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@windybluebelles
Occasionally I get annoyed/upset about something that happened in cannon and I just have to sit down and remind myself
“You don’t give a shit, you got into this fandom through fanfiction, you will stay through fanfiction. Cannon can’t hurt you if you genuinely don’t care about the source material.”
deities prefer blood
Maybe I don’t have sexual preferences. Maybe I don’t want to be touched every again by anyone ever
Having a bad day them triggering myself on purpose
“Wahhhh why do I feel so bad?”
I fucking wonder
This is what it’s all about. Saturday night. At home. Switching between the same 4 apps on my phone. Getting scared.
New mascot
theyre saying you have to go to work again tomorrow even though you just went today
My top two fictional male crushes have always been (since I was 9yrs old) Lord Voldemort and Rumplestiltskin from Once Upon A Time and I think that explains me a lot.
“This is overwhelming as shit and I wanna go hang out with my sister instead”
Yes Tim!
Roy: That is one of my best friends
Kon: You shot me in the face yesterday. We have met, like, twice.
Roy: 😀
Kon: I love you too man
every now and then i remember how funny the lego batman Dick Grayson adoption story was. like, Dick was just a fanboy in an orphanage who decided it would be cool if Bruce Wayne was his dad, so when he met Bruce he straight up just asked if Bruce would adopt him, and Bruce wasn't listening to a word this kid was saying because he was distracted, so he just assumed Dick wanted an autograph and signed the adoption documents in Dick's hands, and then he just got in his car and drove off. Alfred had to be the one to go back and get him, just sighing as he opened the car door like 'well, i guess it's legal now, you better get in'. like that's gotta be top ten funniest fucking ways for Bruce to adopt a kid. i think that method should be used more, and i personally think it should be used by Tim.
like- fanboy/stalker child Timothy Drake; knows his parents suck and he decides he wants a new dad. and who would be fucking better than the man he knows for a fact to be Batman?! i want Tim to straight-faced no fear just march up to Bruce during some kind of event with guardianship papers he's already forged his parents signature on, deciding to face-to-face randomly ask this man to be his new dad.
Bruce is not paying attention to anything this kid says, by the way. Bruce is trying to leave the event because Jason's with him and he wants the kid to get an early night before school the next morning. there's press and people asking for pictures swarming the street between him and his car. it's too loud, he's got Jason clinging to his hand and trying to keep up from behind, and there's so many people clamouring for his attention that when this little kid somehow manages to slip up to his side, paper and pen in hand, that he vaguely remembers as one of the kids in his neighbourhood, Bruce just quickly scrawls his signature where the kid points and then tries to shove the paparazzi back again.
Jason's the only one who notices, having tuned out all the other visual and audio mess because he trusted Bruce to handle it. when he sees the glee on Tim's face his hand slips from Bruce, and while the man steps away to demand everybody clear a pathway to his car for him and his kid, he leans over and actually reads what Bruce just signed.
he looks at the paper. he looks at Tim. he looks at the paper.
it's genuinely the funniest fuck up he's ever seen the man do. he visibly has to hold back laughter as he claps Tim on the shoulder and solemnly declares, "welcome to the family, weirdo." before Bruce reaches back to grab him by the sleeve and tug him away again.
Tim goes home to pack his bags and then smugly shows up at Wayne Manor the next day, where Jason lets him in and shows him to one of the empty bedrooms. Alfred spots them and stops for a minute, wondering if this is something he should be involved in. then the kettle goes off and he figures it's not his problem. Bruce does not clock that there is another person unpacking and starting to live in his house until Tim sits next to him at the dinner table and no-shame starts referring to him as dad while Jason gives him the most shit-eating grin imaginable.
Sometimes Red Hood does some work for Batman
OH MY GODIDIDODKEO all i ever do is lose my goddamn mind over these two but basically role reversal…with a twist…also lmao it’s funny how i have such a predictable pattern by now. soft and obsessive. is that telling? i feel like that’s telling-
bernard knows. he knows. contrary to what his parents like to say, and what his teachers like to say, and probably what his classmates like to say behind his back, bernard is not dumb. quite the opposite, actually.
to escape the stifling, love-absent atmosphere of his home - his parents with their haughty conversations about one day getting to shake hands with the likes of the drakes and the waynes at their fancy rich people functions, and their thinly-veiled, judgmental stares - bernard likes to sneak out the second story window of his bedroom, and escape to the roofs of gotham at just ten years old. and sometimes, if he’s lucky enough that there’s hasn’t been any major rogues out that night, he’ll be able to catch the whisper of batman’s cape, or the bright, catching colors of robin in flight.
it’s quick to become routine for him- getting out of that silent, tomb-like house filled to the brim with disappointment, and he goes bird watching. well, bird and bat watching. him, the clothes on his back, and his stupid little binoculars he’s probably had since he was six or something and his mom gave them to him on christmas after he said he enjoyed looking out over the city.
this christmas, he’s going to ask for a camera.
and he does. it’s practically game over from there.
bernard hadn’t really thought of himself as the- stalking type. well, obviously if you’re a good person then it would never even cross your mind to consider yourself a stalker, or to do stalker-like activities. but even then, as bernard silently climbed roofs and peaked around building corners and hid behind vents and doors and roof ledges and dumpsters, snapping pictures of batman and robin, and following them all over gotham without them suspecting a thing, he hadn’t once thought it was necessarily wrong. like, of course it’s wrong in the way that any kind of stalking is wrong, but this is batman. and robin! gotham’s protectors, and very own cryptids. they fight crime and save citizens and break up drug rings and stop muggings and punch scarecrow in the face. surely, surely, if anyone in the world deserved to be documented, monitored, followed, it would be these two? the unknowns that put their lives on the line simply for the good of gotham? surely, bernard is at least in the right for that. for tracking something as important as this. for wanting to know.
and know he does.
bruce wayne and jason todd. his idols. people that have no idea he even exists, but that he loves like he’s right there with them, up on those roofs in his very own spandex. leather? whatever. maybe that’s what he’ll try to find out next.
not that he gets the chance. jason dies, robin dies, and batman is without his partner-in-crime-fighting. a broken, grieving man- father, alone, bereft of a bird, and a shadow without its bright red yellow and green light at its side.
bernard refuses to accept it. refuses to let this legend, this hero, this real, grieving man be without his little birdie. refuses to leave the man that he looks up to more than his own father alone, and without his other half (because what is batman, without his stoplight sidekick? bernard has their pictures hung up all over his conspiracy board in his room, and even when robin is let off to solve things himself, they’re never apart for long. robin keeps batman grounded, and closer to the light- keeps him from melting into the shadows forever, never to be human again.)
he grips his camera tight, and instead of staying in his usual shaded and hidden spot, he walks out into the open, right where he knows batman can see him two roofs away, and he backs up only to go for a running head start, jumping the gap.
it’s two years later, and bernard- he’s robin, and that is still insanity, still something that sets his brain spinning. he wears pants though, because miss him with those godforsaken booty shorts, Peter Pan head ass, Jesus Christ-
the point being, he’s new, and he’s different, but he’s still robin because he had to be. even seeing and knowing batman and bruce up close- pulling the man away from the bat computer so they can train or drink alfie’s delicious tea or watch some brain dead cartoon on the couch, feeling that big, calloused hand ruffle his hair, sending warmth straight through him and squeezing his heart like a hug- he still thinks he’s a cryptid. even as he trains under bruce’s watchful gaze, learning to melt into the shadows as he does, and step quieter and lighter than even a feather would be - finding out what makes batman batman - bernard is 100% convinced bruce is some sort of vampire clone experiment.
and look the man wasn’t involved with any shadow government whatsoever, but there’s something there with some cult known as the league of shadows and that’s enough for bernard’s conspiracy theorist brain to go into a tizzy for a week straight.
all this to say, bruce is closed off and burdened and his grey blue eyes are so broken with pain and grief and a lost love of a little boy who’s life was stolen too soon, and bernard tries not to say anything, tries not to see, tries not to feel suffocated under the weight of it all. because here, even as bruce ignores him most days, flinching away from him in some at the sight of bernard in the robin suit, it’s still infinitely better here than at his empty, loveless house. his parents are always trying to go on some business trip together, and the time they stay gone only extends each time. it spares him from their frosty stares and unfeeling mouths, which only ask if he’s doing well in class and if he’s decided what he’ll do at college (“i don’t know yet mom, i’m only 12” - side note, he’s 14 now-) and if he’s held hands with a girl yet. they always seem particularly testy when they ask that last question. bernard sometimes wonders if they know something he doesn’t and they would just rather swallow lemons whole then ask him directly.
but yeah. bruce’s sad, sad gaze as he looks down at bernard like he’s a ghost of something he wishes he could still ask for will always be infinitely better than- all of that. and robin…that will always be the best thing that’s ever happened to him. becoming useful and seeking out a purpose that can only lead to him doing good? it’s an indescribable feeling. it’s giving little kids lollipops after losing their parents or siblings to a mafia shootout, it’s punching goons in the face and sneaking into highly guarded warehouses and putting on gas masks as they fight against poison ivy and her many pollens. it’s investigating cases, his theorist brain on fire as he gets to search out clues and put pieces together.
it’s staring frustratedly at the bat computer as the third museum that week gets robbed of their lauded, precious painting, or something or other, his blonde brow twitching on his bare face with his rising irritation, his gloved hands gripping the back of the plush chair seated at the computer with enough force to crack glass.
whoever this thief was, they were good, and bernard didn’t have enough of a trail to go off of. they sent him on a false lead at first, before he quickly realized what they had done and doubled back, only to be left with nothing. it was driving him crazy. he was this close to just saying fuck it and going out again, even with patrol supposed to be over, just so he can sneak into the museum again. retrace his steps.
“master bernard?” he hears alfie’s voice echo through the batcave as the man seemingly descends the stairs so he can come fetch him for dinner. except, bernard is already gone. all alfred sees as he walks up to the bat computer before stopping in his tracks with a slight disappointed slant to his mouth, is a slowly spinning, empty chair.
robin narrows his eyes behind the mask as he looks up at the skylight he descended from, knowing without a doubt that’s where the thief had entered and escaped. he then looks around at the crime scene, carefully stepping over labeled evidence and broken glass, not a crunch to be heard with his kind of training. he stares at the empty display case where a great big painting from the renaissance era should have been, painted with soft yellows and beiges and reds in swooping swirling patterns. he looks all around it, behind it, at the other display cases, at the speckled shattered glass again which was actually a result of the thief being thrown at the only other empty display case that had yet to be filled by the new art the museum was due to receive soon.
he perks up as he crouches down at the glint of something, immediately going into the pockets of his belt and pulling out an evidence baggie and some tweezers. he picks up the glass, and smirks as he sees its faintly tainted with small droplets of blood.
only to drop it all as a loud, lightning-crack of a sound rips through the still, silent air, his hands stinging from the attack. he springs to his feet, whipping out his nunchucks painted red and green, only to freeze as he looks up at the culprit. how he got snuck up on had eluded him for no more than a split second- the time that it took his brain to register what he was seeing. and then he almost sighed audibly as he realized he was an idiot.
cat lad. of course it was. cat woman’s newest side kick. he was quick to make a name for himself for being as fast and light on his feet as his mentor, and for being whip-smart. his intelligence seemingly matched the bat’s, with the way he had him and robin scrambling after his thieving.
“of course it was you. i should’ve known,” bernard huffs out, his voice an airy thing that was mostly annoyance, but also something like grudging respect- though still in robin’s deeper register. cat lad chuckled lightly, stepping close enough to be slightly seen in the museum’s low lighting, his whip in hand, and most definitely the thing that had made bernard drop his biggest clue yet.
“don’t worry hon, i’m sure you would’ve figured it out soon. i might’ve changed my signature, but you’re fast. faster than batman, at least,” cat lad says, his voice buttery smooth, though just as young as bernard’s is out of the suit. bernard had figured they were a teenager like him, and he didn’t know why the thought sent butterflies through his stomach. he tries not to grit his teeth so he can focus. he will not blush because of a compliment from a thief. he will not, he simply refuses.
“gee thanks, love the confidence. to address the elephant in the room though, i’m gonna need that painting back,” robin says, all mocking and serious with his lips pursed. he still hasn’t moved from his fighting stance. cat lad giggles behind his hand, like he finds robin particularly amusing, and he steps closer. close enough that he could reach out and touch him. he holds his hands up, whip at his hip once more, looking contrite in that stupid cat cowl.
“sorry birdie, it’s already gone. sold. me and mama are enjoying the spoils, ya’know?” he says, all soft and sorry. he’s stepping closer, knee-high, heeled boots crunching over the glass with not a care for something as trivial as evidence. robin doesn’t know why he’s staying rooted in place. he doesn’t know why he hasn’t lashed out and started a fight yet. his hands are sweating in their gloves, only clutching his nunchucks tighter. his eyes could not possibly narrow any smaller.
“are you kidding me?” he growls out, irritated enough to sound like batman. cat lad just grins, like the chesire he is, and he reaches out. slowly, steadily, like where he’s going to wind up putting his hands is inevitable, like he knows robin won’t say no. robin should be doing more than saying no, he should be sweeping his leg low to make the thief fall and tying zipties around cat lad’s wrists.
“i know, i know, it was quick, wasn’t it? i told mama that you would have us made once you picked apart the false trail, and she made sure to speed up the process as much as was humanly possible. trust me, if i could still give it to you, i would,” the thief is saying, his pink lips stretched in that knowing smirk and his glittering, glass-shards-for-eyes holding robin’s white lens-gaze.
robin scoffs, so loudly disbelieving even in his posture that cat lad laughs, high and genuine.
“you’re such a liar,” robin is saying, his hands slowly lowering against his better judgement as cat lad lays one hand on his waist, and cups his chin with the other.
“no really, scout’s honor,” cat lad whispers, and when did he get so close? when did robin let him? why did he let him? he swallows, throat bobbing, his nunchucks forgotten and the sold painting and the evidence underfoot with cat lad’s sparkling eyes looking right past the mask and into his soul.
“liar liar liar,” robin murmurs, swaying close without meaning to. “god. you’re the only case that gives me trouble. leaves me stumped. you know that?”
“yeah.”
“you know you drive me crazy?”
“‘course i do, honey. you’re robin. you’re smart.” and cat lad is leaning in and they’re so close, this is a bad idea, this is the worst possible idea robin could ever have. cat lad pauses. grins. “but i’m smarter,” he mutters, smiling like the cat who got the cream. and then he kisses him.
and well, what’s one bad decision, in the grand scheme of things? it’s not like bruce is any better, so really, bernard is not some stupid rebel kid, he’s a product of his role models, or something. the apple and the tree and all that, and wow, this is bernard’s first kiss and it’s with a boy and it’s with a thief and he’s wearing the mask and as he absently hooks his nunchucks at his waist and cups cat lad’s face, he thinks this boy is the best thing he’s ever tasted.
oh yeah. he’s so fucked. so utterly, incredibly fucked.
Thinking about star sapphire Bernard again, and wouldn't that be so fun? The idea of Bernard becoming a hero, pre-The Talk (about Tim being Robin and him knowing Tim is Robin), and now keeping a secret from Tim?
Tim, who tries his best even though he is very bad at it, to hide the fact he's a vigilante. Who does his best, but ends up ditching Bernard on so many dates and makes a million excuses they both know are bs. Who is trying so hard to make it up to Bernard and KNOWS what it looks like but is trying to be the best, even if he has to keep secrets.
And now... Bernard is getting distant. Not in a super noticeable way,,, but in the same way Tim is. He's ditching dates, he's leaving abruptly with a bad excuse, he's MIA for hours to days and comes back with little explanation, but lots of reassurance and love. He's not distant emotionally, but there's walls up. There's SOMETHING he's not being told.
Tim starts to get scared. What is he doing? There's no new blond vigilantes in Gotham, so he hasn't picked up a mask or anything. He'd known just by Bernard's behavior and habits if it was something about the children of Dionysus...
What was so important that he had to keep missing dates??? Cancelling on him, losing sleep, leaving abruptly, not calling as much- but Bernard still didn't look like he wanted to break up with him! If Tim had really done something that bad then Bernard would've-
Oh god. Oh no. Is he a rogue? Was his boyfriend picked up by a rogue? Was Bernard in danger?? He had some new bruises, maybe he was fighting people. Oh god.
And that results in a very funny situation of Bernard being star sapphire, working for the corps, bonding with Carol (if I may throw her in the mix), and knowing Tim is Robin while Tim is lost on everything.
happy pride!! dont u love how kon and serling stayed in touch forever and hang out all the time and are still best friends
No I do think I’m fucking hilarious and I’m reposting my own edit from like. A week ago.
theyre saying you have to go to work again tomorrow even though you just went today
