#hitman bernard

[nibordereht]

Will you be there tomorrow? | Hitman!Bernard AU

Summary:

The song that Tim and Bernard considered as their own caused them to wonder about each other's stay in their lives the next day. Tim was sure that Bernard would be there for him every morning for the rest of his life, and Bernard would make sure to make that a reality.

Will you be there? Tomorrow (Bernard Dowd / Tim Drake) by anyrobin in AO3

Bernard Dowd kept his temple pressed against the cold glass of the bay window on the overhang of the house, watching the snow that was slowly beginning to melt even under the cloudy dawn sky; he fiddled with the ice in the glass that still held a little whiskey and took the last sip without pausing to savor the taste. On the spot, his husband Tim appeared from behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder to catch his eye. 

"Mm, good morning," he said in a hoarse voice. His eyes weren't even fully open and his touch was still warm, fresh from between warm, expensive cotton blankets. 

Bernard sketched a smile and set the glass aside so he could stand up straight, stretch his neck and deposit a light kiss on his opponent's lips. Tim received it somewhat groggily and smiled as well, sitting down across from Bernard to receive his cool arms around his neck.

"You're up early."

"No more than you. The bed was starting to get cold without you." 

Neither added anything else. Tim's hands rubbed his husband's exposed knees, while the other slid his hands up to his wrists to soon after stop the action and entwine their fingers together with their eyes on the outside. The large plot of land they owned, formerly owned by Timothy's birth family, stretched for at least a couple of miles and the wooded plains covered in snow and frost were a perfect postcard to gaze upon each twilight.

"Bern?

The aforementioned didn't answer, closed his eyes and, after taking a soft inhale, began humming the beginning of a song. A delicate melody that must have come from a piano rather than the human voice submerged the room for a few seconds that Tim enjoyed with open eyes, but closed mouth. He knew the tune perfectly, from the rhythm it carried to its lyrics and meaning, it never failed to enrapture him, lowering his defenses for the relaxation and warmth in his chest. They sang it together their wedding night and would spontaneously repeat it when the mood was right, each time in a yearning, melancholy tone. «Tomorrow» didn't narrate a love story, let alone one comparable to theirs and perhaps even distanced itself from the reality they shared; nevertheless, they liked it. The best part was when it ended and, without needing to add anything, together they would look at each other and blurt out an affirmation. 

"Of course I'll be here with you and for you tomorrow and every day after that for the rest of your life, and I know you will be too for the rest of mine."

Bernard stopped humming and laughed without parting his lips. It was the first morning they had woken up together after their honeymoon and marriage, and he felt the need to hum that one to sweeten the other man's morning. He slid his hand to Tim's cheek and left a quick caress there before taking a deep breath and standing up.

"I'm going to kill a man today," he declared. 

Tim made a grimace that hinted at a smile. 

"So soon you have to work already? I thought you'd be off work for a while considering our situation." The opposite blinked questioningly and tilted his head, causing Tim to sigh as he stretched his legs. "We're newlyweds, I thought you had some time off or something and wouldn't be working. And I'm supposed to be the workaholic?"

"I'm always working, Tim. You know that better than anyone. And at least I sleep while I'm doing it instead of subsisting on energy drinks and pure caffeine."

Tim squinted and nudged him lightly with his elbow.

"Sure, I don't need your arguments, just go," he snorted, resigned. "I had to get back to work on my own code soon anyway. I'll wait for you with lunch." Bernard pursed his lips and averted his gaze. Tim rubbed his neck and stood up. "I see. It'll be with dinner, then."

"Thank you, darling."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Go now."

Unlike Tim, Bernard was already up and well dressed, so he immediately grabbed his jacket, deposited a kiss on his husband's temple, and ran to the car to get to work quickly before morning fully broke. He had to take advantage of the fact that the sun hadn't finished rising to be at his assignment site at a perfect time. 

Inside the car, a red 67 Impala that Tim guarded with his life before meeting Bernard and handing over the keys, he waved goodbye to the beautiful mountain view and its snow covered flora to soon pull away from the countryside and arrive at a town on the outskirts where the snow had long since finished melting and his next job awaited him. 

The mission was simple, nothing he wasn't used to. Steal the life of the man who would inherit a fortune worth millions that, according to the client, he didn't deserve without leaving any traces or suspicions behind. For his luck, nothing new or complicated, although perhaps it would be a bit bloody considering the story he would put together behind the crime. 

Target 107, as his most recent victim was named, had been followed and duped for a long time. The latest update was that he spent the night exactly where and with whom he was supposed to spend it, "unknowingly" following the plan to perfection. Now Bernard was only supposed to finish the job started by his colleagues, his part was always the dirtiest; there were those who prepared the ingredients and he was then the one who cooked them. Luckily, his part was also the best paid. 

Even with the sun struggling through the mountains to show its splendor, he parked the Impala outside a sleazy hotel where his target should never have been. It was all planned; his clerks had taken it upon themselves to send continuous messages to the target posing as an alleged lover despite the victim being engaged, and to also send her partner texts and images insinuating that they were being unfaithful. If everything went as it should (and it did), the two had spent the night together in that hotel, because to finish the job Bernard took it upon himself to send them fake and untraceable emails (courtesy of his husband's software) on behalf of the alleged lover so that they would end up meeting there.

From what the hitman understood, his target's partner was classified as submissive and tolerant in attitude, so even with all the evidence of a betrayal going on, there was almost no way he would carry out a crime of passion that would benefit the client, but that's what Bernard was there for. 

The cameras had been hacked by one of the few members of his team an hour after the entry of Target 107 and his scapegoat partner, in order not only to allow Bernard to enter in the morning without any problems, but also so that there would be no recorded records of the prime suspect's departure many hours before the murder was carried out. The receptionist, the only likely witness, would be dealt with later.

As it should be, his patsy had retired early, leaving his target alone and scorned in a hotel of ill repute and ready for Bernard to carry out the last phase of the plan. 

In general, he liked quick and, if possible, clean kills. He preferred headshots; quick and precise, with no more blood than a single puddle on the floor. Poison was clean, but it took long enough to have to see the victim's reaction to it and he hadn't been interested in that sort of thing for quite a few years. He had seen so many different deaths that over time he lost the satisfaction he felt when he saw faces full of fear and pain, now he only liked to finish everything quickly and get paid to continue drinking expensive liquors and leading a good and relaxed life of which he was not worthy. The road he had to travel until he could carry out a murder that left no traces or tears behind was sometimes tedious and required him to give his all, however, that was the part that bothered him the least, because when everything culminated he could go back to being the selfless person he always was and bask in luxuries like the big house in the mountains he now shared with Tim or the almost two million pounds sterling whiskey he was drinking at night. 

Already on the second and last floor of the hotel, he tapped twice with the knuckle of his index finger on the door of the room where his beloved victim was, giving himself a second to get into the role he would play in that murder, after all, Bernard was never Bernard while he was working. Today, at that moment, he was the fiancé of someone who happened to be being unfaithful to him, with his jealousy boiling and rage built up, ready to do whatever it took to make his partner pay for betraying him. So without waiting a second longer for permission, he entered the room and after making sure to lock it tight, jumped onto the bed where Target 107 was looking at him puzzled and denoting his fear in his facial expression. 

"Who the hell are you?" 

"The last face you'll ever see, sweetness."

ههههه

"Oh, I want to break free!" cried Bernard, thumping the steering wheel of the Impala. He was happy, happy enough to sing a Queen song at the top of his lungs as he cruised down the road. 

Luckily, the job was still satisfying from time to time. The screams of the victim as he beat his bloodied skull structure with a candlestick, struggling not to fall into unconsciousness, was something he didn't see as often anymore, so he took it upon himself to revel in every second until he was sure that Target 107 was no longer going to wake up again, but he also didn't overdo it too much or it wouldn't look so much like something not premeditated. The smile he drew on his lips at the image of the white nightgown stained in blood still remained on his face as he sang loudly. 

Twilight was an amazing sight for the soundtrack and emotion he carried with him. He was in high enough spirits to reach over and pour himself a glass of the lemonade Tim loved so much instead of a glass of wine.

His most recent mission, Target 107, had just become his one hundred and sixth successful homicide since he had been in the business. Of all the targets he had been assigned to that day, the only one he hadn't killed was Timothy Jackson Drake and instead had co-written a dramatic love story with him that if Tim's adopted brother Jason knew about, he would write a novel about it.

Like all his works or many of them, Tim was a rich kid whom his younger brother wanted out of the game so he could receive the full inheritance and the title of CEO of the family company without having to beg fruitlessly since, even though he was the rightful heir by blood, it was the eldest son, albeit a bastard, who got the better part in the end; however, taking him off the board would leave his father with no choice but to keep the fortune in the family through his son or by letting his outside shareholders wipe him out, enriching outsiders instead of his offspring, and that was hardly an alternative. That's when the Dowd micro-mafia entered the equation and resulted in a clean win for the young boy, but an unexpected outcome for Bernard and Target 102.   

When Bernard's planned assassination disguised as a mugging failed as he missed his chance to give Tim a clean shot to the temple inside his beloved 1967 red Impala and suspicions began to surface of a possible conspiracy against him, he was left with no choice but to come up with a new plan to make the guy disappear from the Wayne family line of succession. However, instead of eliminating him from the list of heirs, he let his own father disinherit him at the same time that Tim decided to renounce his family for love. A forbidden love with another man that his parents would not even have been slow to reject and disown, and which his adoptive father refused to accept when he learned of the dangerous ancestry of his son's lover, erasing his name from all records within days after he fled far away with Bernard. 

Of course, that happened some time after the suspicions of the misfired gunshot accident had completely vanished and love emerged to the point where the young master gave up his position of power in order to be with another man. All it took was, "Your brother hired me to kill you, Tim, that's why I approached you in the first place, but I couldn't do it because I fell in love. I've never felt this way before. I love you..." for the sympathetic and in love Tim to accept Bernard's reality and decide to leave with him without ever looking back again. Then to have a token marriage, a honeymoon and a precious romance along with a naïve happiness that he knew would last for the rest of his life.

"I'm home," Bernard crooned. He tossed the keys to the Impala on a plate on the entryway cope and shook his head as he rolled up his shirt sleeves making his way over to Tim, who was setting the plates with dinner in the dining room.

"Welcome," he said. Turning, he raised his eyebrows in surprise and smiled. "Wow, you're back in a good mood."

"Totally. I could sing the duet from Grease any time. You know, you're the one that I want, you ooh ooh," he sang, snapping his fingers. 

Tim let out a laugh. 

"Of course, you'll be Olivia Newton-John?"

"Obviously I'll be John Travolta, honey."

They both laughed and sat down across the table from each other. Just as he had thought on the way home, and for the first time in the two years they had been together, Bernard drank from the lemonade his husband made almost every day. It was sweet, as sweet as he was with everyone most of the time. 

"Did everything go well today?" dared Tim to ask. 

Bernard hesitated for a moment, oscillating between saying what he really thought and the less coarse version that perhaps the opposite would prefer to hear. Little by little, Tim was getting colder, enough not to get uncomfortable or make things awkward between the two of them when they talked about work. As such, he decided not to go easy on him.

"That woman seriously put up a fight before she died, she was pretty dignified, but it's not like willpower can stop a hemorrhage either."

"I thought you said you'd kill a man today."

"Yeah, I did say that, honey."

The lemonade was gone. The only sweet thing Bernard wanted to drink now was a glass of brandy before going to bed. 

Without even finishing Tim's parched meat and over-seasoned potatoes, Bernard stood up shaking his head and index finger as he advanced to the radio on one of the shelves, humming an upbeat tune all the way there, under the watchful, amused gaze of his husband. 

"What are you doing?" he asked, chuckling.

"Let's go dancing, Tim," he proposed. He inserted a cassette into the tape deck and their song began to play after a few seconds.  

Between stifled giggles, Tim walked over to him and let him take one of his hands to lead him in a slow, frightening choreography, which didn't amount to a waltz or any smooth dance that resembled it, yet they both moved uncoordinated between smiles as the tune played loudly in the room. 

"Will you be there tomorrow?" sang Bernard before the song became just instrumental again for a few seconds and Tim helped him around taking his arm.

They continued to shake their heads with exaggerated slowness, spinning around until they fell into each other's arms and stayed glued there for a few moments before separating again and releasing their hands only to take them again from a different position.

"Walk by my side, and follow my dreams," Tim vociferated, trying hard to mimic Joey Tempest's lyrical tenor. "And bear with my pride, oh, as strong as it seems."

Bernard allowed himself a chuckle in the middle of the ballad just as the song was reaching its climax. He helped Tim take one last lap and when the song lowered its intensity he hugged him until the song ended, erasing all traces of happiness that had been there for the previous three minutes.

As they parted, his husband gave him a faint smile and deposited a kiss on his cheek.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I'll be here tomorrow, Tim." 

Tim nodded with moist eyes and then turned his back on her, heading to the table to pick up the half-eaten dishes. 

«It's too bad you won't, honey.»

Turning off the radio, Bernard was also ending his terribly long lie. He opened the chest of drawers under the mantelpiece and pulled out his beloved old Colt Python, the equivalent of the '67 Impala in Tim's life to his own. 

He carefully stroked the trigger after making sure it was loaded, just as he had left it during the previous early morning, and settled his hands on it, touching it like his most valuable treasure. 

"You knew I'd kill a man today, honey," he murmured. "You should have prevented it."

With Tim's back to him, he felt a small glimmer of sadness that he was ending two years of his life where he went through experiences he could not erase along with the man's existence, but the story of the killer in love with his victim began as a lie and had to die as such, it could not come true at the end of the road. He would not allow it. Bernard Dowd left no room for mistakes and finished every job as stipulated, he had no mercy. Besides, he was disgusted from the beginning to have to be with another man and he would strive to make that feeling of disgust and dislike the one that prevailed in the act and for the rest of his existence.

She was not breaking his promise. He was for Tim every day throughout his life and the only reason he would not be tomorrow would be because he would no longer have one. Their song would die as his and the words would fade away as truths without Tim knowing that they were all falsehoods. 

Or so he wanted to, but either way his hand trembled as he held the revolver, hesitating between pressing the trigger as he so enjoyed doing or just putting the gun down and returning it to the drawer that commonly held it. 

However, if he stopped to think about it for a moment, and it was for the first time he did, Tim and he really did have a life together, it was short, but it existed nonetheless. And perhaps without realizing it, there were times when the charade would fall away and what he said or did was nothing more than what he really felt. The laughter, the caresses, even the dancing and Europe's "Tomorrow" duet they had done minutes before, all of it was real and the fun and warmth he experienced were not entirely part of the charade. 

The mornings he woke up next to Tim, the tears he watched him shed during their wedding, even when it was just the two of them separated from everything they ever cared about, and the honeymoon spent between romantic gestures, it was more than just him chasing after Target 102 to make it his one hundred and seventh kill so he could have a perfect streak...

Her hand closed over the trigger again with his husband in his gaze, now without hesitation or trembling. 

Yes. It was true. Those were all special moments and he would treasure them all in the name of his most precious mission, Timothy Drake. He was fulfilling his promise to him. 

He was with him every morning of his life. Until he shot him in the back and finished him off.

[devildomwriter]

The Side Crew Get a Puppy for Christmas Headcanons

Solomon

• He’s delighted and amused by your choice “how did you know I was looking for a companion?”

• He thinks the puppy is a little funny looking with its long face but that makes him all the more endearing to him

• Names him King after his own monicker King Solomon the Wise

• Trains the dog not to mess with his potions and doesn’t let him in the room he does experiments in. He takes more breaks from work so the puppy won’t feel alone or bed sad

• Let’s the dog in the bed, doesn’t have any rules for him involving furniture

• Takes the dog on mission, has a little backpack full of his things

• The dog won’t touch his food which makes him a little sad but is a relief to everyone else.

Thirteen

• She’s so freaking excited. Shouts “Yes!” over and over again

• Likes that it’s a wolfdog and hopes some people will get scared and mistake him for a wolf

• Lets him run around freely in her home, especially the grassy planes on the top level

• Gives him a name as ridiculous as her inventions “Wolfie the Wacky Wolfdog” says his full name every time, no nicknames like Wolfie, but she does call him “Baby”

• Trains the dog to bark loudly and scare people

• When to dog is outside the home, he howls a lot as a warning to visitors and she loves it so much as she didn’t even train him to do that

• This dog lives the life of luxury and has its picture taken by her ALL the time

• Has it trained to charge Solomon “Take this you bastard sorcerer! Wolfie the Wacky Wolfdog, go!”

Simeon

• Is delighted by the surprise. It’s so tiny he can’t believe it’s supposed to become so big

• He names the fluffy little creature, Snowball

• This dog copies it’s owner in every way, it’s a very calm angelic dog with a bit of a free spirit

• Simeon always feeds it Tuna sandwiches, all the animals seem to like it for some reason

• He always invites the dog into bed the bed to cuddle at night

• The dog is the only thing reminding Simeon to take a break from work time to time, so he’s a good healthy distraction for Simeon

• Simeon loves the slobbery dog kisses. He thinks it’s funny and feels strange

• This dog is living the life being allowed to stay in the celestial realm and play with the angel dogs to keep them company until their owners join them in heaven

Raphael

• He’s surprised and gives one of his rare smiles as he cuddles the puppy trying to lick his face

• Thinks Saint Bernard is just fine as a name. Simeon teases him about “Saint Bernard the St Bernard.”

• The dog likes to chew on clothes so he’s always having to repair his clothes and hide his fabrics

• He makes the dog capes and fake angel wings among other accessories

• The dog acts much like a Support animal, it does tasks around the house for Raphael and brings him his spear on command

• Raphael enjoys taking him on walks, especially when the dog becomes bigger and a tad intimidating due to its size. No one would dare mess with the hitman angel’s precious dog

• Due to Raphael’s weird taste in food, the dog never eats his scraps which worries Raphael enough he takes him to the vet who suggests his just feed him regular dog food. Raphael obliges but only the top brands from the celestial realm

Luke

• He’s sooooo excited.

• Names her Muffin because “she just looks like a Muffin”

• When he realizes how big the dog is going to get he’s absolutely shocked and begins organizing his room immediately in preparations for the dog’s growth

• He always let’s the dog lick the batter bowl once he’s done and has to scold the dog always easily reaching the counter to eat his ingredients and mixing food

• Luke has a hard time walking him but feels a little safer no matter where he is with the Great Dane

• Mammon teases him that the chihuahua finally has a friend the right species, etc

• Gets a lot of “Muffin is taking her dog for a walk” comments and he sicks Muffin on them and secretly laughs

Mephistopheles

• He’s more of a horse person but he loves the surprise especially since the dog breed has “a good image” he’s picky about those things

• Doesn’t really care that it’s a human-world dog and even names it after it’s origin country—Francis

• The dog has its own servants and vet who clean up after it. Therefor Mephistopheles can be “the fun parent”

• he will give this dog anything and certainly has the money for it

• Takes the dog on horse rides and gives it its own riding hats

• Has professional photography done for the dog as well as hiring top-tier painters like the famous Dantalion

Barbatos

• Laughs in amusement and thanks you, he’s quite delighted by the surprise

• The dog is very sweet, loyal and obedient. Appropriately Barbatos names him Steward.

• He tailors the dogs own Butler uniform and trains it to help serve Diavolo

• It brings dirty dishes to the kitchen, opens the fridge and dishwasher, turns on and off lights, uses the toilet, and entertains Diavolo when he’s bored or lonely

• Barbatos is pleased to always have the dog at his side and only trusts Lucifer with the dogs care when he is away on a mission or in meetings

• The dog is trained to bring a handkerchief to Barbatos when he starts drooling, he’s quite pampered in a way that is mutually beneficial

• If you even look at this dog the wrong way, Barbatos will be after you for it. Despite the dog’s sweetness everyone is scared of it due to its protective owner

Diavolo

• This man laughs so loudly in pure excitement and joy at the tiny little thing

• Gives it the expected name, Spot.

• This puppy goes with him literally everywhere, Diavolo will not leave the dog at home even for missions and diplomatic meetings

• Similarly to its owner, the dog is loud, energetic and unpredictable

• Diavolo is so excited to always have someone to play with

• Is glad the dog is super loyal and won’t crush his spirit by running away like the Flame Salamander did

• The dog has its own room and an elite staff to care for the dog in the seconds it’s away from Diavolo who insists on doing all the care himself including the very difficult baths

• The dog doesn’t like baths so Diavolo gets soaked and covered in bubbles a lot and he just laughs about it despite Barbatos insisting the dog be trained properly

• The dog can tell when his owner is in a more serious mood and will stand still beside him or pose regally

• Diavolo’s most recent professional painting included the dog and it looks like a renaissance painting

[introspectivememories]

“Bear, you’re hands are shaking.” Tim says abruptly.

“Hmm?” Bernard hums noncommittally, “Must be from the cold.”

“Bear,” Tim says with a little more force, “your hands are shaking.”

The entire family has stopped to watch them now.

Bernard smiles, tense around the edges, “I know. It must be from the cold.”

Tim turns towards his family, “Can you guys wait outside for a little? I need to talk to my husband over here.”

The family exchanges slow glances with each other and surprisingly it’s Jason who agrees first.

“Well, c’mon.” Jason says, when he sees that the rest of them haven’t moved, “They’re having a domestic squabble and they asked us to leave. Get moving.”

Quietly, the family exits out the hospital room, Bruce shutting the door behind him. The minute they’re all in the hallway, the family breaks out into hushed whispers.

“What do you think they’re arguing about?” says Steph.

“Dunno, seemed important.” Duke responds.

“Yeah, no shit.” Jason says smirking, “That’s why I bugged their room.”

“Jason,” Bruce admonishes but there’s no real rebuke behind it.

Jason pulls out his mini Bat-Tablet and starts fiddling with the frequencies. After a few short minutes, the static fades into recognizable words.

“...Bear tell me the truth.” Tim says, “Did you-” 

“Lets not do this today, okay baby? You’re tired.” Bernard says.

“Ooooh, already starting off wrong.” Dick mutters.

“Don’t ‘baby’ me Bear. Tell me the truth. Did you-”

“Stop.” Bernard says, “You’re whole family is listening in.”

Jason nearly drops the Bat-Tablet, “What the fuck? How’d he know?”

“Do you really want this to be the way they find out?”

“About what?” Bruce mutters, fists clenching beside him.

“I don’t care! Tell me the truth!” Tim shouts, “Did you kill him?”

Silence falls over the hallway, the family trying process what they heard.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Steph asks.

“Duke, do you know anything about this?” Bruce asks, “You’re the only one who knew about Bernard before this whole incident. Any of this ringing a bell?”

Duke shrugs, “Not a clue, Uncle B. All I knew was that they were married, nothing else.”

“Tim, baby, don’t do this.” Bernard pleads, “Ask me anything else.”

"Answer my question, did. you. kill. him?"

Bernard is quiet for long enough that they think the connection fizzled out.

"He wasn't a good person." Bernard says quietly.

"Was he a bad person?" Tim counters.

"...No." Bernard admits.

"So just average then. Not good and not bad."

"He didn't have anyone waiting for him."

"Weird justification, still murder." Duke murmurs.

"Did you kill him, Bear?" Tim asks tiredly. "Answer me or I will call Nikhil."

"Tim, baby, you're the smartest person I know. You already have an answer to your question."

"He wants to hear it from you," Cass whispers.

"I want to hear it from you." Tim says, unknowingly mimicking Cass.

Bernard says nothing and Tim sighs, "Alright then. Call Nikhil here."

There's rustling on the other side, presumably Bernard pulling out his phone. Someone says something but it's too faint to properly understand.

"He'll be here in a few." Bernard says and the feed lapses back into silence.

The family looks at each other.

"Okay Tim talks about Bernard killing like it's something he regularly does. Is Bernard some kind of hitman? Mercenary? Assassin?" Dick asks.

"No," Damian says, startling everyone, "He does not act like one."

("When did you wake up?" Jason asks.

"When you started playing the feed," Damian says.)

"Okay but nevermind what Bernard is, who did he kill?" Duke asks.

"It sounds like a regular person," Steph says, "But I don't think Bernard would kill a regular person. He doesn't seem like it."

"You don't know him." Bruce says, "We met him 3 weeks ago."

Their theorizing is interrupted by an Indian man walking towards them.

"How did you get here?" Bruce growls out, "This is a private floor."

"Hello, Sir. My name is Nikhil. I was sent for."

Bruce looks like he's going to keep interrogating the man so Dick pushes him aside and says, "Of course! They're in the first room on the right."

Nikhil bows his head briefly, "Thank you." And walks into the room.

Jason turns up the volume on the Bat-Tablet.

"Nikhil," Tim says tiredly, "It's so good to see you again. Sorry about cancelling dinner last month."

Dinner? Last month? Duke mouths.

"Young Master Bernard, Young Master Tim." Nikhil says.

Even Bruce looks confused now. Young Master?

"It's not a problem," Nikhil continues, "You weren't feeling well. We'll just have to have two dinners this month to make up for it."

“Of course, of course!” Tim says, “Can you answer a question for me Nikhil?”

“Of course.”

“Did Bernard kill Matthew Nicholls?”

Bruce sighs, the tension leaving his shoulders, “The man who shot Tim in the throat.”

“Oh my god,” Steph whispers.

Nikhil doesn’t respond right away.

“Go ahead, Nikhil. Tell him.”

Nikhil clears his throat, “Yes.”

Tim sucks in a breath.

“Three days ago, Young Master Bernard, Luka, and me, killed him.” Nikhil speaks as if he’s reading the weather forecast, “Luka and I, were on lookout. Young Master Bernard shot him.”

(Jason pointedly tries not to think about the fact that, Tim’s husband will kill someone for shooting Tim in throat but Bruce won’t even think about harsher sentences for the fucking Joker.

Whatever he’s not mad.)

“God fucking damnit, Bear. What the hell were you thinking?” Tim breathes out.

“And you, Nikhil, how could you let him do this?”

“NIkhil, didn’t make me do anything Tim. I chose it. I did it. I put the bullet in his head.”

“Bear, you’re a doctor! You can’t just fuckin’ kill people!”

“Young Master Tim,” Nikhil states sharply, “He was the head of the mob long before he was doctor. And even if that wasn’t the case, the Aquista mob does not take lightly to their members being targeted.”

“The Aquista mob?” Steph says, “But I thought that they died out during the gang wars...”

“Shows how much you know.” snorts Jason, “They’re one of the only few mobs that don’t work directly under me. But there’s no way Bernard’s the head. I met with them, once, when I was still on my, y’know.”

“Your murder spree, you mean?” Dick asks dryly.

“Yeah that. Anyway, when I met with them, they took me to their head. He was definitely not blonde, or young. It was some middle-aged man.”

“Must have been a decoy.” Bruce says, “Do they cause any trouble?” 

“Not at all. They stick to themselves.”

“If you fools could be quiet, I’d be able to hear what Drake and Dowd are saying.”

They all tune back in.

“You said you understood.” Bernard says quietly, “When we got married, you said you understood. That it wasn’t gonna come between us.”

“And it isn’t!” Tim responds frustratedly, “But you can’t just go around killing people who hurt me.”

“And I don’t.” Bernard says, “Because if I did, half of the Gotham’s villains would be dead. But you don’t like it when I kill so I don’t do it.”

“Because I do everything you ask. You told me you didn’t want me becoming an EMT in Gotham, so I stayed in the military. You told me not to kill, so I do it as sparsely as I can. You gave yourself to me and asked me to put you back together, and so I did. As carefully as I could I put you back together.”

“You can’t blame me for killing Matthew Nicholls. You can’t.”

“Bear,” Tim starts.

“Do you know what the doctors told me when I finally arrived?” Bernard interrupts, “They said your heart stopped twice. That is was a miracle the bullet hit nothing vital. They said you had lost too much blood, that they were worried you weren’t gonna make it.”

“Was that you plan Tim? To make me a widower? To leave me behind?” 

Bernard continues, voice thick with emotion, “There is no me without you. It’s too late for that. If I had came back and you were dead, I would’ve returned to Ebria that day and thrown myself on a live grenade.”

“Before anything else, Tim, I am your husband. Remember that. Before being the head of the mob, before being a Marine, before anything else, I am your husband. Remember that.”

“Bear,” Tim chokes out.

“God, fuck. I can’t do this right now.” 

“Bear, wait!”

They hear the sound of the door closing and they all rush to look inconspicuous. Bernard walks past them without a second glance, wiping at his eyes.

[usuallywisestarlight]

HITMAN. Asesino por casualidad

Hit Man. Asesino por casualidad Hit Man Año: 2023/ Estados Unidos Dirección: Richard Linklater Guion: Richard Linklater, Glen Powell, Skip Hollandsworth Reparto: Glen Powell, Adria Arjona, Austin Amelio, Molly Bernard, Jo-Ann Robinson, Kim Baptiste Música: Graham Reynolds Fotografía: Shane F. Kelly Sinopsis: Gary Johnson es el asesino profesional más buscado de Nueva Orleans. Para sus…

[motor-1-ous]

[f6s.gov/OluwoleFayemi]https://www.transit.dot.gov/funding/smartroute-systems-jeff-larson][Twitter.com/v1sionZero_tech][1385 Fulton Ave, Apt 614][Twitter.com/VisionZeroTech_][Twitter.com/Kiss | Twitter.com/Steelers][i.bbrts.com][NastyKinkPigs.com][ccastro@lanterncommunity.org][Bernard Kerik][https://www.fbi.gov/news/stories/murder-for-hire]

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

Will you be there? Tomorrow

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/SuBrT4O

by anyrobin

The song that Tim and Bernard considered as their own caused them to wonder about each other's stay in their lives the next day. Tim was sure that Bernard would be there for him every morning for the rest of his life, and Bernard would make sure to make that a reality.

Words: 3443, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 4 of DCU: Across the Bernardverse!

Fandoms: tim drake: robin, Red Robin (Comics), Robin (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman (Comics)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death

Categories: M/M

Characters: Bernard Dowd, Tim Drake, Jason Todd (Mentioned), Damian Wayne (Mentioned), Tim Drake's Parents, Bruce Wayne (Mentioned)

Relationships: Bernard Dowd/Tim Drake, Bernard Dowd & Tim Drake

Additional Tags: BAMF Bernard Dowd, POV Bernard Dowd, Bernard Dowd-centric, Song: Tomorrow (Europe), Hitman Bernard Dowd, Mafia Bernard Dowd, Idiots in Love, Angst, Darkfic, Fluff, Married Couple, Married Life, alternative universe - no capes, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Tim Drake is Not Robin, Across the Bernardverse

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/SuBrT4O

[ameripiner]

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[greensparty]

Richard Linklater Begins Production on Hitman

In New Orleans, production has begun on the new Richard Linklater movie Hitman. Based on a Texas Monthly article, it was adapted by Linklater and star Glen Powell. Linklater has directed Powell in Fast Food Nation, Everybody Wants Some!!, and Apollo 10½: A Space Age Childhood, but he’s been getting a lot of attention for his supporting role in Top Gun: Maverick.  Another co-star of Everybody Wants Some!! Austin Amelio is in the Hitman cast as well. It is being described as an action movie, but since this is Linklater I’m sure it’s more cranial than most cop movies. Can’t wait!

The link above is the article from Variety.

[hmsquared]

This is how my brain makes an OC.

During the Year Two stream, my eyes locked onto the piano in this image. Not entirely sure why they did, but I immediately started thinking about who would play that piano.

Okay. I’m going to say it’s a woman, mainly because I prefer female OCs. She’s elegant, has played the piano her whole life, and would be a famous composer in another life.

My guess is, this woman grew up inside Providence. She was too busy learning piano to register their treatment of her, so she has a misguided love for the conspiracy. Edwards let her work at the ICA to further his own goals.

She has super dark brown hair, so brown it’s easily mistaken for black. It’s long, silky, and almost regal. Super pale skin, dark brown eyes. Manicured black fingernails, except the right thumb is white.

Preferred weapons? Ironically, she strongly dislikes piano wire. Something tells me our OC likes pistols, considering triggers and keys both involve finger movement. And disguises that let her speak directly with the target are preferable.

British… or French? Let’s compromise and say she’s British-French. British dad, French mom, new money family. Edwards is like an uncle to our girl.

Now for a name. How about… Lila Bernard-Dubois.

[yuzukult]

i’m bad too 15 || kdy & reader

title: i’m bad too - drabble series pairing: kim doyoung x reader genre: angst, fluff, smut, goodboy!doyoung, nerdy!dy (basically he’s a dork) & badgirl!reader, hitman!au, oc-isn’t-a-hitman-but-she-could-be!au, word count: 1.8k warnings: none !! a/n: a “leading” chapter, before something actually happens! so, not the most exciting, but... yeah. :D

please let me know if anyone wants to be tagged! taglist: @wownajaemin​​​​ @crescent-iak​​​​ @ncttboo​​​​ @byunbaekby​​​​​ @jinfizz​​ @doyoungyoung​​ @ahgayeah0305​​ @doyobun​​ @sexualitaeyong​ @mrkleelvr​​ @m1ss-foodi3​​

← previous chapter || next chapter →​​

If it’s one thing you’ve learned about yourself, it’s that you hate when Ten chews his food with his mouth open. He chomps it like a cow munching on grass, and sometimes, he even makes those weird wet sounds if the food is soft and squishy enough.

But after laying in a hospital bed for a week, unable to speak, you’re missing the ability to call your big brother ‘disgusting’ across the table, toss something in his direction, and him opening his mouth to show the contents of his dinner inside.

“Are you fucking insane? You let her go into hellfire, knowing damn well she wasn’t protected?” The voice is familiar, loud, and straining, like they’re on the verge of tears but too instilled with anger to let the sadness seep through. “I thought I said to keep her fucking safe if you wanted to work together.”

“I don’t work in the field, Ten. I don’t control what happens at the moment.”

“Yeah, but you set the commands. You give the orders. She’s fucking on her deathbed, Taeyong—“

“Don’t fucking say my name in public,” he hisses through his gritted teeth. “Listen. If it’s not her, it’s me.”

“I’d rather it be you.”

“You need me, Ten. Who is gonna do the dirty work for you? Look at those pretty fingers. You wouldn’t hurt a soul. But your sister—you know damn well she’s got potential to be more. This is just a hurl she’s jumping over. When she recovers—“

“You’ve got to be fucking insane, you think I’m gonna let her go back out there when you put her in harms way?”

Before the conversation could continue, you hear the door click shut, and the shuffling of flat shoes tapping against the cold tiles, reaching to your bedside. You can’t see, your body won’t let you fully awaken, and you can’t speak with this tube lodged in your throat. But the whiff of the cologne that comes hits your nostrils is a familiar one. It’s Doyoung.

He sighs, like he’s been troubled and you can’t even blame him. You told him not to worry, that you’d stay safe, and here you are—unable to move, unable to wake up, unable to breathe on your own, and unable to talk.

You hear his moments; the scuffing of his oversized denim jacket against the leather seat by your bed, browsing through the drawers with each push and slam until he finds what he’s looking for, and when you hear the television turn on, you could only assume it was for the remote.

“I wonder if they have Marvel movies playing,” he says, seemingly to no one in particular until you realize he’s speaking to you, in spite of the fact that you’re very much in a deep sleep. “I know they’re not your favorite, but you tolerate it. I never got to ask what kind of movies you liked. I… I guess I was being a little selfish when you gave me attention that I never considered to ask.”

You wanna tell him that you actually don’t even like movies, in fact, you prefer sitcoms in spite of your very evident opposite personality. If you could, you would tell him that you watch those superhero movies because he’s into them, that if you get to see that pretty little smile on his face, it makes you forget all your problems and… the moment is worthwhile.

Warmth reaches your fingers, and you could only assume that it’s Doyoung holding your hand. It’s a familiar feeling of home, like you’re meant to be here with him, except the current setting isn’t necessarily favored.

“Do you like Spongebob?” He asks, as if you could even respond. “Mm. Doesn’t really seem like your thing, but I feel like you’re the type to not look like you enjoy it, but you actually love it because it’s annoying.”

He’s… right. You want to laugh, genuinely laugh because Kim Doyoung is spot on with his prediction. He knows you better than he gives himself credit for, because he doesn’t change the channel and watches the TV with you.

“I bet you like sitcoms,” Doyoung mentions randomly, eyes still on the screen. “Like maybe not Modern Family, but maybe like… Parks and Rec. You don’t seem like you’d enjoy the Office too much, maybe Michael Scott is too much of a character but Andy Bernard looks like a guy you’d scare to the point he’d piss his pants, but you’d like him.” Again, you think to yourself. Because Doyoung got it right yet again.

He’s quiet for a bit, letting Spongebob play in the background and you could hear the conversation between Spongebob and Patrick. Truthfully, you don’t know what’s actually happening, but the feeling of being with Doyoung like this, hand in hand with something stupid playing on TV is your favorite.

It’s casual. No missions, no guns, no family business—just you and Doyoung.

Doyoung doesn’t say much on the day you finally wake up. With a tube wedged down your throat, it’s difficult to have a two-way conversation anyways, and seeing you like this probably breaks his heart, so any word that leaves his mouth might be with a stutter and a sob.

Spongebob plays on the television for another hour before Doyoung eventually breaks the glass of quietude, letting out a soft chuckle at something Patrick said. “Sorry,” he apologizes quickly, glancing over at you. “Wasn’t sure if you liked Spongebob.” Although you can’t speak, the soft squeeze of his hand gives away your approval, and a gentle smile tugs on his face.

There's another moment of silence, just before Doyoung lowers the volume of the TV before gathering enough courage to talk. It takes a lot to get himself to speak up against you, someone he sort of feared yet at the same time had strong feelings for.

“I know what you do,” he announces, eyes never leaving the flickering screen with cartoon characters under the deep blue sea do stupid things, unmatching to what he wants to say next. “I can’t say that I totally get it, because I don’t. I’d be lying if I said I did, but… you do those things, and I’m not a hundred percent sure what to make out of it, but I get why it was hard to confess… those things.” He runs his fingers through his greasy locks, accumulating in oils from how long he’s stayed here without going home to shower. “I kind of thought I was going to date someone really simple one day, yaknow? Settle down with a girl who has a job, sweet and kind, with the same end goal in mind. Get married, have kids… all that fun stuff.”

Your nose twitches at that. Because you’re definitely not that.

“But then I met you, which is… well,” he lets out a faint laugh, “... the complete opposite of all of that. You’re dangerous, cold, and oftentimes, I’m left hanging by a thread, confused on what we are and what I actually mean to you.”

If you could, you’d interrupt him right then and there. Tell him your sorrys, belatedly confessing your true feelings for him, let him know you’d be better for real this time, but truthfully, you’re not sure if he’ll believe you anyway.

“And I could just drop everything right now. Just get up, leave, move on. Tell you that I don’t want this anymore, that whatever you’re in, I don’t wanna be roped in and get involved in your baggage.” It’s like you could hear the cracking of your heart as it falls into the depths of your stomach because your chest feels empty when he says that. The worst part is when you can’t defend yourself, tell him that it’s not like that, but in the end, Doyoung does it for you.

“Yet, I’m still here, right? Because I don’t get you, I don’t get whatever it is you got yourself caught up in, but… after knowing, it oddly makes me… trust you more. So, I’ll stay.”

“Fuck,” Ten curses underneath his breath, getting slightly frustrated with the wheelchair being caught on the steps of your home again. “Fucking shit, nothing here is disability accessible.”

It’s still hard to talk, but a weak laugh escapes from your lips.

“Don’t laugh, you’re the one in the wheelchair not doing shit.”

When he gets you through the front door, and into the hallway, you can’t help but stare at Ten curiously. He furrows his brows at this, hands at his hips with a gesture of his chin. “What’s in your head?”

“Uh,” it’s straining to speak, but if not now, it’s never. “I overheard a conversation when I was asleep. I-I don’t know if it was a dream or… I don’t know. But I heard you talking to someone, uh, someone particularly… with a reputation.”

His body goes rigid.

“Right,” you state, feeling more confident that the discussion was definitely not a dream. “So this entire time, you’ve been working with the organization?” Ten only sucks his cheeks, unable to formulate a proper rebuttal, so you take advantage of this. “This whole time, you let them constantly probe and ask me to be part of them—”

“I told him not to—”

“Well, he’s been asking, Ten, and he hasn’t stopped. I got contracted to be part of them temporarily, not permanently. This was supposed to be a one and done deal, you realize that, right?”

He scoffs. “You think that anything you do with Lee Taeyong could just be easily brushed under the rug? Hell no, you have to be insanely rich to pay off that guy. He thinks you’re talented, you know? What do you think this is?”

“I could just get up and leave—” “In your fucking dreams, kid,” Ten lets out a chuckle of disbelief, shaking his head. “I agreed to work with him before I knew that you were already contracted with him. There’s shady people in the business. There’s so many messed-up dudes who would bend the laws to get what they want. I don’t want that, but I have to protect myself.”

“But—”

“Wanna hear something, kid? Taeyong doesn’t think this accident,” Ten gestures to your wounds, heart tightening at the sight of you in pain. “... this accident, is just… it. He calls this an obstacle. He thinks this is just a bump in your progress, something you need to overcome before you hop back into the field and start training all over again. He’s not gonna let this go, doesn’t matter if I’m his client. Fuck, kid, he has a shit ton of clients.”

Uneasily, you grip onto the wheels of your seat. “Then what do you want me to do?”

“It’s your loss, kid. Either kill Taeyong and take his seat or you gotta work for him.”

[gypsydanger01]

THE STORM - Part ten

Fandom: The Boys (Amazon prime tv series)

Pairing: Black Noir x OC

Disclaimer: I don’t own The Boys, only my OC characters and certain pieces of au plot.

Comments, reviews, constructive criticism, and other requests are always more than welcome!

  Posting new chapters on Wednesday and Friday!

Die Hard and stolen glances

After making sure Sarah ate a hearty lunch, Martha took her leave, worry still lingering in her eyes. She’d made her friend promise to call Mallory as soon as possible. Sarah decided she’d contact her tomorrow at their usual time. And while she always looked forward to talking with the woman who’d raised her through her teen years, she felt dread creep up at the thought of having to either lie or tell her the truth and deal with the consequences. Telling Mallory her abilities had resurfaced would be equivalent to purchasing a ticket back home. And that was the one thing she could not do. Not until this situation with Vought was resolved.

Putting those thoughts to rest, her mind moved onto the other pressing concern: her upcoming movie night with Black Noir. It felt silly to think—even more when said out lout, but they bonded over their love for action movies. She shrugged her coat on and wrapped a scarf loosely around her neck before heading out of the house. The neighborhood she lived in wasn’t extremely well kept and trash often littered the sidewalks, clustering in the corners. She’d been skeptical when the previous owner had given her a tour. However, she soon realized she didn’t mind, and the affordable price and relatively quiet environment ultimately won her over. Being right outside of the city, the housing complexes were low rise, about two floors high, some three. She had a view on the city and could easily access the university on her bike. Sure, it took about fifteen minutes, but the peace and absence of the city’s obnoxious traffic in that small, rundown neighborhood made it worth it.

She soon reached her destination: the nearest small shop, “Dave’s Grocers.” Immediately, she headed for the party necessities section, searching for straws amid the colorful shelves. She soon grew impatient, scanning the items multiple times.

“Hello, welcome to Dave’s Grocers,” a young employee greeted her. “Is there anything I can I help you with?”

“Hi, yeah actually I’m looking for straws,” she glanced back at the shelves, “but I can’t seem to find any.”

The young man—whose name tag read Bernard in a squiggly handwriting—looked through the shelves himself before confirming her suspicions.

“I can check in the back if we had anything come in,” he offered.

“Yeah that would be great, thank you.”

With that she followed him and waited at the front counter as he disappeared into the back. He soon returned with a box in his arms.

“I found a box of them,” he smiled genuinely. He set the box down and opened it up.

The first thing that registered in Sarah’s mind was, “They’re pink.” She looked to him for confirmation.

“Magenta to be precise.”

She pushed some of her hair behind her ears. Black Noir had refused a drink last time because he wouldn’t take his mask off. She figured that by offering him a strawed drink, he’d accept it. She was sure she’d seen him drinking from a straw before, either in passing at Vought or on television. She wanted it to be a thoughtful act, and here she was thinking of offering him a pink straw.

Sure, it was just a color, right? Their generation was past binary color preferences—pink for girls, blue for boys. They were over it, right? A lot of men see no issue in wearing pink or purple these days. But Black Noir was no ordinary man. 

What was initial horror, soon morphed into amusement. She became curious of  his reaction. 

“How much” she questioned, eyes glued to the intensely colored straws.

“Uh,” he checked the side of the cardboard to be sure, “a dollar and fifty cents for a pack of twenty.”

She nodded, making up her mind, “I’ll take one.”

After paying he asked her to hold up, scratching the back of his neck.

“Could I get your number?”

She eyed him in suspicion, the man from the previous night flashing in front of her eyes. But then she quickly softened. He’d been helpful and seemed like a sweet guy.

“Look, I’m sorry but I’m seeing someone,” she slightly twisted the truth.

“Ahh, should’ve known,” he looked down with a disappointed smile. “He a good guy,” he asked.

Sarah wanted to choke right there. He’s Edgar’s damn hitman and has probably killed more people than she could count.

She simplified her answer with, “Yeah, he’s great,” she held up the straws, “these are actually for him.”

Bernard laughed lightly, “Bold. That’s why you looked worried when you first saw them, huh?”

She chuckled, “Yeah, he’s in for a surprise.”

After waving goodbye, she took her leave and headed back home.

.

When eight o’clock rolled around, Sarah was ready. She’d fixed her hair, her dark brown coils forming a soft cloud over her shoulders. A light coat of mascara was what she settled for, deciding to forego any other makeup. This was a casual meeting between two people who were barely acquaintances, she reminded herself. She changed into comfy clothes, slipping on her best pair of black sweatpants with a matching sweatshirt. Soft socks were a must.

Finally, she made sure her necklace poked out of her top. It had been her mother’s, who’d passed it down to her when she’d first been hospitalized. It was meant as a reminder that her parents were always with her and that they’d fight her disease together. It was a symbol of hope. Now, it was a small piece of her parents she kept on her always. Sometimes, it gave her a sense of peace as she recalled memories of family dinners or the playground. Other times, it fueled the guilt and deep-seated hate she felt towards the institution that made her into the monster she is. She fiddled with the black pearl, crowned by a gold fringe.

Heading back into the living room, she planned to wait for him on the couch. And there he was, standing in the middle of her living room.

This time she didn’t jump or freeze, already growing accustomed to his sudden appearances. She was grounded, she refused to be afraid. She thought it was foolish to not fear such a dangerous threat. So, she acknowledged it, but left it in a corner of her mind where she could see it but deny it control of her actions or reactions.

“Hey,” she greeted nodding at him, “how are you,” she asked.

He nodded at her and she quickly handed over their black notebook for him to reply.

Fine. You

She smiled, “I’m doing okay.”

He watched her movements, fluid and more controlled than last time. What he’d witnessed the night before had given him a new perspective, and he desperately wanted to question her about what happened. But at that point, he’d be admitting himself as a stalker. He stayed silent.

She nodded towards the couch, “You can sit, the movie’s already in,” she said turning her television on. “I made some popcorn, I’m not sure if you wanted to eat anything.”

He sat and simply watched her. Sarah ducked into the kitchen before she ended up losing her confidence. She emerged with a big bowl of popcorn, inhaling the smell, and humming a tune. She set the bowl on the coffee table, glancing at the massive man before heading back into the kitchen to get their drinks.

“So please bear with me,” she said moving towards him with the two drinks behind her back. “I know you aren’t comfortable with pulling your mask, so I went and got something to help with that…” she trailed off.

He tilted his head slightly, and she imagined an inquisitive expression had formed on his face.

She moved the drinks to the front, careful to not spill any.

“I know the straws are bold…” she stated the obvious. “Would you like some?”

He assessed the situation—the straws, the soft blush on her cheeks, her frame engulfed by her sweatshirt. And he found himself nodding, if only to put her at ease. He was unexpectedly moved by her thoughtfulness, a tightness forming in his chest.

She exhaled the breath she’d been holding, “Great, here you go,” she said brightly.

She grabbed a throw blanket to wrap herself in and moved towards the other couch chair in the room. He frowned. She was cold? She looked so much smaller in her home clothes, and he felt an itch to gather her in his arms. He ran at a higher temperature anyway, he’d probably feel like a thermostat to her.

“Do you want a blanket?”

He blinked at her, and she too found it amusing that this massive dark man might want one of her small light blue covers.

He shook his head. I’m fine and followed it with a thumbs up.

She nodded and snuggled into the chair, diagonally to his right.

She grabbed the remote and pointed it to the screen, pressing play.

And so, they watched the movie, constantly exchanging hurried, shy glances. Once, she was watching him out of the corner of her eye, and she saw him discreetly lift his mask, pick some popcorn and drop them in his mouth. He immediately covered his face again and chewed without making a sound. She was disappointed that in the dark she missed it. At one point, Sarah was surprised to see his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. She too laughed, and often commented her favorite scenes. She hoped he didn’t mind. She just couldn’t seem to help herself. And he secretly loved it. He enjoyed her voice, especially when she was talking to him.

He watched her snuggle deep under the blanket, her sweatshirt sleeves pulled over her hands. He watched her laugh and comment the scenes they both knew by heart. In the dark room, he watched her more than the movie itself. The colored light projecting from the screen flitted across her cheeks, her attention captured by John McClane as he took down Gruber’s team in the Nakatomi Tower.

Black Noir was rather disappointed when the credits rolled and she rose to switch the lights back on. He perked up when she spoke, “Always a classic, huh?”

He nodded with enthusiasm.

She recited with a deeper voice, “Nine million terrorists in the world and I gotta kill one with feet smaller than my sister.”

Sarah was pleasantly surprised when he clapped his hands and wrote Bravo.

She curtsied, “Why thank you.”

She must be losing her mind, joking around with one of the most dangerous men in the world. And yet, right then she couldn’t bring herself to fear him. Black Noir was still holding his drink, hot pink straw sticking out like a sore thumb.

She took the last sip of her own drink, and embarrassedly stopped when she began to slurp loudly.

“Oh god, sorry. My friend absolutely hates it when I do that.”

He looked over as she brought her legs up into a cross-legged position. And then he did something that surprised them both.

He gave her a thumbs up and loudly sucked on his straw, emitting the same sounds she’d just made. Sarah stared wide-eyed and began to laugh.

He wrote. Sorry :)

“We’re both scandalous—just scandalous,” she smiled.

She gathered their empty cups, but he stopped her before she could get up. She looked so comfortable and he swiftly stood and placed a hand on her shoulder, indicating she should stay seated. Sarah looked up at him shocked and suddenly reminded of his murderous tendencies. He gently took the cups from her hands and immediately went to wash them in her kitchen sink. He felt rather than saw her enter the small kitchen leaning her back against the counter beside him, watching him work. He stilled and she quickly realized why, his big, dark gloves left on the counter.

She felt like they had entered a bubble, a very unstable bubble that could burst at any second.

She whispered softly, “It’s okay, you don’t have to hide here.”

He stared down in the now empty sink. He finally brought his hands up and over the edge, slowly reaching for the gloves. His skin was a toffee brown, his long fingers rough and calloused. She felt the sudden urge to reach out and touch him, assure herself that indeed there is a man under the suit. She quickly swallowed the thought and filed it away.

He looked at her and she held his concealed gaze for a few, long seconds. She wondered what thoughts were whizzing across his brain.

“Who knows what you look like?”

He merely stared at her. She tried, “Anyone?”

He shook his head no.

She continued speaking softly, finally looking away. “But isn’t that lonely? I mean not being comfortable enough in another’s presence to be seen as you are?”

She knew this was a sensitive topic for him and feared she’d taken it a step too far. But fortune favored the bold, and she wanted to understand the silent man in front of her.

He promptly left the room, and she sagged against the counter. She thought he’d left, and instead there he was returning black notebook in hand. He came to stand next to her, so close her head reached his shoulders. He too leaned back against the counter mirroring her stance. He scribbled against the paper.

Are we friends?

She smiled confused, “Uhm I’d like to think so, but it's not something you just decide, it just happens when you enjoy being around a person. Do you see me as a friend?”

He stared at her for the longest, and she found herself glancing behind him at the knives stand further down on the counter. She could feel her heart beating loudly and grew worried that she’d truly overstepped his boundaries.

Relief flooded her when he finally nodded.

When can I see you again?

He found he needed to leave, he needed to think somewhere he could focus. Those dark chocolate eyes of hers disarmed him, and he felt vulnerable under her gaze. The fact she’d seen his hands had shaken him. But she hadn’t recoiled, he reminded himself.

Sarah thought about it, “How does Wednesday evening sound? Same time?”

He nodded. 

He wasn’t sure what friends did when parting. He’d observed that some hug, some shake hands, some wave... What stage were they at? He wasn’t sure what would be appropriate in this situation.

He drew his characteristic smiley face on the notebook for her to find, and flipped it closed. He felt shaky under his collected exterior, and her perfume sent him over the edge. He twisted and pulled her close into his chest, an arm around her back as he pressed a chaste kiss to the top of her head, inhaling her vanilla leave-in conditioner. Just as quick, he pulled away, straightened his posture and walked out of the room, leaving the notebook on the table.

Sarah was bewildered. Her heart was racing, her thoughts jumbled into an incoherent mess. She stood there for a couple minutes. But what truly surprised her, was that she felt a fluttering sensation in her stomach, a blush creeping up her neck. You have got to be kidding me, she thought to herself.

What was absent, instead, was the enveloping warmth she felt before a breakout. Maybe she wasn’t in danger around him, after all.

MASTERLIST

Tag list: @ateliefloresdaprimavera @ellejo @dust-bun @coco724 ​  @proximio-5 @damiminator @omegahighendpro @rpgluvr95 @sweetrabbitteamx

[batfoonery]

Listen. I know that the Tim story in Urban Legends is like. The thing to talk about right now but I

1) wasn't particularly taken with it. Bernard seems sweet, and don't get me wrong I am Into my bi baby Tim. But I'm just not drawn into the whole thing yet

2) would rather talk about The Long Con from this issue?! pLEASE it literally had me CACKLING. Could you imagine being a hired hitman, hiring your buddy Deathstroke to essentially help you trap Batman in like. One of those no-kill cat traps. Yall set it up, get it working, and whump! Got it!

Except then you realize oh. oh no. That is NOT Batman. That is a particularly ruffled and rather pissed looking SUPERMAN. Like trying to trap a cat and ended up with a mountain lion or something.

shfhsdj;fsk;oas

I showed my dad and brother, neither of whom knows the rest of the story, but they laughed just as hard as I did. And then we did that thing where you get quiet and then someone giggles and then you're all laughing again. Because. Poor Clark. Poor ANYONE who gets pulled into Gotham to 'helpp out' lmao.

[dearcat1]

Italian roots [Part 4]

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

Fandom: Iron man, Katekyo Hitman Reborn.

Relationship: Superbi Squalo & Xanxus, Toni Stark & Dum-E, Toni Stark & Xanxus.

.

Squalo would like it known that when he decided to follow Xanxus, the bratty sky with the potential of a burning star, it had been out of awe at the destruction the man could leave in his wake. Young Squalo had been star-struck at his brilliance. He had not, however, signed up to be the man’s babysitter.

Babysitting two geniuses with the emotional intelligence of a dumpster fire is nowhere on his job description. Especially when one of them is not even his. But he won’t complain, much. They’re finally making some progress. it’s slow going but it’s there, that’s something at least.

They’ve graduated to dinner along with their drinking and now they finally exchange actual words, every now and then. Progress, damn it. Even if it took months.

This had not been what Squalo had been expecting when he had noticed those dormant flames during his return from a mission, so achingly familiar to Xanxus’ that they could be nothing but family.  in hindsight, this is exactly the kind of thing he should have been expecting, since when do things work easily for him?

He had been expecting Xanxus to be difficult to convince, he never saw her skepticism coming. But it’s working out regardless so not everything is lost.

Xanxus is the one with a bad mood tonight. Squalo would intervene if it wasn’t for the almost considering looks the woman keeps sending his sky. Squalo recognizes the way Xanxus drums his fingers absent-mindedly, and he knows that if it wasn’t for the threat of weapons aimed at them, his boss would be taking his guns apart before putting them back together.

“Alright, John Bernard. Follow me.”

His boss sends her a sour look for the nickname, already used to her antics but visibly deciding whether or not to pick up a fight. Squalo, very carefully, lets out enough rain flames to push his boss into a peaceful decision. The man eyes Squalo grumpily but he does stand up to follow her so that’s a win.

She guides them all the way down some stairs to a set of glass doors. “This is your stop, Sailor Moon.” She tells him, pointing at a place beside the door and Squalo breathes in carefully. Ok, no pressure! It can’t be that bad, those two can handle conversation without supervision for a little while.

It’s fine. Everything is fine.

Clapping her hands, she walks inside, “wake up boys! Mama’s here.”

That’s a sight, for sure, the entire lab lights up. Squalo can see the way Xanxus straightens, curiosity overriding his bad mood and he has to wonder whether that was her intention. She’s 21 at best but in some things, she seems far more experienced than they are.

“Well, then, bad boy, pick one,” Toni gestures to the line of classic cars parked at the edge of the lab. “We’re tinkering.”

Squalo can see his boss’ eyes light up as he approaches a red 1959 Cadillac. “This one.”

“Oh, nice choice,” she coos at the car. “We’re going for speed?” At Xanxus’ nods she continues, “baby girl, where’s my music?”

“On it, boss!” Comes the cheery reply and Xanxus startles, looks around and then gapes.

Toni’s smile is smug as she gestures for the black-haired man to join her under the hood.

By the time they resurface, Squalo is almost asleep, clutching the empty pizza box FRIDAY had ordered for him. It’s almost midday now but those two had barely reacted when Squalo had tried to snap them out of their tinkering haze and the doors wouldn’t open for him.

Xanxus and he drive away on the new car (”keep it, it’s at least 10% your baby") after lunch. Xanxus is quiet, calm but lost in his own thoughts. “Maybe,” he murmurs. “Maybe. Her flames do feel similar to mine.”

It’s full of something close to fragile hope and Squalo closes his eyes, curses Timoteo Vongola for what feels like the thousand time. “They do.” Looking at his boss like this, a little nervous, a little vulnerable, it's easy to remember that this man is now 8 years younger than Squalo.

For all that Xanxus' genius compensates.

“How do I...? Squalo, she won’t give us her blood. There’s no info on her.”

Squalo nods because that’s true. it’s what raised all those flags before they came the first time. “Slowly, boss. She trusts you better now, doesn’t she? She let you into that lab.”

His boss doesn’t answer, just keeps on driving but Squalo knows the Wrath realizes it's the truth.

[whump-my-dear-watson]

Some Movie Recs For You (this was too long for an ask I’m sorry)

(Some of these are Christmas movies because I’m in a Christmas mood lol) -Miracle on 34th Street (1947) {absolutely a must see. Great storyline, makes me laugh every time and is very sweet.} -It’s a Wonderful Life (1946) {TW: the main character has some suicidal thoughts, but everything turns out okay. He thinks it would be better if he wasn’t born and gets a chance to see how life would be for everyone else. Very moving and inspirational.} -Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home (1986) {Funny. Excellent. Witty. Cringily 80s in some places. Whales. What’s not to like?} -The Princess Bride (1987) {I think this speaks for itself. Clever, whumpy, overall a great story.} -The Three Musketeers (1993) {Half the guys have mullets, but if you can ignore that fact then it’s a well made movie, and there is some whump (but not nearly enough aftercare... alas, we can only dream) and the other musketeers are a bit protective of D'artagnan, which is one of my faaavvorite tropes. Highly recommend for a funny and whumpy time.} -Pirates of the Caribbean (2003) {PIRATES. I love pirates. Funny, witty, and a lil bit whumpy too.} -The Hitman’s Bodyguard (2018) {This one IS a bit newer BUT if you haven’t already go listen to the noises that Ryan Reynold’s character makes while being tortured. So many whumperflies.} -Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939) {TW: it’s implied that one of the characters tries to shoot himself. If you don’t like history/politics, this might not be the movie for you. I personally found it hilarious and enjoyable, and at the end the main character passes out from exhaustion and it’s beautiful.} -The Santa Clause 1, 2, & 3 (1994, 2004, & 2006) {The third one is really a hit or miss with most people. Personally, the second one is my favorite, mostly because Bernard was one of my first whumpees when I was like 6 or 7. The first one is also excellent, and holds a special place in my heart for kind of giving people a glimpse into what it’s like to have Christmas with divorced parents, on both the kid’s side and the parent’s side. They are all really funny and sweet.} I think that’s it but there is a good chance you’ll get some more later

--------

Ahhh thank you so much! These recs are awesome! Definitely helps add to my list ❤❤❤

[ljones41]

“THE MAN WITH THE GOLDEN GUN” (1974) Review

“THE MAN WITH THE GOLDEN GUN” (1974) Review

What can I say about 1974’s “THE MAN WITH THE GOLDEN GUN”? It is not the worst James Bond movie I have ever seen. I can think of at least two or three of which I have a lower opinion. But I do believe that it is the worst Roger Moore film in the franchise.

Apparently screenwriter Tom Mankiewicz believed the same. He made the decision to bow out of adapting Ian Fleming’s 1965 novel, before the script could be finished. The plot for “THE MAN WITH THE GOLDEN GUN” focused on the Solex Agitator – a device which can harness the power of the sun. Before Bond could investigate the death of scientist who was thought to be in possession of information crucial to the creation of the Solex Agitator, he has to find out why hitman Francisco Scaramanga had sent a golden bullet to him.

It turns out that Scaramanga’s long-suffering mistress, Andrea Anders, had sent the bullet to Bond, hoping that he would kill the hitman. Eventually, Bond teams up with MI-6 agents Mary Goodnight and Lieutenant Hip against Francisco Scaramanga – The Man with the Golden Gun and his employer, billionaire Hai Fat. Eventually Scaramanga kills Hai Fat and become the sole possessor of the Solex Agitator. He also kills Andrea and kidnaps Goodnight. Bond tracks Scaramanga to an island of mainland China, where the action finally culminates in a duel between the two men – Bond’s Walther PPK against Scaramanga’s Golden Gun.

I must admit that the movie’s plot seemed interesting. It certainly did not seem like the disappointment that “LIVE AND LET DIE” turned out to be. I thought it was a lot better than the plot created by Fleming for his 1965 novel. The problem with “THE MAN WITH THE GOLDEN GUN” is that it was so poorly executed . . . especially by director Guy Hamilton. There seemed to be a lack of style or substance in how the movie was directed.

Roger Moore’s performance did not help matters. After his impressive debut in his previous movie, many Bond fans made a fuss over the fact that Moore’s Bond seemed nothing like Connery’s Bond. Which led to Moore being forced to attempt a recapture of Connery’s style. And it did not work. He came off as false and almost wooden. Only two scenes saved Moore’s performance from being a complete bust – his encounter with the Macao gunsmith, Lazar (“Speak now or forever hold your piece.”) and the Bond/Scaramanga confrontation during luncheon on the assassin’s island when Bond expresses his dislike of Scaramanga’s suggestion that the British agent is nothing more than a fellow assassin.

Speaking of Scaramanga, EON Productions had the good fortune to cast Christopher Lee (the future Count Dooku and Sarauman) as the movie’s main villain, expert assassin Francisco Scaramanga. The scene that featured Scaramanga’s recollection of a pet elephant produced a very poignant performance from Lee. In fact, only Lee and South Korean actor, Soon-Tek-Oh (who portrayed MI-6 agent Lieutenant Hip) seemed to be the only two cast members who gave consistently excellent performances throughout the entire film.

I certainly cannot say the same about the other supporting cast members. Herve Villachaise (four years before “FANTASY ISLAND”) simply annoyed me. Maud Adams seemed to be her usual wooden self. Britt Ekland, although a good actress, had the bad luck to portray the annoyingly clumsy Mary Goodnight. Bernard Lee seemed a bit over-the-top in his constant annoyance toward Bond and Hip. Even worse, I never understood M’s willingness to blame an innocent Bond for the death of government scientist Dr. Gibson. Desmond Llewellyn’s portrayal of Q struck me as equally annoying as M seemed to find him. I do not even recall the quality of Lois Maxwell’s brief performance as Moneypenny.

I must admit that cinematographers Ted Moore and Oswald Morris beautifully captured the exotic allure of Southeast Asia. It seemed a pity that John Barry could not produce a memorable score and that Don Black wrote what I consider to be the second worst Bond theme song (performed by Lulu) in the franchise’s history. Oh well. Nothing is perfect. Unfortunately for “THE MAN WITH THE GOLDEN GUN”, it was far from perfect.