(i’ll put a real title here later, i promise)

She was amazed to discover that when he was saying, 'As you wish,' what he meant was, 'I love you.' And… she truly loved him back.

If you are in the United States and not employed by a zoo or sanctuary or a veterinarian working with a facility, if anyone for any reason offers to allow you to touch a big cat, please do not do it.

No matter how much you want to, no matter how much it is a dream, understand that it is a violation of federal law that could get the facility the cat lives at in very serious trouble. It does not matter if it is through the fence, or in the context of a trained behavior, or if the cat is on a leash. Even if it feels “safe” or they swear the facility condones it.

It’s starting to appear that lots of zookeepers have not been informed appropriately about the scope of the law - or in cases where they do know it’s inappropriate, they are sometimes being overridden by their management and forced to allow encounters. (Even at accredited facilities!)

We do not know exactly what the penalties could be for that happening within an accredited zoo (yay badly implemented laws) but it typically comes down to being risk to a) the cat’s welfare b) the facility’s ability to have any big cats at all and c) someone, either the facility owner or the person offering, could go to jail or pay serious fines. There are two instances of this happening at AZA zoos that were leaked recently and we may now find out how bad it’s going to get for them.

Lots of facilities will have big cat pelts as educational biofacts that they will allow you to touch. You do not ever need to take the risk associated with touching a live big cat - generally anywhere, and especially in the US.

I had to turn this off, but it's something that allows Windows and anyone using your device to generate text/images.

my daughter cannot, through action or inaction, harm a human or allow a human to come to harm

a daughter at rest or in constant motion remains at rest or in constant motion unless acted upon by another force

daughters are never created or destroyed, only transformed

always treat every daughter as loaded, even if you know she isn't

7. You can fold my daughter through any two points.

10. When two or more daughters are offered for a phenomenon, the simplest daughter is preferable.

11. Any sufficiently advanced daughter is indistinguishable from magic.

12. Without a clear indicator of intent, it is utterly impossible to parody my daughter without someone mistaking it for the genuine article.

He doesn't tell them about the umbilical cord wrapped around his neck at birth, or the car accident when he was three, or the unwatched pool he had dragged himself out of when he was six. Because those were good fortune, surely, but not relevant, and his only point is to needle Dick until he huffs a laugh and his shoulders ease.

"I'm practically immortal," Tim says, and it's a joke again, but one that's less effective when pushed by a slurred tongue and swollen lips from a hospital bed. It's meant to comfort, to dull the sharp edge of fear that keeps slicing at them again and again. It's meant to minimize, to make the attack less than it was. To crush him less than it did.

After all, if he were immortal, it didn't matter what Jason had intended.

"I'm baaaaaasically immortal," Tim drawls, laziness masking deadened apathy. He is fatherless, familyless, friendless, backupless, Robinless, and now spleenless. He is too mono-focused to care, or so he tells himself. Not that it matters. He is alive, for whatever reason, which means he can continue his mission.

He misses the way Ra's eyes glitter.

"I think I'm immortal," Tim whispers, and for the first time, it's not a joke. He is sitting in the rubble of catastrophe, his skin coated with ash, and he lives. He doesn't know how he feels, other than grateful to be alive. He thinks he might be relieved, but the disbelief and shock is as thick on his tongue as the ash.

But maybe he feels happy, to be lucky for once. Because what is immortality but the ultimate good fortune?

"I'm immortal!" Tim crows, throwing himself after the villain of the week.

"I'm immortal," Tim taunts, toe to toe with rage and hate, knowing that though they can hurt him, they cannot best him, and he so loves to win.

"I'm immortal, I'm going to live forever," Tim sighs, at ease, unbothered by deadlines or due dates or time itself.

"I'm immortal."

Tim is kneeling in the dirt, mud and grass staining his dress pants. His eyes are as empty as his voice, echoing with all they do not have. He doesn't look at the others, only at the grave. It is not the first grave they've gathered around. It is the first one to stick. He knows this, feels it in his bones. That is a grave that will not be unearthed.

The grave is full and his heart is empty and he knows it is only the first.

He has spent his life fearing being forgotten, being left behind. Even the warmth and security of true family, this crazy, wonderful group of people he managed to collect around himself, wasn't enough to dismiss the fear, only to muffle it.

But now he looks from the grave to those gathered around him, tears still wet on their cheeks, and sees them as the dead walking that they are.

They will die.

He will not.

And he knows his curse for what it is.