next morning with the ladder back - this time with more of those eerie fused barbells.
The third scenario happened because I was trying to think of who Bernard could make these remarks to and realized the gold that is Jason crashing a fake date with Tim. Jason is crashing it because this guy is super sketchy and he's trying to make up for almost killing Tim that one time. Gotta make sure little bro is being treated right. Only then Bernard turns to him and is like "...you're his older brother and Not Dick Greyson....." and then sees the edge of his autopsy scar and is all "oh hey! I've got one of those too! But you were probably dead for yours weren't you. Dunno how to feel about that. Like, on the one hand the pain of the scalpel is sharp and the sensation of the saw cutting through your sternum and ribs is like nothing else but the sensation of having someone literally hold your still beating heart in your hand? Makes me want to get heart surgery with no anasthetic. Makes me wish this guy *gesture at Tim* was a trained surgeon." And. well. what can Jason do in the face of that but retreat.
[and now I need to back away slowly from that scenario because otherwise I'm going to start shipping Bernard/Jason with the angle of "survived a death cult"]
And as for the last thing - and this finally leads us once again closer to The Ritual: @coconutjelly linked me to this post:
💬 3 🔁 1 ❤️ 13 · "You will have river-water enough when you drink the fatal water of Akheron (Acheron). Your belly swells already with the
And when I read it I think I got a little muddled with the bit about Lethe because I assumed the water of Akheron had some memory shit going on but I can work with this.
So I said that my Cult of Dionysus was a pretty Dry cult. there's some drinking but mostly not by people who do the sensation stuff because drinking tends to dull the physical senses. And hard drugs are generally also a no because of the same reason. They mess with your ability to really feel. [I say as someone who barely drinks much less has experience with hard drugs, I could be wrong here.] But everyone in the cult knows that sometimes the punch is spiked with the water of Akheron and that it increases pain a thousandfold and messes with your memory. And for years Bernard assumes that's what's happening to him. He didn't actually blow a hole in his hand with a blowtorch - he just felt like it. He didn't actually have his nipples ripped out or his dick torn apart or his hand shattered - that was the Water of Akheron talking.
Only then he gets inducted into the true Believer part of the cult - the parts that do the rituals and stuff. Because even with thinking his memory is fucked up, the physical evidence is there and deep down, unconsciously, he believes. And the set up for the induction ceremony is so tame. Just a bunch of cushions on the floor and a goblet in the middle.
the Water of Akheron Fucks. Bernard. Up.
He's never had to miss school or work or anything because of Cult activity but this takes him out for a week.
He's never felt pain like that before. And he never will again until the day it all comes crashing down.
Continuing this worldbuilding/backstory. (TW: grooming, bullying, implied but never confirmed underage, gore, injury, sexual content, egregious use of 2nd person pov)
So the thing about the Cult of Dionysus is that it's a CULT, right?
And like, that's true in the "manipulate you into giving everything to it" sort of way. Only the Cult of Dionysus doesn't care about money. They'll take it, sure, but what they want is your body, your autonomy, your commitment in the most base way possible. This isn't a cult where the leader gets rich and leaves the followers with nothing. No this is the kind of cult where the people in charge cut the flesh from their new recruits and fuck them until they cry and then send them back to their families missing pieces of themselves that they'll never get back (and don't want to).
It's the kind of cult that welcomes you with cuddles and warmth and older people who really care in the way your bigoted family don't. The kind of place where an older woman picks you up after the worst day of your life (so far) (Your mother found your one rainbow shirt and burned it first thing in the morning and the jocks as school found out you like kissing boys and tormented you all day) and hauls you into a kiss in front of them and you don't even really like women but you like that everyone saw you kissing her and then she takes you to a cult meeting and hands you over to some friends who cuddle you and jerk you off slow and sweet while pinching you with sharp nails and biting at your mouth so hard that when you finally go home, your lips are bruised and bloody and you say you got in a fight and your parents believe that's why your throat sounds like you've been choked. And you revel because they'd shit the bed if they knew you had actually been choked - but by a cock so far down your throat you can still feel it.
That's how it starts, with sweet nothings and help and lovebombing. So when that older woman wants to chain you down spreadeagle and ride you, you think "she helped me out so much, I can do this for her" because she did, the jocks at school have left you alone now that they think you have a cool older girlfriend. Even though you aren't really into women. And when she doesn't let you come for hours and you're desperate for it, her kisses constantly stealing your breath when her breasts aren't smothering you, of course you say yes when she asks to pierce your nipples even if you've avoided any of the permanent body modifications so far. You come as the second needle slides through and you think you feel a mouth on them as you pass out but she only has one mouth? And if the next day she slides a vibrating egg us your ass before you leave for school, you don't say anything because the other members are doing similar things and this was your first time staying over all night. You keep not saying anything even as the vibe goes off randomly in school and you can't get it out because there's no cord and the jocks find your nipple piercings and call you slurs again and spend all day twisting the piercings until they are bloody and bleeding through your shirt and when you stagger through the doors to the meeting that night (even though you've never gone 2 nights in a row) you are bombarded by praise and kisses and hugs and somehow you end up tied down again (to a table this time) with a man's hand up your ass to the wrist and a line of women waiting to ride your cock and pull at your bleeding piercings and at the end of the night he presses the egg into your prostate as the woman on top of you tears out the right nipple ring with her teeth and you pass out.
You wake and find two whole nipples with barbels through them. And to this day, Bernard can't remove the right one. He's fucked if he ever needs an MRI because that barbel is fused - not even welded shut, it's a single piece of metal somehow through his nipple.
Bernard doesn't like to think about this side of the cult. He forces himself to do it twice a week in therapy and refuses every other moment of the day. He'd rather think about that time he intentionally ate an entire ghost pepper whole just for the burn of it.
And the Cult thing true in the "wild fringe religion" sort of way too. At the outset, it seems like set dressing - like an excuse. A reason to get away with the cuddling and the orgies. The senior members swear weird. Less "Jesus!" and more "Dionysus' hairy ballsack!" or "Aphrodite's tits!" (or "Dionysus' Tits!" and "Aphrodite's shave's ballsack" because this cult is inclusive and don't judge). And there are tons, maybe even literal tons, of statues and paintings and portraits and renditions and etc of Dionysus around. After the video game Hades came out someone got a massive standee of the Dionysus character art and it's been a staple decoration ever since. There's this massive statue that seems to be at every meeting - no matter where they meet. And when you're new, you just sort of assume that it's someone's job to cart it from frat house to warehouse to cave to mansion but if you really get in, really believe, you realize that no one moves that piece. It just shows up. Well, it shows up if there's a believer worshipping. Bernard's never been to a meeting without one but he's heard stories. There are hymns and rituals and stuff, but you have to be in DEEP to be taught any of that.
The thing is, there are people in the cult who only do two of the three. There are always a few really grounded yet really wild people who are into the hedonism and the religion. There was this history professor who showed up casually for a while and recited entire ancient greek prayers while walking on coals and letting people pierce any part of their body she wanted - but people like her are far and few between. Almost everyone is taken in by the culty part of the cult - the part that messes with your head. But most people don't go for the trifecta. (Bernard's always been an overachiever.) Most of the cult doesn't actually believe. They're there for the hedonism and the headtwists. It leads to people trying things that even Bernard won't touch. And they don't wake up the next day like nothing's wrong. They wake up in the hospital being tended to by a nurse who they've only ever seen split open on massive horse dildos. He pins them to the bed and shoves needles into their skin in the dead of night. Those people either come back as believers - completely healed or they never fully recover and yet never talk about how they got those horrific injuries.
And then there are the people who are twisted up in the cult and also truly believe in Dionysus but aren't interested in the hedonism part. There aren't many of them. Bernard's favourite are two old men - potbellied and jolly. They are always blackout drunk by the end of the evening and never share their wine. The cuddle a bit but mostly make sure everyone has water and snacks and maybe lube if they don't want the burn. And in the morning they are the first ones up and always have breakfast ready for anyone who stayed over night. Once, when Bernard was in the clouds high from having both knees smashed in with a sledgehammer, he noticed his knees bent backwards and looked almost like the traditional goat legs of Dionysus and he staggered over to the two men - giggling at the shards of pain walking gave him - and tried to convince one of them to try it - they'd look just like that statue over there. He woke up to working knees and pancakes.
I already answered this one on another ask, so... you get a headcanon/BTS on the character of Dionysus (they/them)!
As I said in the other answer, gods in general in my worlds are limited by the domains of their powers. So, when Dionysus casts a spell to make Kon show them his desires, that's all they get. They literally only see those hopeful, wishful daydreams we all have -- like the one where I run into an ex at karaoke and absolutely slay a breakup song that makes them feel small and stupid.
Dionysus doesn't get the full context, because their domains don't include telepathy or true mind-reading. Though they could certainly make inferences, they don't necessary know why it would mean so much to Kon for the people of Smallville to see him as one of their own, and I'm sure they'd have no concept at all of why Kon would desire to be powerless with Tim.
What they can comprehend is the overall desires in those daydreams: to know deep in your core that you belong, that your loved ones are safe, and that they will never abandon you; to be acknowledged as worthy; to be chosen; to always choose the right path.
And you'd best believe they'll leverage all of those desires to get the outcome they want.
Of characters I've written lately, it's gotta be Dionysus. Fun fact: the mortals don't know this, and they're far too small for it to be offensive, but Dionysus uses they/them pronouns, so that's what I'm going to do here.
It's been so enjoyable pondering what the human presentation of an infinite divine being would be, and how they would interact with a mortal. Like...how much do they actually care about Bernard? How much do they care whether they get a champion, or a given plane of existence is destroyed? Where, if at all, do human-sized emotions and motivations register on the scale of the divine?
There are some things that they've done or said to Kon that don't quite make sense, because they just have a vastly different perspective on existence. And while they are incredibly powerful, any god's power is limited to their domains.
📚 Would you ever want to turn writing into a career?
Look, I live in a capitalist hellscape, I'd do a lot of things if it meant I could get paid enough to live. But I grew up in very old-school fandom, where getting paid for fan work was simply not the done thing.
I do see folks with the Kofis and Patreons, and I... might consider it?
I work in corporate HR (or at least, I did before and will again once I find a job), so I kind of do write as a career. It's just much more boring stuff like EEO violation reports, employee handbooks, and emails to clients explaining why their bold new vision for sick leave is a violation of three Colorado statutes at the same time 🙃
Fountain of Acheron - part 7 (vessel!bernard - smut version)
The scene I meant to write (before Tim took over my brain for 2.3k) was the scene where Bernard finds out he's the sacrifice. ......And I didn't have anything else until I started writing and now IT CONNECTS (and the scene where Bernard finds out is a footnote. but that's okay. This is better.)
[CW: Snakes, ritual sex, ritual torture, branding, sex toys, explicit sexual content, manipulation, isolation, Timeline what timeline I refuse to solidify a timeline]
They don't tell Bernard he's the sacrifice right away. Looking back, Bernard can see it, can see how he was treated differently. But in the moment, Bernard couldn't see it. Too caught up in the excitement of being a Maenard. Of being one of the special inner circle. Of being part of something in a way that finally felt permanent. And the fact that he was chosen for that, didn't accidentally end up there but was deliberately chosen- it was seductive and sweet and satisfied something deep inside him that craved a home. But looking back? It's obvious no one was trying to connect with him for real. Obvious that he was treated differently.
It was in the way he wasn't invited out for coffee except to discuss prep for future scenes. In the way Bernard was never fucked or fucked up without D's statue in the same room. The real statue. In the way Bernard's scenes always had at least one senior Maenard in them, directing things. And how, no matter what role Bernard began with, he'd end up out of his mind in pain and pleasure by the end. It was the intentionality to his scenes. And the cost (time, effort, money) that went into them now.
Bernard thought this was normal. He thought that of course the Maenards would bring in some exotic, poisonous snakes for a scene. A scene where Bernard was tied to a sybian and branded with a million tiny scales as he came and came and came again. Until his body was coming dry and Bernard was screaming every time they ramped up the vibrations. All the while his nose was filled with the smell of burning flesh and his side was on fire. And when he thought they were done, the brand was complete and gorgeous and Bernard couldn't come again, he couldn't. Then they brought out the snakes. The venom made his muscles lock up and set his nerves on fire. Then they turned the sybian back on.
He thought all the initiates were treated to rituals like this. Small "r" rituals. Ones that don't even deserve talking about. Unlike the big "R" rituals. Those ones were saved for the non-initiate Maenards. Those were the ones with pomp and circumstance, where the entire inner circle gathered and lit candles and dressed in togas and laurel leaves and cloaks. Those were the ones where one of the Maenards was strung up and tortured and fucked as they all bore witness and chanted in ancient greek - words they always seemed to know after the first time through by the leader of that Ritual. Where they all jerked off as they watched but didn't come until the end - all over the sacrifice. Ones where D's statue seemed to move and dance to the screams.
Rituals that seemed to be as pointless as any in the garden.
Bernard figured out later that they really, really weren't pointless.
But a key fact was that all those sacrifices survived. One or two had a limp or a not entirely healed injury. (In fact, all of them had unhealed damage, damage that was chronic and more than they'd bargained for. But worth it for the result.) But they all survived. None of the rituals (big or little R) ever killed a true believer. No one from the inner circle (the true inner circle - those that believed enough) ever died in worship (or so Bernard was told).
Which meant that after .....some period of time. Definitely longer than a month but I'm not sure exactly how long. Maybe Bernard doesn't know either. After seeing at least three big Rituals and the freezer ritual and the snake ritual and maybe several other small rituals. (One of which definitely involved Bernard serving drinks at an upscale gala with a vibrating plug in his ass lubed up with ginger lube and meeting his highschool best friend who abandoned him and had gone on to grow up into a fucking gorgeous guy who finally seemed interested in Bernard.) After all that, when one of the people who'd been sacrificed in a Ritual (a girl who now had migraines and bloody noses regularly despite never having a hint headache ever before in her life) - when she asked Bernard if he wanted to be the sacrifice in the next big Ritual...
Bernard felt special. He was wanted here! Of all the recent initiates, he was the one tapped to do this! Of course he said yes. And they told him they'd tell him everything he needed to know so of course he didn't try to look up the Ritual. (not until Tim made an offhand comment while they held hands in a movie theatre and watched the latest disney film. Something about gods always taking their due or something about Dionysus actually being way more bloodthirsty than that or something about the main character in the movie being really naive because he trusted some people not to sacrifice him.) Bernard didn't want to be naive so he looked it up.
And realized he was probably going to die.
And after crying into his Prof's shoulder after class one day (a class he was only not failing because the prof was fudging his marks) - he was softly convinced that going through this Ritual, giving up his body to their god, was the most important thing anyone in the cult could do. That Prof was jealous that he couldn't do it. That all the other former initiates were too.
Fountain of Acheron - part 6 (vessel!Bernard smut version)
I was trying to figure out what order to do things in next and exactly what the Cult puts Bernard through and what his emotional arc is going to look like for the next bit of the fic (pls let me know if you want me to do a breakdown of this stuff bc I find planning interesting but ehhhh) and part of that was figuring out how Tim fit into all of this. And then. Well. TIM happened to my brain. So this is going to have some spoilers for the next part of Bernard's story but they are sort of contextless because Tim only has a sliver of a clue as to what is actually happening at any given time in Bernard's life. (I will be writing a bunch of this from Bernard's pov so don't worry.)
[CW: angst, gore, dubious consent, drugging of the godly variety, cults, ritual sex, everything is light and fluffy until it's really not]
Tim sees Bernard again for the first time at a society function. He couldn't tell you which one or what it was for. He was strung out and stressed and overworked and expected to be five different people at once at all times. Especially here. The easiest roles were the CEO of Wayne Tech (the co-ceo but considering Bruce's cover as Brucie...Tim was the one all the business people and investors wanted to talk to) and owner of Drake Industries (he was the Heir - now the owner. Their board still talked to him like he needed his daddy's signature but the investors who came to these functions wanted to talk to someone with pull). Those roles were easy because they were business. And what did business really matter except as a cover and a way to fund batman and a way to make real, sustainable change in Gotham- Tim had to remind himself to breathe. Much harder was the role of Tim Drake - heir to the Drake name. People at these things wanted to sympathize with him, to talk about how great his parents were, how much they did and the legacy they left (like they left a 10 year old alone in a mansion with only a part time housekeeper on staff. Ms. Mallory was amazing, but she already had more work than she could keep up with. Tim learned to be dependant early). And the people who wanted him to be Timothy Drake-Wayne, the third Wayne son. The responsible Wayne son. The one that was taking over the family business. The one that all of them wanted an alliance with - that they wanted their daughters married to. (Dick got women trying to seduce him, Damien got attempted manipulation, Tim got proposals that looked like business proposals. Jason, the lucky fuckhead, was dead.)
And, of course, he was also Red Robin.
Later, much later, Tim would remember that he'd been in a back hall of a high society mansion because something seemed off. Odd. Not enough to put a finger on but enough that he paid attention to his Robin instincts.
Then he saw Bernard again. Bernard looked healthy. He had a flush high on his cheeks like he'd been working hard and was glowing with happiness. He was breathing a bit faster and deeper than Tim would expect but it just added to how attractive he was. Tim's brain immediately tanked into the gutter and all Tim could think about was how hot Bernard was, how he looked like he'd just been fucked. How Tim wanted to make him look like that. (Tim was only just coming out to himself at this point and he doesn't want to say Bernard was the push that got him there but...this encounter probably is what made the last of Tim's denial crumble.) Bernard is wearing a slutty little waistcoat and tight pants and when he moves right Tim's sharp eyes catch the bump of his pierced nipples through his shirt and the gap in the vest.
They chat.
They make plans to meet up later.
Tim completely forgets he was investigating anything.
And they do meet up later. And they keep meeting up. Tim has a real civilian friend now. It's hard but interesting. And really worth it. Bernard is amazing and unconnected to any of his stressful life and Tim wants to protect that. So he doesn't stalk Bernard. Doesn't follow him when they aren't together, doesn't track his phone, doesn't ask subtle questions about where he goes and who with.
They start dating.
Tim wants to take it slow because he's never dated a boy. Bernard is enthusiastic about kissing and so, so good at it. But Bernard also wants to keep their clothes on and hands above the waist. Well, he wants Tim's hands above Bernard's waist. He offers to jerk Tim off or suck him off sometimes. Casual offers whose rejection always gets Tim a soft smile in return. It makes Tim want to investigate who Bernard's dated in the past. Because someone expected things of him.
They keep it slow. And life it good.
But every so often Bernard will show up to a date limping slightly, or exhausted, or too sincere and desperate in his jokes about sucking Tim off. And Tim has to get Cass to talk him down and tell him to leave it. Tim trusts Bernard, they talk about a lot of stuff. And Tim shows up with bruises and limping too, so he can't judge.
And then B pulls him off a case. This is a case Tim's been working in the background for years. There are a lot of cults and cult-like organizations in Gotham and Tim's tried to map a lot of them and figure out motivations. The Cult of Dionysus hasn't ever been a priority. Sure they are sketchy as hell and Tim really doesn't understand how anyone can be attracted to stuff like that. But as far as Tim can tell, they are mostly a standard cult, stuff the regular authorities can handle. And they aren't even a cult that kidnaps unwilling victims and brainwashes them so they aren't that bad. Or at least, they weren't that bad. Recently things have been going weird around them. There were two major members who suddenly were released from prison with no appeal necessary. And a puritan politician was found in the middle of an orgy with no memory of how he go there but his campaign collapsed when he couldn't keep from jerking off in the middle of a debate. And a vocal anti-cult (and specifically anti-Dionysus cult) activist was found dead with a grape vine growing from her heart.
It was the last one that sent Tim into a spiral. He knew it was the Cult of Dionysus and he knew there was something not normal human about the murder. But he couldn't prove anything. There was no evidence other than the blatantly obvious Vine through the Heart. And Tim was apparently getting paranoid. He was convinced they were building up to something. Something big.
So B took him off the case.
The next time he saw Bernard, Bernard was glowing with health and happiness. He was so proud about his contributions to some club he was a part of. Tim wanted to be happy for him. WAS happy for him. He told himself he just wanted to be part of that.
He followed Bernard and-
Bernard was part of the Cult.
This was everything Tim wanted. everything he Desired. Tim was welcomed in with open arms and Bernard showed him around, introduced him to all his friends. To the other guys from his college that Tim'd already met at coffee once, to his biochem professor, to the woman who'd helped him pass cacl in highschool, to the two older men who made sure Bernard always had a safe place to sleep even when his parents kicked him out for the night. Tim and Bernard cuddled and kissed and had some punch and Tim saw a lot of sex that night, some of it really risky and a lot of it involving knives or needles or fire or whips, but everyone wanted to be here. Everyone was enthusiastic about it. He watched, because he was Red Robin - and later he analyzed his memories and realized Bernard had kept them to softer, introductory rooms.
Tim had an IN now.
He went back, once, without Bernard. It wasn't as fun and he did feel a little pressured and he still couldn't figure out what was happening and how they were connected to the deaths. But then B was waiting for him at the exit and that was the end of that.
Then came the night when Tim was just back from patrol, running on five hours of sleep in three days and therefore not sure if anything was real. He was in his room in Wayne manor in just his underwear when something tapped on his window. He looked and it was.
Bernard.
Bernard looking like he was a ghost. Pale and shaking and sloppily dressed in a toga. Tim let him in (somehow the alarms didn't react). Bernard babbled and it was only half in english. He sobbed because he wanted out. He was in too deep and didn't want to die and just wanted them to love him again. And Tim offered him a safe place, gave him clothes. Saw the scars and the whip marks and the burns and piercings and the base of a plug inside him and the cage on his cock. Nothing needed to be treated immediately. He bundled Bernard into bed and cocooned them in blankets and mentally made a list of things to deal with in the morning.
He woke to a breeze from his cracked window and a few leaves on his pillow and a mental to do list that didn't make sense. That had been a strong hallucination.
He and Bernard made plans and Bernard was happy. He seemed stressed but it was finals at school and Bernard was swamped so that was obviously it.
A week later, Bernard arranged a date - a super sweet gesture with flowers and sushi and hanging out in a park. and when they kissed goodnight he said something that sounded a lot like it meant "goodbye" and not "see you later". His smile had been a cover all evening. Plastered on over stress and worry and...Tim knew later, pain.
If Tim was a regular person, Bernard would be dead and the world would be a riot of wine and sex and pain and chaos. But Tim wasn't regular and had participated in his fair share of conversations where one person was going to do something where they were pretty sure they were going to die but didn't actually want to tell the other person (Tim's been on both sides of that conversation actually). So he recognizes it. He plants a tracker (several trackers) in Bernard's things. And follows them to a cave under a sex club.
Where he hides in the rafters until he can actually figure out what's going on.
Bernard is tied up and begging in the middle of a double circle of candles. But he's on the altar begging to be fucked. To be mauled. to be used. He's bleeding heavily and covered in a lot of bodily fluids. There are so many Implements around. And plants. and jugs of liquid and fresh fruit. And there are people. Cult members are jerking off idly. And Tim.
Tim realizes they are waiting their turn. Waiting to fuck Bernard. Or carve off another piece of his flesh. Like the man who's inside him right now, chanting in ancient greek while using a wire to cut into Bernard's flesh. A woman starts pressing a stake into Bernard's chest and-
The candles flicker and Tim loses his inhibitions. Tables overturn, batarangs fly, the man inside Bernard goes crashing into a wall hard enough that if Tim was thinking straight he would've been really worried. But he isn't. He's staring down at Bernard.
Bernard who isn't begging.
Who's started laughing. Laughing with a voice that isn't his.
"Oh little bird, look what a mess you made." It says. In greek which somehow Tim understands. Because it's in his head and he can't look away. "Come finish what they started."
Tim won't. He can't. He WANTS.
But he wants Bernard. Not this thing in his skin. He'd been trained by Batman. He's faced scarecrow. He's held his own against gods and demons and the inside of his own head. He will not cave to this one simply because it wears the skin of the boy he loves. (He WANTS)
Only then the thing is laughing and the laugh is sliding into screams of pain and Tim realizes Bernard is dying. He's bleeding out.
Tim should let him. The ritual will fail, Dionysus won't have a foothold into their world. But-
It's all the foothold Dionysus needs. The want overwhelms him and Bernard is laughing again and Tim is inside him for the first time (his first time with a boy at all) and it is good and right and everything he ever wanted and the distant screams as fire grows hotter and fruit trees grow in the eye sockets of cultists and reflections cut necks to water the ground with blood to make it fertile. It all fades into Bernard's golden eyes looking into his soul and wanting him, loving him.
Tim wakes up in the middle of an underground orchard. With the two old men clearing out personal belongings and bones.
To a Bernard who hates him for interrupting. for interfering. for ruining his life.
And a few weeks later, for not even doing all of that properly.
[NOTE: I haven't quite figured out how Tim actually fucks up the ritual. Because the easy way is for him to just tear the dude away and free Bernard and them run away. But I wanted to have Tim have to fuck him sooooo. The worldbuilding will get developed as I develop Bernard's side of things. And might be retconned. or rather - it might get even more obvious that Tim is not the most reliable narrator in this.]
