#different pov

[beebopboom]

just gonna throw this out there for people who have bigger brains than me

I know it has been talked about the differing pov’s of the minisodes

what if - and just hear me out - one side is the events leading up to Armageddon and the other is (because Adam reset reality) the events leading up to the Second Coming 

[flywolfwriting]

Throw Me in the Deep End - BONUS!

The votes were in and here's the confrontation from Alastor's point of view! I originally posted it with a reblog of the poll, but decided it would be better on its own.

Here ya go!

-------

Alastor leaned on the stool, one foot still on the ground and the other on the footrest, and waited for the man to pluck up the courage to approach him. One arm rested on the clubtop, fingertips tapping the side of his glass of rye. “What have you told him?”

Husker glanced up. “Nothin’,” he said.

Alastor hummed, considering his drink and watching the far end of the club from the corner of his eye. The other man was far less subtle. Finally he threw back whatever was in his glass and joined them.

“Let me buy you a drink?” he said.

Alastor slowly turned on his stool to look him up and down. He was short, barely reaching Alastor’s shoulders, and while he looked a mess, the way he held himself suggested it was an act. Alastor knew better, too; he knew exactly who this man was and why he was interested in him. “Mmm, I think not,” he said with a condescending smile. He finished his rye and stood to leave.

The man flushed. “I want to see Charlie,” he said, and Alastor froze.

His smile sharpened as he turned back around. “What did you say?”

The man lifted his chin. His eyes gleamed in triumph. “Charlie,” he said. “My daughter.”

Husker attempted to subtly slide away but a quick glare from his employer pinned him in place. He began scrubbing at a glass.

Alastor returned to the bar but didn’t sit, instead looming over the smaller man. “And how, pray tell, do you know my daughter?”

Lucifer’s face pulled into a scowling grimace. “I can recognize my own child, even if it’s been nearly a decade since you kidnapped her.”

“I did no such thing,” Alastor said smoothly, still smiling, “though I wonder what your intentions are, if you’ve been staking out a club to see her again.”

Something flickered over his face. “I was waiting for you, actually.”

“What led you to believe I would come back?”

Lucifer tilted his head toward Husker. “He said you’re his boss. Of course you’d come back eventually.”

Alastor looked up at Husker, his smile shifting into something more dangerous. “Did he now,” he said, almost sweetly. The bartender didn’t look up from the glass he was polishing, but Alastor could see sweat beading on his brow.

“I want to know how you came to have her, and I want her back,” Lucifer said, and when Alastor returned his gaze to him he looked uncomfortable, glancing between him and Husker. He had to commend the smaller man; despite his obvious nerves his voice remained steady.

“She’s mine,” Alastor purred, leaning down to speak directly into Lucifer’s so as to not be overheard, “and if I catch you anywhere near my daughter I will cut out your liver and make you eat it.”

When he stood upright again he was still wearing that easy smile, and Lucifer had gone pale and trembled slightly, but defiant rage smoldered in his eyes and there was a stubborn set to his jaw.

“I’d say it was a pleasure, but I’d be lying,” Alastor said, turning once again to leave. “Husker, I expect you at the house tonight.”

He received a grunt of assent.

This time he was not called back as he walked away.

-------

Beginning | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5

[batri-jopa]

Cinema Therapy - Therapist Reacts to Wolf Children (2012)

Alan: I think everyone has felt like the outcast at some point. In some way, you've felt like, I'm different and people aren't going to accept me. And most of the time we feel that pretty strongly as kids for something.

This kid looks at storybooks and instead of reading the little morality play or whatever, he's like: Why do they all hate the wolves? Obviously he is a wolf, so he's thinking about himself, but he's also seeing a completely dufferent side of the story. It really resonates with me because my own son, who does the same thing. But it's also just... I think there's something universal in that. His response is: I don't want to be a wolf. Like: I don't want to be what I am, because people won't like it.

Jono: We fear difference and we form communities based on similarities, right? And so we're similar, so we should be together. But then, automatically, those who are dissimilar are outside.

Alan: Right

Jono: And we fear the other, you know, instead of embracing or learning from the other. And it's a hard thing, because when you're an outcast, you think the problem is you instead of embracing that: No, this is everybody else.

[morganatique9]

can i ask for a perspective flip of any other character besides lexi or cassie for the freaky friday fic? 💕

oooh yes, i got you! thanks for the ask <3

Perspective Flip: I’ll write a scene from I see right through me from another character’s point-of-view

So I'm going to write the scene when Cassie and Lexi wake up on Friday morning and realize they switched bodies (in chapter 1) but from Suze's perspective! :D

The sun is already shining its brightest light on this early morning when Suze drags her feet to the kitchen, eager for the caffeinated drink she needs to get the day properly started.

The middle-aged woman still feels drowsy as she pours the coffee powder in the filter. Then, out of nowhere, she hears a shrill cry that sounds like it's coming right from the house. She jumps, spilling half of her spoonful of coffee next to the coffee maker.

"What the fuck..." Suze mumbles to herself.

Promptly, she shrugs it off, thinking she's probably still sleepy and imagining things. Therefore, she resumes her activity, breathing in the strong smell of beans that she's currently craving.

Suddenly, another chilly scream rings out, and this time, she has no doubt it's coming from her daughters' bedroom.

"Oh, these two are going to be the fucking death of me," Suze grumbles before heading to the hallway and looking up to the second floor.

"What the hell's going on there?" the mother angrily asks in a shout. "Don’t tell me you’re already fighting when I didn’t even have my coffee yet!”

And she means it. Suze has been putting up with Lexi and Cassie's recurring fights and melodrama, she has even tried to fix it, unsucessfully so, obviously. But there are limits, and Suze draws the line at yelling in the morning and delaying the sacred moment when the hot beverage touches her lips.

There's a floating time until she eventually hears an answer. She recognizes Cassie's voice as she's saying: "There… was a spider in our room, that’s all." The young girl sounds helpless and alarmed. “We’re okay.”

Suze scoffs, and frankly, she shouldn't even be surprised the girls would make such a big deal out of a probably tiny insect. Displeased, she puts her hands on her sides in a very annoyed-soccer-mom style before getting ready to scold her children.

"Alright, glad to know the poor little thing didn’t eat the both of you. Now, get dressed and come have breakfast before you’re both late for school.”

Suze doesn't wait for an answer to roll her eyes and walk back to the kitchen.

[bitletsanddrabbles]

In Other News...

WHY THE HELL DO I SPEND SO MUCH TIME WRITING ABOUT PEOPLE WITH BABIES?!?!? This is something I have neither experience or interest in, and yet!

...that and being drunk, or at least slightly tipsy, I swear!

I need a good plot about people drinking tea and playing with cats. >_<

[cubbyhole-for-flea-bee]

Macaque spent the whole season Big-Damn-Hero-ing and was NOT happy about it xD

[gun-roswell]

Happy Valentine’s Day? Why not?

Happy Valentine’s Day? Why not? The love shared upon this day might be a little bit  overwhelmingAt least for a soul somewhat having prepared to be their precious time alone spending Alas, when entering the glorious and often times anonymous World Wide WebThe eyes are certainly fixed on the plethora of greetings and wishes there sentBy he colourful tableau of cards in bits and bytes capturing…

[bunnybearblogs]

The Bank Robbery

Alan Third Person POV

Alan had always loved action movies. Ever since he was a little boy he would watch every new action movie that came out with his father. He loved the strong and cool protagonist that always saved the day. One of his favorites was Die Hard. He would imagine himself as Bruce Willis crawling through the vents in the Nakatomi Plaza or as Matt Damon fighting off Treadstone operatives with only a pen. His role models included figures like Jackie Chan, Bruce Lee, Chuck Norris, and Liam Neeson. 

It was no surprise to his parents when he begged for karate lessons at age ten- only to stop attending when he was thirteen. In high school he took up parkour with a group of friends. They would be found nearly everyday after school and on weekends running around downtown jumping across rails and flipping over small flights of stairs. His dream was to be a stuntman or maybe a cop. A CSI or FBI agent was cool too. 

However, currently, Alan works in the stocking and unloading department at the local Walmart. He never quite got around to applying for the police academy and getting jobs as a stuntman were harder than he thought. He’ll definitely get around to achieving his dreams… someday. With his hero complex, it would serve as no surprise to those that knew Alan that when he somehow found himself in the middle of a bank robbery that he actually felt a bit of a thrill.

It was a quite normal Saturday morning at the bank. Alan stood in line with countless others waiting for a teller to open and conduct their business. There were only two tellers working this morning and seven people including Alan waiting to make deposits. There was an older couple with gray hair at one teller, taking forever since they both forgot their reading glasses and couldn’t hear worth a damn it seemed. At the other teller stood a frazzled looking mother in a server uniform trying to deposit some of her tip money while keeping her toddler wrangled. Alan was third in line, right behind a man in a business suit and a woman drinking a Starbucks coffee while scrolling through her phone. Behind him was another mother with her teenage daughter. Alan overheard that the girl would be opening her first checking account. How fun.

The quite normal Saturday morning turned quite abnormal in the span of a couple minutes. No one saw them come in, but they did notice once the guns came out and demands to get on the ground were yelled. The mothers were the quickest to move. The mother with the toddler had her child in her arms in seconds flat and was cowering against a wall, using her body to shield her kid. The other mother was huddled on the ground off to the side, clinging to her teenage daughter. Alan and the two people in front of him had gotten down where they stood while the older couple sunk down into some nearby chairs. Come on, they’re old, if they got down on the ground it would take forever to get them back up. 

Alan could feel the blood rushing through his veins and pounding in his ears. Nothing ever happened on this side of town. Not really. So this sudden robbery was quite the surprise. This was the kind of thing you heard about on the news! It was only two men, one quite bulky with muscle and the other more on the scrawny side. Both were wearing those ridiculous ski masks that you always saw in movies or T.V. shows. Looking to the tellers, Alan saw that they looked fairly calm for people who had a gun trained on them. Perhaps they were trained for this sort of scenario?

The two robbers began demanding money from the tellers. Whatever they had in their tills. Was there a silent panic button under the desks like in the movies? Did one of them already press it? Alan eyed the two robbers. The bigger one was focused on the tellers and getting them to put money in the duffle bag he carried. Scrawny man was watching everyone else in the bank, making sure none of them moved or tried anything funny like making a phone call. If he moved quick enough, he could knock the scrawny guy out and use his gun against that bigger guy. Isn’t that what they do in the movies? Alan had seen it dozens of times before and he vaguely recalled the moves for disarming someone from his days in karate. It had to be like riding a bike, the muscle memory would kick in right? (Note to the readers, it does not.)

Alan began mentally planning his course of attack and hyping himself up. The woman with the Starbucks must have seen something in his eyes and figured out what he was going to do. She shook her head and tried to silently warn him not to do anything. But Alan was sure in his thinking. This could be his chance to be a hero. Get his name in the papers. Maybe it could even lead to one of his dream jobs! So, resolute, Alan readied himself to be the hero. 

As Scrawny paced by, looking away from Alan at the mother and daughter duo, Alan leapt to his feet and reached for the gun. The sudden movement caught Scrawny off-guard and he let out a startled yell as Alan rammed a shoulder into the guy’s arm. Alan fumbled while trying to wrestle the gun away from Scrawny and the comotion drew the attention of the bigger guy. There were several screams and yells from the other patrons of the bank as they scrambled for cover. No one wanted to be the one to get hit with a stray bullet when the gun went off during their wrestling match.

 Alan couldn’t hear much past the blood roaring in his ears and so didn’t pay much mind when Big Guy yelled at him to stop. Big Guy couldn’t shoot at Alan without possibly hitting his partner who was still wrestling with him. Alan quickly realized his muscle memory wouldn’t be kicking in and just went off instinct. He bit down on Scrawny’s hand until he released the gun. Scrawny staggered backwards, holding his bleeding hand. Alan fumbled to hold the gun correctly now that he was in possession of it. Meanwhile Big Guy was taking aim at Alan now that his partner was separated from Alan. 

There was a series of shots heard. Alan wasn’t sure who fired first or if he even shot at all. He only remembered hearing two nearly simultaneous shots, the screams of everyone in the bank, then feeling the impact of something hitting him in the lower right part of his abdomen. It took a few seconds for the reality of what happened to register and his brain to process it. Big Guy had shot him. Alan expected it to hurt a lot more. In movies they were always writhing on the ground in pain. 

Once the shock of the initial hit did pass, Alan felt a fierce burning pain in his abdomen where the bullet entered and tore through him. He stumbled back a step before he found himself on the ground. Alan became acutely aware of the sounds around him. The toddler was wailing, the teenager was hyperventilating, there was someone else groaning, and in the distance Alan could hear sirens approaching. 

“You know, you’re incredibly foolish.” Alan focused on where those words were coming from. It was the Starbucks woman. She looked exacerbated and more than a little tense. Kneeling next to him, she used someone’s jacket to press down on his wound. It stung like a bitch. Alan hissed out in pain but the woman kept pressure. 

“What about those guys?” Alan’s words sounded a bit slurred to his own ears.

“I shot the big one. Little one is cuffed.” Her words didn’t make sense. She shot Big Guy? Alan looked over the woman, trying to believe her words. There, attached to her belt was a shiny badge. Next to that on her hip was a holster for her gun. She was a detective. That was certainly a twist of events.

“Now just lay still. The ambulance will be here in a few minutes. Looks like you’re going to be okay.” Alan nodded mutely. He certainly didn’t feel okay. “Also, for future reference, don’t try that T.V. cowboy shit again. Just let the professionals handle it.”

First Person POV

Just this last errand at the bank and I get to go home. It had been a long week at the precinct and I was ready to not worry about homicides and burglaries for the next few days. I took a sip of my coffee and scrolled through my social media to pass the time. The elderly couple at teller one was taking a while. It must be so hard getting old and having your vision and hearing fade. Meanwhile at teller two that mother looked stressed beyond her limits dealing with her rambunctious toddler. I sent up a silent thank you to whoever was listening that I didn’t have any children to stress me out. My job does that enough. 

“Everybody don’t move! Get on the ground!” The sudden yell nearly made me drop my Starbucks cup. That would have been a true crime. I carefully lowered myself to the floor as I eyed the two gunmen who entered. One about six foot two, likely about 200-220 lbs, muscular build, caucasian, tattoo of a skull on his right hand. The other five-five, maybe 180 lbs, also caucasian, scrawny build, tattoo on his neck. Both wearing dark clothes and black ski masks. 

I filed all this away for the report and statement I would have to make later. For now, best to just let them take the money and let them leave. It was the smartest option. The tellers would have already buzzed the silent alarm and dispatch would be sending a squadron of cars to this location. The robbers wouldn’t be getting far. So long as there’s no immediate threat to the lives of one of the other bank goers then it’ll be fine. 

Good thing I had my gun and badge with me even though I’m off-duty. I had nearly left them both at home but something told me to have them on me today. Always listen to your gut.  That’s what my granddad always said.  

I took a look at the others. The older couple were sitting in chairs across the room. The woman’s hands were shaking and her husband seemed to be trying to silently comfort her. In the corner behind me was the mother with the toddler. She had the child cradled to her, quietly shushing the toddler and rocking slightly to keep them calm. The business man that was in front of me looked ready to shit himself. The teenager was near hyperventilating while her mom held her quietly. Now for this last guy.

Wait… why does he look like he’s about to do something stupid? I could see a foolish determination in his eyes as he watched the smaller of the two robbers pace around the floor. Oh no, don’t tell me he’s thinking of being some sort of hero. He’s just going to get himself killed. I managed to catch his eye and started shaking my head. Don’t move. Just stay down. I tried to mouth to him but that just seemed to spur him on. Well shit. This guy is either brave or foolish. Probably both. I shifted my weight to my feet as subtly as I could. I had a feeling shit was about to hit the fan soon. 

Honestly, sometimes I hate being right. Shit did hit the fan. The young guy jumped up at the smaller robber and began trying to wrestle the gun out of his hands. This wouldn’t end well. I tried keeping an eye on both the two wrestling for the gun and the bigger robber who’s attention was drawn by the commotion. I watched as the young guy bit into the robber’s hand and finally win the wrestle for the gun. The bigger robber was now aiming his gun at Mr. Hero and I knew it was time to act. 

Just as the robber was about to fire, I popped up as I drew my gun and squeezed the trigger. Two shots went off. Mine and the robber’s. My shot landed in the leftside of his chest. The bigger guy went down. So did Mr. Hero. Seems he got hit. The smaller guy panicked and attempted to run before seeing I had my gun trained on him. In just a few moments I had him cuffed and on the ground. Time to deal with our little Hero over here.

“You know, you’re incredibly foolish.” I walk over to the downed man and quickly assess the situation. One shot to the lower abdomen, can’t tell if there is an exit wound. I slip off my jacket and ball it up before pressing firmly over the bullet wound. The guy let out a hiss of pain, but at least he was conscious.

“What about those guys?” His words were a bit slurred but that could just be because of the shock and pain.

“I shot the big one. Little one is cuffed. Now just lay still. The ambulance will be here in a few minutes. Looks like you’re going to be okay.” I figured it was a good sign if he was awake and able to speak. I could already hear the sirens getting closer. They would be here within moments and officers would take over the scene. Paramedics would see to this guy and the bigger robber.

 “Also, for future reference, don’t try that T.V. cowboy shit again. Just let the professionals handle it.”

[shrimpchipsss]

reverse transmigration for dove for SVSSSAction!

[sofipitch]

Gideon the Ninth is technically a murder mystery whodunnit except instead of collecting clues and solving the murder everyone is just like "Hmmm Gross. Yikes.... anyways back to our little tasks"

[radishearts]

Girls who don’t draw for like a week and have to relearn their artstyle it’s me Im girls this happens every few months 😔🙏

Anyways EVO/lifers crew bc I love them and. And. I watched Solarocks ‘Watcher, Tell me So I say.’ PMV (DEF RECCO. REALLY COOL).

[polarisbear]

guardian angel to the rescue!

[sebandmia]

one of the craziest scenes in challengers is when tashi and patrick are making out in her dorm and talking about how good art is like how good looking he is, how much better he’s gotten at tennis. i would almost argue that they both did everything For him in the end

[envyenvys]

do you mind..?

[lvl100hummuswarrior]

mortified <3

[dcxdpdabbles]

Finders Keepers

"Do not forget that the new groundskeeper is scheduled to arrive today at noon. I expect everyone to be courteous and to clean up their nighttime rubbish before his arrival," Alfred reminds them as they struggle to sit through breakfast.

Last night's patrol was brutal, and everyone was a bit bruised up and sore, not to mention that most only got an hour or so of sleep.

They collectively groan- except for Bruce and Damian, but neither count as full humans anyway, no matter what their DNA says otherwise.

Tim, in particular, is rubbing his hands down his face. "But Alfred, today's my only day off for the next six weeks!"

"I fail to see how your poor time management will change the outcome of doing your chores, Master Tim," The butler states. Tim cowards instantly at the sight of that arched brow on his grandfather's face and melts into his seat.

Pleased, Alfred taps his wristwatch. "You all have three hours. Better get to it."

They scatter. Bruce runs to his office to clean up all his paperwork, knowing some purchases were not Wayne Industries. Jason hits the multiple garages to ensure nothing bat-related is thrown in the toolboxes.

Dick is swinging by the handlers, taping his hands along the beams and pulling out hidden gadgets. Cass and Duke are walking on the roofs, double-checking the boobytraps.

Steph and Damian have offered to patrol the Batcave and the connecting tunnels to ensure the motion sensors are active.

Tim is told to walk along the property and make sure no surprise holes will appear. Bruce fell into the cave system when he was young, so the new groundskeeper might have the same fate. It's the more leisurely job since Bruce obsessively checks since it happened, but they all know Tim can barely keep his eyes open.

Tim doesn't mind because he must pat his bo staff on the ground, stomping his foot ever so often and scanning the environment with his wrist computer. He doesn't even bother to change out of his pajamas- an old pair of sweats and a baggy t-shirt Kon lent him when he once slept over and never returned. It's mostly just a walk, but it feels like an entirety to his sleep-deprived mind.

His eyelids are heavier than usual, every blink feels like a bag of sand, and he still has to check at least three-thirds of the Wayne Manor grounds.

He is wandering towards the east side of the property when he finds a very convenient bush shaped perfectly to block the sun and offer him a tiny nooch to snuggle into.

He glances back at the house and then at the time on his wrist computer. He has two hours and twenty minutes before the groundskeeper arrives.

"One short nap," Tim mutters, getting on his hands and knees to crawl into the bush. He twists to lie on his back, using his jacket as a pillow. His whole body fits inside, so Alfred will likely not catch him. The scrub is soft, and Tim relaxes into his protective shade. "I'll get up in a bit."

The wind blowing through the trees and the bushes around him lures him to sleep.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Hey"

A voice cuts through his dream of jumping over the city, chasing after his family but maskless. They weren't running around the roofs fighting a good fight; the Waynes in his dream were just spending time together. Laughing. Goodnaturely teasing.

It's wonderful.

It's everything he's ever wanted.

It's slowly disappearing as he is coming back to consciousness.

Tim groans, trying to roll over and return to the dream, but the voice speaks again. "Hey, man, you can't sleep here."

A hand clamps on his shoulder, giving him a gentle shake. Tim mutters, weakly swapping it away. "No. No. No."

"Come one, man, I can't have the big boss see you. It's my first day, and I don't want to get fired because I let some guy sleep in his yard." The voice continues, sounding pleasing and guilty.

Tim whimpers, rubbing his face against the cold hard ground. "No. No. No. Please, I just want to sleep. I'm not hurting anybody."

"Ancients....okay. Okay. Listen, I will let you sleep a little longer while I work. I'll finish mowing the yards and trim all the bushes. That should be at least five hours. I must move you if you're still here when I return."

Tim doesn't answer, too busy slipping back into his sleep as a hand gently runs through his hair. He snuggles into the warm palm with a sigh.

Someone gulps. "I'm in trouble, aren't I?"

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tim snaps his eyes open to see that everything is pitch dark. Oh crude!

How long has he been asleep? What time is it? Was Alfred going to kill him!? What was he thinking?

Of course, Alfred would kill him, and unlike Jason or Damiman, the elder would not fail. In fact, from what Tim could make out in the darkness, a man was standing over him wearing white gloves.

He found me! Tim thinks historically. I didn't even have time to run!

The white gloves move closer as if they were going to touch him. He leaps up with a scream, and a man falls over.

"Woah! Woah! Hey, it's okay, I'm not a cop!" The stranger- not Alfred- shouts. Tim pauses, then lets out a louder scream. The man rushes forward to slam his hands against Tim's mouth.

He glances frantically at the manor- it's too far away to see anyone since Tim chose to nap at the very edge of the vast land Bruce's ancestors purchased.- before hissing. "Could you keep it down? Look, I let you sleep long enough; you must move."

Tim blinks owlish at him. His mind is fuzzy- shit, was he hit with something last night? He couldn't remember.- but he thinks he knows him.

Dark Hair.

Blue Eyes.

Pretty facial features.

Oh, it's one of his brothers. Dick? Yeah, it's Dick. Has to be. Tim is sure. He can't think clearly now, but he knows his eldest brother. This guy has the same color eyes. It's him.

Does Dick know he is Tim's brother? Does he know who he is?

"Dick," He tells the man in jeans overalls, just in case he forgets his name. His brother frowns.

"I know. I hate to do it, okay? But you can't sleep here."

"I can't?"

"No, dude."

"Where can I sleep?"

Dick sighs. "I think there is a shelter that-"

"Take me home."

Dick pauses, taken aback. "What?"

Tim leans forward, resting his head on his brother's shoulder. "I'm tired. I want to go home."

"Where do you live? Is there someone I can contact for you?" Dick asks in high pitched voice, seemingly uncomfortable by Tim's closeness but too bad. Tim never gets enough hugs, so he must deal with it because he wants hugs now.

"No, I want to go home with you!" He whines, and the world starts to spin. Quickly closing his eyes against the nausea, Tim tries to hide further into Dick's shoulder. "Take me home with you."

Dick is quiet for a long moment before he slumps. Carefully, he reaches up to pet Tim's hair, and it's so comforting that he almost falls back to sleep. "I'm going to regret this, but something in my core tells me to do what you say. You wouldn't happen to know a Clockwork, would you?"

Tim shakes his head.

"Right. Okay, taking a homeless stranger I found in the Waynor Manor bushes. Seems on-brand to me. Let's go."

Tim follows.

Who was he following? He doesn't remember, but when he climbs into a van with the words "Phantom Groundskeeping," he doesn't feel worried.

In fact, once he's buckled in, head leaning against the window and pulling his legs up to his chest, he feels oddly protected. The driver of the van is also beautiful.

Like wow. Talk about a work of art.

"I love you," He tells the man, who laughs, flickering blue sad eyes at him.

"Thanks. Take a nap. I think you should sleep off whatever your on and then I can get you some help."

"Do you love me too?"

"....sure. Go to sleep now."

"Will I die?"

"What?"

Tim can feel the word fading away, which is terrible; he knows it is but can't remember why. He just knows that when it disappears, he'll never wake up again. He tells the stranger as such, voice just barely above a whisper.

Glowing green eyes snap to him in alarm, and a small breath of blue leaves the stranger's mouth. Tim thinks he's slowly gaining a hint of horror, but his body begs him to sleep.

Tim blinks once, then twice, as the stranger's mouth opens and closes before he snaps his eyes to the road. "What a time to go mad."

The diver's grip on his steering wheel tightens, but Tim can barely keep his eyes open, so he can't see the gorgeous stranger's face as he whispers. "No. I won't let you die. Just....just sleep, okay? I'll figure it out."

Tim does.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Crap!" Jason yells, running up the stairs from the Batcave. In his hand are the test results for the standard toxicity screening they all undergo whenever they fight someone who even remotely deals with drugs.

Everyone was too tired to look at them properly, which means they all missed that Tim's blood was covered in what looked like a blend of Poison Ivy's love pollen and some kind of sleep-inducing strain.

Tim is out there, somewhere tripping balls or cuddling up to a stranger or unconscious, slowly slipping into a coma. They all thought he bailed on his work and deserved a day off so no one bothered to go after him.

Now Tim could be dead.

He rounds the large hall, his stomping footsteps barely covering the sounds of Alfred's smooth voice.

"It seems the groundskeeper is asking for a week off already. He just got married and-"

"Crap! Crap! Crap! Bruce!" He shouts, slamming the door of his dad's office open. His grandfather and father both turn sharply to him, and neither misses the paper that Jason throws. Their eyes widen in horror when they read what's on the report. "We need to find Tim!"

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jazz wakes to find a half-dressed stranger curled around Danny, a ghost contract with drying blood on the ground, and a hastily made banner that reads "Happy Elopement!" thrown on the wall.

The living room looks like a confetti bomb went off in it. Did she miss a party being hosted in her own house? While sleeping in the room next door?

Johnny- her ex and surprisingly good friend after he stop bothering her brother- is sitting cross-legged, eyes glued on the TV.

"What. The. Fuck." Jazz asks, walking over to pour herself a cup of coffee.

"Morning," Johnny replies without so much as turning around. Since Jazz helped plan his and Kitty's wedding, the ghost becomes a brother to the Fentons. "Danny eloped."

"I figured as much by the banner." She mutters, walking over to the couch his brother and her new brother-in-law occupy. She stares at the stranger. He looked....familiar?

"Yeah, don't know all the details, but I guess his hubby was dying, so Danny pulled a Ghost King contract out of his ass and saved him by passing on his healing factor after they were hitched," Johnny says. Jazz takes a sip of her coffee. "I think he thinks he can divorce him or something. But till death due us part doesn't apply to Halfas. They're married forever, even in life or death."

"Shit." Jazz sighs. "Danny got himself into another situation. And he was doing so well recently, too. Became a groundskeeper for the Waynes and everything."

"Waynes pay well?"

"Danny could have paid off my student loans in four paychecks."

"Damn." Johnny whistles. Just then, Kitty floats through the wall wearing a red bathing robe. Jazz will never get used to the fact ghosts could look so human in the morning, with their messy hair and dazed expression. "Morning, babe."

"Morning," Kitty mumbles, leaning down to kiss Johnny. She glances at Danny and smiles. "They're so cute. I'm so happy Danny found his Core Mate."

"Core Mate?" Jazz asks.

"Like a soulmate but more dead," Kitty explains. "They are scarce to find, but once your core finds what it wants, it's fated. That's probably why Danny married so quickly, even if it was to save a life he normally wouldn't have."

Jazz looks back at the boy wrapped around in Danny's arms. Her brother is holding him like he's the most precious thing in either world, even in his sleep, and she knows that no matter what she or anyone says, he's not going to give up- wait a minute.

The stranger moves slightly in his sleep, snuggling up against Danny more, and his hair falls out of his face.

Shit.

"That's Tim Drake. Danny stole away Tim Drake." She deadpans. "Danny went over to cut Bruce Wayne's yard and returned with his son to elop with."

"In one afternoon? I'm impressed." Johnny laughs. "He really said all services included."

"Don't be gross, Johnny," Kitty scolds, but she's smiling. Jazz just shakes her head, reaching down for the contract. She may as well read what kind of dead-brain idea her baby brother got involved with this time.