#cullen is having a bad time

[theluckywizard]

In the Shattering of Things, Ch. 75: Perseverance

Chapter Summary: Rose sets out to convince Cullen to stay with the Inquisition.

Fic Summary:

Lady Rose Trevelyan's idle, aristocratic life blinks out in a haze of irrelevance when the breach destroys the Conclave. She may be soft and coddled when she joins the Inquisition, but there's a fierceness inside her she's yet to fully recognize. Armed with only a few relevant skills and the mark that makes her a legend, she is thrust onto a path delivering hope where it’s long been scorched away and finds comfort in the grumpy, handsome stick in the mud charged with her protection and training. As she stumbles her way across southern Thedas, she begins to realize she's tangled at the center of machinations she barely understands, and she's not alone in that. Enter Hawke. Excerpt below the cut 👇

Scout Liska stands outside the door to Cullen’s office, bouncing one hand against the other as she watches me approach, whipped by the winds that funnel through the keep.

“Inquisitor—” she says, shaking her head.

“Scout?” I inquire.

“He’s— not in the best mood.”

“I imagine not,” I say, and then push inside past her feeble protest.

Shit. 

Maybe I should have listened. 

Cullen’s office is a wreck— his desk cleared, a chair tipped over, shards of green glass dispersed in a violent spray across the floor. There’s some kind of small wooden box cracked apart by the door, its contents scattered amongst strewn paperwork. I recognize the carving of Andraste on the inside and then the soft blue luminescence of lyrium splattered on the stone tile beside it. The whole place reeks of it, cloying like summer sorbet yet unpleasant and overwhelming.

Against the wall behind his desk, Cullen sits with his knees drawn up in front of him on the floor and his head hanging into his lap. It’s a sharp reminder of that late spring morning when he’d retreated from me, folded up tightly so the horrors of his past and any comfort couldn’t get to him. I can’t fully read his state as he is. He breathes forcefully through his nose, grasping fistfuls of his hair. Agitated yes. But angry? Aggressive? It’s hard to know given the state of his office. I can’t assume he’d want me to approach him, but I’m not backing away either. He needs someone.

“Cullen.” My voice cracks in my dry throat.

When he doesn’t answer, I kneel to wipe up the spilled lyrium with my handkerchief, knowing how the stink of it must haunt him at the moment. I’d thought he’d given it up, but perhaps they’re for emergencies. Hoping to clear the air of it, I toss the stinking rag out the southern door. Then I pick up the pieces of what I assume is his kit, a miscellany of foreign looking tools and a few small intact philters. I walk the box to his desk and then quietly start picking up papers, the right words and the wrong words tangling into an impossible knot in my mind.

I tip the chair upright and shake out the sheepskin to tuck into it, remembering how he’d procured it for me at one point. And then I attend to his journals, their pages curled awkwardly against the floor and stack them neatly on the corner of his desk. Next are the shards of glass, an empty bottle of wine, I suspect. 

“You once asked me what happened at Ferelden’s circle,” he rasps.

I set a piece of glass down on the pile I’ve been making and nod into it. While I’m tempted to look his way, he almost certainly doesn’t want to be seen.

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DAFF Tag List

@warpedlegacy | @rakshadow | @rosella-writes | @effelants | @bluewren

@breninarthur | @ar-lath-ma-cully | @dreadfutures | @plisuu |

@ir0n-angel | @inquisimer | @crackinglamb | @nirikeehan | @oxygenforthewicked |

@about2dance | @exalted-dawn-drabbles | @blarrghe | @delicatefade | @leggywillow

[lelianasbong]

i DO think it's going to be funny to watch the dragon age fandom explode when people finally get their hands on veilguard. and realize all of the companions have Opinions

[uniiiquehecrt]

Voice actors are NOT the same as actors.

It takes a specific kind of skill-set and training to be able to warp and meld the voice. It takes a certain kind of talent and dedication to hone that talent into the ability to meld the voice and invoke emotion with one's voice alone. Actors are used to using their voice secondarily to their body language and their facial expressions. It's all mirrored back on camera. They do have nuance. But it's a different kind of nuance and a different kind of training to produce that nuance.

Voice actors might get their likeness transposed on their character's design, and maybe their mannerisms might seep into the character's animation. But when it's all said and done: their presence is in their voice. They are bringing a character to life, showing that emotion in their voice, trying to keep a specific accent, drawl, pitch, tone in that voice and keep it consistent for their recording sessions.

The voice actor is like a classically trained musician who can play first chair in a competitive, world-renown orchestra. The actor (who fills the voice actor's role) is like a moot who played violin in beginner and intermediate high school orchestra and thinks they can get into Juilliard with that 2-4 years of experience.

This doesn't mean that the HS orchestra moot can't play. They can even be really good at it. Maybe they won competitions and sat first chair. But they are not in the same league as the person who's been training their whole lives and lives and breathes to hone their craft using the instrument and all of the training they've ever acquired to perfect it. They are not meant for the same roles. They are not in the same caliber. You do not hire the HS equivalent when you want to play complex music in a competitive orchestra.

Actors are not the same as voice actors.

And furthermore, actors - especially big name actors - taking the roles of animated characters for big budget films or TV pilots makes no sense anyways when - at least in the case of TV pilots - there's not a point to hiring a big budget actors anyways. That money could be used elsewhere (like paying your animators), and the talent that is brought onto the screen for X character could then be hired on to voice said character no recasting required.

I wouldn't say voice acting as a profession is in danger exactly, but it's certainly being disrespected and overlooked for celebrity clout, and this has ALWAYS been an issue. Shoot, even Robin Williams knew that much - which is why he tried so hard not to be used as a marketing chess piece for Aladdin and got royally pissed off when it happened anyways. People shouldn't go to any movie (but especially not animated films) because "oh famous actor is in it". People should go because it's a good movie and the voice acting is good.

People who honest to god think that voice actors are replaceable because "oh well anyone can voice act" or "I like xyz celebrity so naturally it'll be good" ... Honestly I just wish you'd reassess your priorities because you're missing the point and are part of the problem.

Voice Actors ≠ Actors.

[iniziare]

Tag drop: Dorian Pavus

[warpedlegacywrites]

Chapter 6: "Residue"

They finally arrive in Kirkwall… a place to which Cullen had once vowed to never return. And it is both the same, and entirely different.

As they make their way along, Cullen moves as if through the veil of a dream, automatically adapting to Veritas’ motions in a detached rhythm, watching the scenery drift past as though it were moving, not him. The streets are nearly empty, thanks to the weather, adding to the unrealness of it all. A simulacrum, half-remembered, instead of a physical presence he can reach out and touch. 

Rain splatters across the uneven stones and their spiderweb cracks, in a long-forgotten lullabye. The shop fronts are dark, most of them old enough to have seen the original faces of the Old Gods carved into the cliffs, before Chantry influence began hacking away at them. The awnings that line the streets – meant to provide relief from nothing more solid than the sun’s heat – offer little protection against the downpour, but the few people out huddle futilely beneath them anyway. They shoot wary glances to the party as they pass, but ask no questions. They’re dressed in the favoured style of brightly dyed chitons that hang loosely from their shoulders. A colourful contrast from the drab grey-black of the surrounding architecture.  

It all floats by, like debris carried off by a swift current. Residue of his past, not so much forgotten as absent – the sort of things he’d never bothered to consciously notice before. Memory of the body, rather than the mind. 

How strange, this sense of not-quite deja vu. A nostalgia he resents rather than laments. He’d expected the city to feel like his nightmares, but he is the one who is haunted, shuffling through its labyrinthe like a shade of the man he’d once been. 

“What happened down at the docks?” Tess asks him, breaking him from his reverie. She keeps her gaze forward, but he feels her focus trained squarely on him. 

“Ran into an old friend,” he answers, evasive. It’s not even a lie, not really. He had considered Maurice a friend… once. “Another former templar.” 

She hums thoughtfully, but says nothing, waiting him out. Despite his mood, he has to admire the efficiency of her tactics. 

“It seems many of them have joined the city guard, since the dissolution of the Order and the Circles.” 

Her head snaps around to meet his, and he sees his own alarm reflected in her face. It’s oddly reassuring, a confirmation that his gut reaction was correct. 

“Well, that’s horrifying,” she declares, and he voices his agreement. 

And yet, infuriatingly, part of him sees the sense in it. A large group of skilled fighters, suddenly bereft of purpose and let loose on a city still recovering from mass violence? Taking them in had likely saved the city more troubles – an idle sword hand often found ways of creating its own necessity. He hates that he understands, that he can even imagine a time and a version of himself that would willingly endorse it. Even propose it. 

Hadn’t he once insisted that Theresa recruit the remaining Templars over the rebel mages? 

This self-reflection brings him face to face with a dilemma he hasn’t considered, though he should have. Very soon, she will be face to face with parts of himself she’s only ever heard him recount. How much will she see? And how will she see him , after? 

He imagines her look of alarm directed at him, rather than shared with him, and violently rejects it. She knows your past , he tries to remind himself, and she accepts you despite it.  

Yet he can’t help the pessimistic rebuke: It’s one thing to know… another to see.  

DAFF tag list: @rakshadow, @rosella-writes, @effelants, @bluewren, @breninarthur, @ar-lath-ma-cully, @dreadfutures, @ir0n-angel, @inquisimer, @crackinglamb, @theluckywizard, @nirikeehan @oxygenforthewicked, @exalted-dawn-drabbles, @melisusthewee, @blarrghe, @agentkatie

[vintageseawitch]

eddie boi was at the peak of "him being interesting in any way, shape or form" when he was feeding on baddies & he did more for the sake of humanity than the Cullen & Denali ✨️ecological disaster✨️ clans put together 🥰🧛‍♂️🩸

[theeflowerofcarnage]

finished dai like all the way so now i gotta lot of thoughts that i must let simmer in my mind on low heat while i play DA:O...and maybe DA: II

[cto10121]

Carlisle was the 16th century son of a Protestant preacher, Esme was an abused wife from Columbus, Ohio, Alice is from Biloxi, Mississippi, Jasper is from 19th century Houston, Texas, Edward was the son of a lawyer from Chicago in the 1910s, and Emmett is from Tennessee from a large Scotch-Irish family.

The Cullens are white asf and the fact that Hardwicke thought she could get away with telling Stephenie Meyer herself, of all people, that the Cullens should be cast as different ethnicities despite their canon appearance and backstories, speaks volumes as to her understanding of the story. Volumes.

[theluckywizard]

In the Shattering of Things, Ch. 66: Insolence

Summary: In the lead up to the peace talks at Halamshiral, Rose must navigate her strained, unresolved relationship with Cullen and settle into her role as leader as the consequences of her choices dog her and pressure to succeed mounts.

Fic Summary: Lady Rose Trevelyan's idle, aristocratic life blinks out in a haze of irrelevance when the breach destroys the Conclave. She may be soft and coddled when she joins the Inquisition, but there's a fierceness inside her she's yet to fully recognize. Armed with only a few relevant skills and the mark that makes her a legend, she is thrust onto a path delivering hope where it’s long been scorched away and finds comfort in the grumpy, handsome stick in the mud charged with her protection and training. As she stumbles her way across southern Thedas, she begins to realize she's tangled at the center of machinations she barely understands, and she's not alone in that. Enter Hawke.

Excerpt under the cut 👇

“Fifty-one royals? Leliana, please tell me that number is in error,” says Cullen, practically choking as he looks over the budget for the affair. We’d been circulating the paper, and though I’m only starting to grasp the scale of the debt we’ve accrued in repairing Skyhold and rebuilding our army, Leliana’s sum is astonishing.

“They’re well worth the money.”

“Five times the fee of the other two combined? Surely this money could be better spent. I could buy a dozen ballistas for that amount.”

“If you can root out an assassin and collect vital secrets at an Orlesian ball with ballistas, you may have an argument.”

“It’s outrageous.” Cullen has been surly since he walked in the door, his brow gathered in a permanent frown. He’s in a dark enough mood that I have no desire to look at him, but professional courtesy requires it. And by his pained glances in my direction, he’s making the same agonizing effort.

Leliana counters. “We’re not just buying the services of spies in the kitchen and the guard. It’s not cheap to secure the work of those who can finagle access to the ball and the talks proper. The man I’ve hired is bringing along his retired partner. They’re unmatched. Nor will they provoke suspicion. They belong at the ball more readily than any of us.”

“And who might these assets be?” Cullen asks. “Andraste’s mercy.”

“Bards. Actors. Fidencio Frye and his associate, Gaubert L’Incroyable.”

“Fidencio Frye?” breathes Josephine, her hand alighting on her breast like the name awakened her very soul. 

“I thought you’d be excited, Josie,” notes Leliana.

“What do we need to know about them?” I ask.

Josie answers in a rush of unfettered enthusiasm. “Fidencio’s performances are inspired. Breathtaking. I last saw him in Sévigny —I’ve seen that probably three times with different casts and no one brought such tortured authenticity to the role. No one.” I’m familiar with the play but not the actor himself.

“Profoundly useful,” remarks Cullen drily.

“It is actually,” argues Leliana. “Such capable acting is part and parcel to bard work. They’ll be eyes and ears in places we can’t quite access. There’s no magnet for secrets quite like celebrity. People will be itching to flaunt their knowledge to them. To ingratiate themselves. We need them.”

“It is thrilling, no?” says Josephine, glancing at me.

“I suppose this is what you have in mind for Hawke as well?” I ask, still avoiding Cullen’s scowling eyes. “I don’t see a line item for him.”

“Hawke is— something different,” says Leliana. Certainly an understatement. “He’s no bard. He’s got a useful set of talents though. We need distractions and a way to move information around the party undetected. Josie and I think he’s the man for the job.”

“And you’ve already asked him?” 

DAFF CREW TAG LIST

“Not yet. He and I— well. Let’s just say that I think you’ll be more persuasive than any of us, Rose,” says Leliana. It’s such a pointed remark that I glance at her twice. When her eyebrow twitches and the corner of her mouth turns I become certain that she knows. Maker, it’s Leliana . Perhaps she’s known all along.

Tagging @monocytogenes for allowing me to borrow her excellent bards Fidencio and Gaubert! You can read their stories here!

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@warpedlegacy | @rakshadow | @rosella-writes | @effelants | @bluewren | @breninarthur | @ar-lath-ma-cully | @dreadfutures |

@ir0n-angel | @inquisimer | @crackinglamb | @nirikeehan | @oxygenforthewicked | @about2dance | @exalted-dawn-drabbles | @melisusthewee | @blarrghe | @agentkatie | @delicatefade

[transannabeth]

*

[zmeydeva-arch]

people say misogyny has improved in the rpc and at large i would say sure but my god... the way some of y’all talk about your “best boy’s” canon female love interests just oozes hatred. you don’t keep that energy when the tables are turned and your male fave is actually the one acting up in the relationship. i think it’s totally fine to dislike a canon ship and choose to disregard it in your portrayal because you don’t think it serves the way you want to write your muse. although, when that choice is based on the fact that you are painting a woman as “abusive” when she maybe is, at best,  a little mean to the man in question you gotta step back and think about why you are interpreting her that way. also funny that two men can banter and you think that is cute and flirty but god forbid a woman get a bit quippy, now she is a villain! 

[goldeneyedgirl]

Do you have any plans to release more of vampires in vegas by chance? I was just thinking about that fic and how interesting jasper’s crawl back to carlisle would be

It is! It went through a major overhaul because it went a little too much in the Handmaid's Tale direction (in that Alice had very little will of her own, and Jasper was just too cold and unlikable in the situation), and less in the 'Jasper made a human connection and accidentally acquired a soulmate' direction, which was more of the story I wanted.

Plus the plotline needed some reinforcement, so I've had to redo the outline (it's fine, just some higher stakes for everyone). This is one of the drafts - I think it needs to be more emotional and dramatic, but here is the foundation!

It's the thing none of them want to talk about. Jasper's been gone for months, and no one has heard anything. He left his phone behind, and he hasn't sent them any messages through the usual channels. Esme was upset; on Jasper's few departures in the past - usually, when he was furious with himself for his struggles with his control - he hadn't been silent for so long. Esme was worried he'd gone back South. Rosalie was certain he wasn't coming back, and she was still too angry to be upset. Emmett was worried, but he remained tightlipped about whatever he knew - and Carlisle was certain there was something that Emmett wasn't saying. It was a fairly ordinary night in that they had all drifted into the living room sometime after midnight - Rosalie was curled in a chair working on blueprints for a car rebuild, whilst Esme was sketching out ideas for wallpaper she wanted to be printed. Emmett was playing with his new table, and Carlisle had a rather large pile of journals and research articles to read over that he'd let get away from him. The only one absent was Edward, who had left for Bella hours before. No one was expecting the house phone to ring - the hospital used Carlisle's cellphone, as did most of their friends and contacts. The house phone was there as a backup and for human contacts to reach them. It had never rung after ten at night before. "Probably a wrong number," Rosalie said, turning back to her project. "Probably," Esme agreed, already getting up to answer it. "Just in case," she said quickly when he looked at her. "It's such a strange time to call anyone." They're all listening to Esme walk into the foyer to pick up the phone. To the surprised "Oh!" at whoever was on the other end, and then Esme was back in the room holding out the phone. "Carlisle, it's Jasper." He's expecting a disaster, a slaughter, or a sudden demand for money and legal documents. An ice-cold conversation that leaves him uneasy and worried for Jasper's future. That's not what he gets. "Carlisle? I need help." -- The Nebraska house hasn't been used for decades, and it's still locked up tight. The furniture is still covered with sheets, and the smell is heavy and dust-scented. But it's somewhere they can stay out of the cold. Alice is so pale her lips look blue and she stopped talking days ago. She's sleeping so quickly when they stop, and he's relieved she can rest here for a few weeks. By the time he's turned the power and the water back on, Alice has fallen asleep on the sheet-covered couch, still wearing her coat and shoes. She's shivering and clutching her bag in her sleep, and he's genuinely getting worried. She looks more like a corpse than a human, and she hasn't eaten much in days. He doesn't know why he touches her, but he does - a hand on her forehead. Instead of being ice, she's burning and sweaty and that's much worse. There's no question for it - he was hoping bringing her here where she could rest would be enough but he's too late. He feels numb and ashamed when Esme answers and immediately passes the phone to Carlisle. This is all his fault. He... he bought a human being and dragged her around like luggage. Carlisle should be yelling at him, should be disgusted and enraged that there's a very sick girl on the couch, one with his initial branded into her side, and he's let this go on for so long. "It's okay Jasper. You need to get her some over-the-counter paracetamol and hydration drinks from a pharmacy. I will be there first thing in the morning. Esme will order some food and supplies to be delivered first thing." Carlisle's voice is even, already planning - no hard edge or frustration. Just building the road map out of this crisis. He wants Carlisle to yell, to call him disgusting. He wants to be able to yell back, that this isn't his fault, that he was trying to help her, get her out of the club and it just went to shit. Instead, Carlisle just promises he'll be there soon, that everything will be fine. Somehow, it makes him feel worse.

[bookwyrminspiration]

Quill I have a question about Twilight (yes I know I could google my questions but you explain what’s going on better than google)

Why is Edward going to high school in the first place? Like is there any specific reason or just plot convenience?

Cause hasn’t Edward been a vampire for centuries? So would he have been to high school before?

Also, was Edward around for any historical events? It’s very funny when I’m vampire stories the vampire is like “yeah I was at the French Revolution”.

-⚙️

No worries, I love explaining! Happy to be google in this instance. There is a reason given!

The Cullens are going to high school because the younger they pretend to be in any given area when they first move in, they longer they can stay. Since they were all turned young (Edward is youngest at 17, Esme oldest at 26), people start to notice when these teenagers/young adults continue to look like teenagers/young adults. There's a cap on how long they can get away with looking so young while claiming to be older before people start to notice and get suspicious, so to maximize the time they can stay in any one area, they first pretend to be younger.

About the youngest they can get away with is enrolling in high school, so they basically keep repeating high school again and again every time they move. Rosalie is not happy about it. Neither is Edward, actually, his book starts with him calling high school purgatory and complaining for several pages very melodramatically

And since Edward is only one century old, about, he hasn't been around for much. When he was human, he intended to join the army to fight in WWI, but died of Spanish influenza before he could. There isn't really mention of other historical world events, so I presume he either wasn't there or didn't bother to pay attention. I could see, say, Carlisle wanting to work as a medic in WW2 and so Edward being nearby while he did that, but not really participating. But generally, I can't recall Edward being anywhere important

I hope that helps answer your questions!!

[shivunin]

Ooook, what about [ WAIT ] for Salshira and Cullen?

[WAIT] from this prompt list. Thank you so much for the prompt!

During the day, the Inquisitor spent much of her time in motion: she practiced with Vivienne or Dorian, adjusting her techniques to coordinate with theirs. She spoke with the members of her Inner Circle and various other figures in the castle, checked on her horse, visited the undercroft, met with visitors, and sometimes, when she was lucky, she carved out enough time to visit the man she loved. 

Salshira jogged up the steps now, grinning at a young messenger as they passed each other on the stairs. The girl, who reminded Salshira painfully of herself when she’d been young, smiled tentatively back and continued down the stairs in a rush, her ears pink to the tips. Salshira laughed quietly to herself—because she’d have done the same at that age—and quickly combed her fingers through her hair before swinging open the door to Cullen’s office. She had a meeting in under fifteen minutes now, but perhaps he could take a moment to step onto the ramparts. 

Her hopes were dashed almost immediately upon opening the door, for the Commander was hunched over his desk, speaking rapidly to a pair of messengers. The first was scribbling furiously on her writing board, while the second leafed through reports and added them to the stack of pages already on his desk. 

“—cannot forget to check the area for signs of predatory wildlife this time,” he was saying, a frown etched between his brows, “It’s of vital importance that they settle in quickly and begin to search for the remaining encampments. Convey this in strong language.”

“Yes, Ser,” the messenger said, still writing quickly, “Is there anything else?”

“Not in this message,” he said, setting a page aside and lifting another, “Dismissed.” 

“Ser,” the second messenger said, holding out another sheaf of pages. Cullen sighed and reached for them without looking. 

Best not to interrupt, Salshira supposed. Anyway, she’d better make her way to the meeting room for the sake of poor Josie’s heart rate before she was late. Rather than turn around, Salshira headed for the door to the left, which would lead to Solas’s rotunda and the great hall. Before she’d taken three steps, she felt the pressure of a hand wrapped around her wrist. 

“Hold,” Cullen said, and gave the messenger an apologetic look. 

The dwarven woman sighed, rolling her eyes upward, and turned to face the corner. As soon as she started shuffling through her pages again, Cullen tugged Salshira closer and pressed a kiss to the knuckles of the hand he held. 

“I don’t have time to step away,” he murmured, running a thumb over her knuckles, “When are you finished today?” 

Salshira thought for a moment, twisting her mouth to one side. 

“Not until after dinner, I’m afraid,” she told him, “But I could pretend to be sick again. Or—oh! Horribly offended. That one is usually pretty funny, especially with the Orlesians.”

Cullen smiled faintly, but shook his head. 

“I’ll be here until I sleep,” he said, “Find me when you’re done?”

It might have been an instruction, but it was a request instead. She smiled at Cullen and squeezed his hand more tightly when he would have let her go. It was easy enough to use her grip as leverage to step forward and kiss his jaw—the most they really had time for right now—and he huffed when she pulled away. 

“When I’m done,” she agreed. Neither of them let go until her steps took her too close to the door outside and they couldn’t keep the contact any longer. 

The Commander was talking again before the door swung shut behind her. Salshira lifted her hand, ran a thumb over her knuckles, and smiled faintly for nobody at all.

[zialinart]

the worst part about my tendinitis is that I can’t make dragon age comics when that’s all I wanna do right now

[incorrectbatfam]

What does Tim say when people ask about his spleen?

Damian: I am updating my blackmail records. Tell me what happened to your spleen in its full hilarity.

Tim: I donated it to a sickly orphan.

Damian: You win this round.

———————

Tim: I have to be careful, I lost my spleen.

Carrie: How?

Tim: Aliens.

———————

Tim: I'm zero percent spleen and fifty-nine percent pizza sauce.

Helena: Zero percent spleen?

Tim: Yep. On the bright side, they named a disease after me.

———————

Luke: I've designed nanotech vitals trackers to be implanted on our spleens.

Tim: Oh, no thanks. I don't have one.

Luke: You don't have a spleen?

Tim: It wasn't paying rent so I evicted it. Lazy freeloader.

———————

Barbara: Why does your chart say you're missing a spleen?

Tim: I made a deal with the devil but I had a discount code so instead of my soul I just needed to sell a non-essential organ.

———————

Steph: What happened to your spleen? Are you okay?

Tim: I'm fine. It's taking an extended gap year.

———————

Harper: So... can I ask about your spleen?

Tim: Yeah, don't worry. I was part of a failed science experiment.

Cullen: What'd they do?

Tim: They injected me with a serum that was supposed to make me indestructible. But instead all I got were a spleen removal and chronic insomnia. And a free T-shirt.

Cullen:

Harper:

Cullen: Was it a nice shirt?

———————

Dick: What do you mean you don't have a spleen?!?

Tim: It was confiscated by airport security.

———————

Tim: Happy Pride! My spleen finally came out of the closet. And by closet I mean my body.

Kate: Diversity win.

———————

Tim and Jason: *arguing*

Jason: At least I still have my spleen!

Tim: It's genetic!

Jason: Sucks to be you.

Tim: We have the same dad. It could happen to you too.

Jason, scoffing: Whatever.

Jason, internally: Oh shit, he's right. I need to see Leslie.

———————

Tim and Bette: *sparring*

Bette: *hits Tim*

Tim: Ow. Time out. That was my spleenhole.

Bette: ...How?

Tim: It took a trip to the Titanic in a soup can with a Playstation controller.

———————

Duke: Since when did you have that scar?

Tim: Since losing my spleen last year.

Duke: How do you lose a spleen?

Tim: You forget to cherish it.

———————

Cass: ?

Tim: I digested it.

———————

Selina: You know I have to tell Bruce about this.

Tim: Okay, fine.

Tim: I had to get it removed as a kid after falling into a well of bats.

———————

Bruce: Tell me what happened to your spleen so Alfred and Leslie can give you the proper treatment.

Tim: What do you mean?

Bruce: Everyone's been telling me you don't have it.

Tim: Well, I do, so...

Bruce: Alright, I'll have a talk with them about bad taste pranks.

———————

Alfred: You can't keep the truth from me, Master Tim.

Tim: Assassins stole it.

Alfred: I wasn't born yesterday. Now what really happened?

Tim: ...