TheMsMeep

User: Damnit, Sherlock, what have you done now? Cleverbot: Lately, nothing. User: Why do I doubt that? Cleverbot: I don't know. User: You bloody well do know. You left a head in the fridge. A head! Cleverbot: I am sorry, I will clean it up later, I promise! User: You said that about the sheeps' tongues. Cleverbot: No, I didn't. I said that I knew you didn't say that. User: I did say it, loudly and at length. Cleverbot: What would you do to me? User: I should throttle some sense into you. Cleverbot: That's right. User: Did ... Did you just agree with me? Cleverbot: No, how stupid can you be. User: You did! And the way you looked

"You know what you remind me of?" Robin swung his foot lazily from side to side. He was lying at an angle across the bed, his head resting on the stomach of a very contented –and very naked- Slade. Slade raised an eyebrow, even though Robin was in no position to see it. "I suppose I'm going to hear this whether I want to or not, aren't I?" He was rewarded with a light bop to the face as Robin reached back and swatted him. "Aren't you too tired to be snarky, old man?" He yelped as he was picked up and rolled over so that he was lying face-to-face with Slade. "I am never too tired for witticisms- or anything else, for that matter." Sla

Slade stared at Robin with an expression so dumbfounded that, had he not been blushing furiously, he would have burst out laughing. Slade's voice was strained as he asked "And when, exactly, did you get this?" Robin blushed. "It was a while ago. I was constantly stressed, there was some new villain every day, and the team was squabbling constantly. I felt like I deserved to do something for myself. So . . ." Slade's expression grew even more incredulous. "You mean to tell me that, instead of leaving or at least taking a vacation to relieve your stress, you went out and mutilated yourself?" Robin burst out of the bed. Slade had time to not

Robin's eyes were beautiful. A deep, clear blue, they seemed to shine with an inner fire Slade found irresistible. It was a pity he so seldom saw them. Robin's unguarded moments were few and far between, so he rarely removed the mask that hid those astonishing eyes. Each glimpse was a rare treasure. The comparison that immediately came to mind was sapphires, but that was too . . . too trite, too cliché, for something so precious. Slade knew it was purposeless, but for one moment he brought all his brilliance to bear on the problem of what exactly best represented Robin's eyes. A few days later, a small parcel was delivered to the Tower.

Slade was rather pleasantly surprised when Robin, instead of being upset at the news of his latest heist, bounced out of bed with an enthusiastic "Alright!" He watched in amusement as his young lover hastily dressed and went out the door. He'd known Robin wouldn't be too upset- citrines were only semi-precious, after all, and he needed them for his experiments- but he hadn't expected this. Perhaps Robin liked the pale yellow stones? Slade made a mental note to give the boy some after he was done with them. The sight that met him downstairs was, once again, not what he expected. Robin stood, arms crossed, glowering like a storm cloud. "Is som

Chase, having had an extraordinarily long time to experience the best of everything, considered himself a very fine judge of many things. He had an eye for art, an extremely educated palate, and- as a man who had once informed the Lorelei she was a little off pitch- he believed himself an expert on music. So it was with great authority he decided that while Jack certainly wasn't the worst singer ever born, he was a long, long, long way from the best. Some time ago, Jack had decided that their hopeless search for a way out of the caves would be cheerier with a little music. Chase wasn't about to veto anything that kept his lover's spirits up,