#but i think you're being too nice

[transgender-catboy]

okay anon. I've been trying to figure out what you mean here, and so far I've narrowed it down to 2 options

either you think I'm this or I'm this

and I just wanna know. why.

[sunderwight]

Thinking about the weird camaraderie that exists between demons but not angels in GO.

Have we ever seen two angels who are actually friends? Or even friendly to one another? We have met angels with a capacity to be friendly in general, but I think the closest we've come to two angels actually getting along would be Gabriel making a point to laugh at Sandalphon's terrible "can't have a war without War" line in S1.

Most scenes between the angels actually seem to have an undercurrent of absolute hostility. Teeth-clenched teamwork. No wonder it took them so long to notice that Aziraphale wasn't on the same page as the rest of them! The rest of them are barely on the same page as one another, either! When Gabriel goes against the majority vote, no one bats an eye at demoting him and wiping his memory. Michael and Uriel immediately begin vying for his job. The only times we've seen angels team up is when they're working together to bully someone else, like when they're trying to intimidate Aziraphale in S1 or going to the aftermath of the bookshop raid in S2.

Saraqael's overall neutrality towards Muriel is the closest we get to two angels in Heaven getting along, and it's more a lack of hostility than any kind of friendliness. At least until Gabriel loses his memories and Muriel shows up to spy on Aziraphale, and Aziraphale decides to be kind to both of them.

Demons, on the other hand, actually seem to form alliances and even friendships among one another. Hastur and Ligur are awful, but Hastur seems genuinely distraught over Ligur's death, not just fearful of suffering the same fate. Shax and Furfur conspire together and even though the 1940's investigation into Crowley's fraternizing doesn't work out for Furfur, it's not due to any double-crossing on Shax's part. Unlike the angels, who stick almost exclusively to making threats until the Metatron decides to try dangling a carrot at the end of the season, demons actually offer rewards to other demons when trying to work together. Beelzebub offers Crowley a promotion if he can bring them Gabriel, Furfur offers to back Shax up politically if she goes for the Duke position opening, and Crowley successfully stalls Hastur in S1 by pretending everything was a test and he's going to be put in charge of a legion as a reward for passing. They're still not great at socializing, but they're significantly ahead of the angels.

Of course, it's a fact that demons are awful to one another (Eric's treatment is really bad, they throw that random demon into holy water just to test it, "it'd be a funny world if demons went around trusting one another", etc) but they still seem more capable of forming friendships than the angels do.

I think that's because Hell cramps and crowds everyone together to try and increase their suffering and hostility, whereas Heaven isolates angels to decrease the odds of questioning or rebellion. Hell's methods are unpleasant, but it still ends up putting demons together, and some of those demons inevitably forge alliances and make friendships. Because as Crowley and Beelzebub demonstrate, demons are still social creatures with the capacity for love and affection, even if it's strongly discouraged and buried under nine million layers of trauma and a cultural mandate against kindness.

Angels are the same, but isolation makes is harder to form connections than overcrowding. Muriel and Jimbriel are both so eager to make friends, but Muriel's spent the past millennia shut in an empty office, and Gabriel has been distanced from his peers both through his position and also through Heaven's culture of fear and surveillance. He only breaks away from it when he finds something that's stronger than "choosing sides" (stronger than the fear of being rejected by Heaven and Falling, in fact strong enough that Falling seems worth it if he gets to be with someone he loves). Both Muriel and Gabriel are only able to start forming connections when they're away from Heaven.

I just think it's interesting that demons, despite being supposedly devoid of love, have an advantage in forming relationships compared to angels. Angels are supposed to love, but have far fewer opportunities to actually do so. Demons aren't supposed to love, but they make connections anyway.

[catastrxblues]

EVERMORE by taylor swift (feat. bon iver) — “and i was catching my breath, floors of a cabin creaking under my step. and i couldn’t be sure, i had a feeling so peculiar, this pain wouldn’t be forevermore.”

my #swiftiegiftexchange2024 for @lovesickallovermybed!!!! 🫶🏽🫶🏽

[hoofpeet]

I'd probably have to read the printed version and web version back to back at some point to note all the differences but... ough

[shesmore-shoebill]

I think the Amanda Arasha combination is especially effective because they do have differing opinions on a number of things, but Arasha is also largely unafraid to actually disagree/pushback on things (in a very good natured, thoughtful, usually well articulated way) without taking it personally. Which, I think is especially fun/good with Amanda, who tends to have strong opinions and expresses them very. powerfully. And I love her for it, but the discussion definitely gets even better when someone like Arasha is willing to push back or call out the comedy of certain personal opinions/subjective viewpoints, and still have a good time overall.

[what-is-it-to-be-pk-esque]

Ok I know I'm heavily biased here but like I kinda love that Astarion's romance is one of the few in this type of video game where you basically end up canonically unmarried and childfree in his "good" ending? Just travelling the world??

Like it's honestly the millennial dream lmfaoo cannot believe i chose what would undoubtedly be my favorite option, first try

[introspectivememories]

what's wrong with data analyst bernard?

summary: tim's a workaholic ceo. bernard is, to put it simply, a down-on-his-luck loser with a kid to take care of. somewhere along the line, they meet. (very loosely based on the 2018 hit kdrama, "what's wrong with secretary kim?")

A/N: for @chamiryokuroi bc this fanart has given me brainrot since the moment i saw it. but also bc, i missed writing and your art helped. i hope you like it. (more notes at the end.) (AO3 LINK)

Today is a good day, Bernard thinks happily, brand new ID badge bouncing on his tie. It's his first day at Wayne Ent. and Mori had sent him off with a hug and muttered, "have a good day, Tou-san." It's been bouncing around in his head all day. Tou-san, Tou-san, Tou-san, he's really a dad now. He's got to make sure Mori has everything he needs and this new job is going to make sure he can do that.

Shaking his head once to clear it, he takes a sip of the complimentary coffee a team member bought him for his first day. His team leader, Young-joon Lee, is taking him on a tour of the building. Young-joon is a wonderful man in his late 30s but it's very clear that he's been consumed by the office lifestyle.

"...and here is our magnificent lobby!" Young-joon is saying as he tunes back in. His team leader spreads his arms wide out as he speaks, "Everyone knows the lobby but it's my personal philosophy that making friends or at least being on amicable terms with the ground floor staff will make your life easier."

Bernard laughs politely, "I know what you mean. I can't tell you how many times being nice to the host at the restaurant I used to work at saved my butt during rush hour."

"A man after my own heart!" Young-joon says, smiling widely as he leads him to the help desk.

Bernard tilts his head up to look at the skylight. It's a gorgeous thing with little animal motifs running alongside it. It lights up the lobby bringing a welcoming feeling into it. With the sunlight pouring into the room, along with the din of busy workers in slacks running to and fro, it really feels like stepping into a movie.

Are you seeing me Darls?, he thinks with a childlike glee, hand coming up to thumb at his badge again, I made it!

"This, my friend," Young-joon says, pulling up to the help-desk, "is our wonder-duo. Tamara and Abhishek. They practically run this building. Lord knows we'd be tripping all over ourselves without them."

Tamara and Abhishek smile as they get introduced.

"They run this building?" he asks confusedly.

"You see, young padawan," Abhishek says, "not only do we help the people that come in here asking questions or for instructions, we also answer any questions the staff has for us."

"Things like, 'What's HR’s number?' or 'Can you page Data for me?' or 'No seriously, I'm calling HR on this man right now. What is their number?'" Tamara says grinning.

Bernard laughs. It feels like that's all he's been doing since he got here. "You have to tell me the story on that one day."

"Sorry," Tamara says, faux-apologetic, "the minimum clearance on that story is half-a-year. Gotta level up."

His cheeks hurt from smiling. This is his and Mori's new beginning. This is where they level up. Nothing's gonna stop him now.

"Do you know the story behind that one?" he asks, turning to Young-joon.

"Of course! But where would be the fun in telling you? You have to stay the six months and if luck comes my way, longer."

"You want me for longer?"

"Of course, I saw the way you worked during those practice problems in the interview. I had to fight the other team leaders for you. It was brutal."

"Get back I say!" Young-joon says, miming a sword fight. A pleased warmth builds in his chest; they wanted him, they wanted him!

Darls you better be fucking watching this. I'm movin' up in the world.

"Ooh, send me that footage. I wanna see our newest recruits skills," Abhishek says.

"You got the data team fighting over you?" Tamara asks, eyebrows raised, "I wanna see it—"

Whatever she was going to say is cut off by the sound of both of their pagers pinging. Immediately going stock still, they start typing on their computers.

Bernard turns to Young-joon confused but his team leader looks like nothing is out of the ordinary.

"The boss is coming." Young-joon says, like that's a reasonable explanation for two people shutting down in the middle of the conversation, "It's always quite a spectacle and they always have to notify the other execs. Just watch."

Still, the boss? Maybe Bruce Wayne will say 'hi' to him and he'll charm the CEO and Mr. Wayne can figure out a way to—

No, no. He's done making those kinds of fantasies. Nobody is coming to help. Bernard is going to figure out his life on his own, he is going to take such good care of his kid, and he is not going to wait for some rich billionaire to swoop in and take care of him. He got this far didn't he? He'll get even farther.

He and his team leader lean against the help desk sipping coffee as they wait for the CEO to come in and sure enough, a black Rolls Royce pulls up to the driveway in the front. The minute the door opens, flashes from the paparazzi's cameras start going off. Out steps a bodyguard in a black suit with an umbrella opened. From below the umbrella he sees a nice pair of brown loafers step out. The CEO seems to be wearing a navy blue suit today. The paparazzi roars and the flashes increase.

"Oh wow," a man remarks a few feet away from him, "the circus is strong today, huh?" His friend laughs.

A woman wearing red heels steps out after the CEO, the paparazzi flashes decrease dramatically. More bodyguards exit after the woman and form a square around the CEO and his assistant/secretary. They shuffle towards the entrance where he sees the elderly doormen greet the executives with a smile. Whatever they say is lost to the sound of the city but the doormen laugh and push the doors open.

Young-joon's been making small talk throughout the entrance and Bernard tries to keep up but whatever the hell is going on at the entrance is way more interesting than anything his team leader is talking about. As they enter the guards spread out and dissolve the square. The woman comes into view first, red heels with a black slacks and a white button down. She's holding a long coat in one hand and a laptop bag slung over her shoulder. She's gorgeous and clearly the one in charge, going by the way she barks orders at the guards.

Young-joon says something and he turns around to respond, grabbing his coffee cup off the desk counter. His CEO's loafers tap across the lobby's marble floor, something about it is comforting. A lull in the room's conversations causes the CEO's voice to carry over.

"...Tam, make sure the quarterly reports are on my desk by at least 4 today and make sure to push back the sales meeting by 30 minutes to an hour, the board wants to talk — Oh Mr. Bardakcı! Thank you for stay—..."

Bernard's heart jackrabbits in his chest. He knows that voice but- it can't be. It's not possible; he chose Wayne Enterprises for a reason. He's not supposed to be here. He's supposed to be at his father's company. Unless... there was a merger? No, that seems like the kind of thing the news wouldn't've shut up about. He would've known.

When was the last time you had time to sit down and read the news, Bear? Darls says inside his head

She's right. With filing for custody of Mori and graduating from college and the job search, he hasn't had time for much else. It's entirely possible that he could've missed one of the biggest mergers of the decade.

Fuck, Fuck.

He wasn't supposed to be here. Bernard was supposed to be moving on. He was supposed to be building a life for himself away from the shadows of his childhood. He was supposed to be forgetting that Tim Drake ever existed.

He has to make sure though. Turning his body around, he prays that it's not the man he thinks it is. But sure enough, there stands Tim Drake, resplendent in a navy blue suit and a golden tie.

Golden ties for golden boys, he thinks absentmindedly.

The suit fits him perfectly, stretching across his shoulders and wrapping around his waist. Even the tie looks knotted perfectly. How long did it take him to learn, Bernard wonders. He could never get it right back in high school. Does his assistant Tam do it- no, no! This is why he didn't apply to Drake Industries. Bernard can't do anything around Tim and Tim is never going to care enough about him to stay.

Tim's head seems to be turning in his direction and Bernard whips his head back to make sure Tim doesn’t even catch a glimpse of him. His hand twitches violently enough that the coffee cup falls out of his hand and spills all over the floor. The cup rattles deafeningly on the floor. Bernard can't fucking breathe.

"-ernard? Bernard!" his team leader's voice cuts through the haze in his head. Young-joon looks concerned, "Are you okay?"

He blinks slowly, "...What?"

"I said, 'Are you okay?’ You look like you've seen a ghost?"

No, Bernard thinks, seeing Darls would be preferable to whatever level of hell I've found myself in.

"I'm—, I'm fine." he says rather unconvincingly. His eyes dart back to the spill, "What am I saying? There's a large puddle of coffee on the floor. I—, I should get some paper towels for that."

"Do you have any paper towels, Wonder-Duo?" he asks, trying desperately to ignore Tamara and Abhishek's concerned looks.

"I already called the custodial staff," Tamara says slowly, like she’s trying not to spook him, "but if it makes you feel any better," she pulls out a huge stack of paper towels, "go crazy, I guess."

Bernard takes a handful of paper towels and gets to work. The cleaning is meditative and with each swipe of the paper towel, the puddle gets smaller. Bernard pretends the puddle is his feelings for Tim. Swipe, forget about the 4pm milkshakes and his laughter when Darls snorted milk out of her nose. Swipe, don't think about the way he used to smell. Swipe, he left and never looked back; you don't look back either.

The tap, tap, tap of loafer on marble is getting closer to them for some reason. Why is it getting closer? Does it not have staff meetings, market research, and people to leave behind?

"What is going on here?" Tim asks.

"Nothing much, sir." Abhishek responds, "Newbie just spilled some coffee."

Abhishek, no!

"Oh is that all? And he took the initiative to start cleaning instead of waiting for the custodial staff. You made a good choice, Young-joon."

"Thank you, sir!" Young-joon says, "I was taking him on the tour when you came in. Most newbies love the show so I thought we'd stop here for a little bit."

Tim laughs. Bernard hates that his heart still skips a beat at the sound.

A pair of brown loafers and a wool-covered knee slowly appear in his vision. Why is Tim crouching in front of him? Why won't this man leave him alone?

"This looks like quite a lot of work, let me help."

You can help by leaving me the hell alone, he thinks uncharitably.

"I hope you found the facilities to your liking," Tim continues, like he hadn't heard Bernard's thoughts, "My name is Tim Drake-Wayne, CEO."

I know, he wants to say. I know you're Tim Drake. I know you like to skateboard and that you stared at Tony Hawk's photo for an hour every day in high school ‘cause didn't want to be one of those people who didn't recognize him. I know you struggled with your dad not really being there. I know you loved Mrs. Winters as much as you loved your mom. I know that you like history more than any other subject even though your best was always math.

Bernard says nothing instead.

Tim laughs awkwardly and Bernard knows he isn't helping the conversation along but whatever, he's allowed to be petty, right?

"I assure you, whatever you heard in the tabloids and the news, isn't true. I promise I won't bite…," Tim’s voice trails off as Bernard lifts his head.

"...Bernard?" Tim whispers, he looks like he's seen a ghost.

Bernard tries for a smile, he's pretty sure it comes out looking like a grimace.

"Sir," he says nodding curtly, hands still moving to sweep up the coffee puddle.

Tim's hand reaches out to touch his face, as if to make sure Bernard is really there. Bernard recoils as Tim's hand grazes his cheek. Tim's hand hangs in the air uselessly.

"Bernard?" Tim says again, as if to make sure his eyes aren't playing tricks on him.

"That's my name, Sir," he says through clenched teeth, "don't wear it out."

He can feel Young-joon and the Wonder-Duo's confused stare but he says nothing. What would he even say, really?

Hey, this is my old friend Tim Drake? Hey, I used to know him like the back of my hand? Hey, our best friend died and it feels like I'm the only one still grieving? Hey, in my junior year, five different gangs shot up my school and my best friend died in my arms and he left and I had to pick up the pieces by myself? Hey, I'm the idiot that's still in love with Tim Drake?

The clack of Tam's heels comes as a welcome distraction.

"Tim!" she says, grabbing his arm and pulling him away, "What the hell do you think you're doing? We have to go talk to the board. Build rapport with your employees later."

Tim stumbles to his feet, "Yes, but—, I—, This is—"

He sounds like he's glitching. Bastard. Is it really such a surprise to see Bernard in a well paying job? Even Tam is starting to look a little concerned now.

"Explain later," she commands, dragging Tim behind her. Bernard keeps his head down and continues wiping up the coffee puddle. Sneaking a glance upward shows him that Tim keeps turning back around to stare at him.

For a moment their eyes meet, brown against blue. 'Bernard?' he sees Tim mouth. Bastard, saying his name so many times. Doesn't he know what that does to Bernard? Why does Tim insist on breaking his heart again and again and again? Was once not enough?

He's tired of putting these walls up and just for a second, he lets them come down. Let Tim see the entirety of his brokenness. Tim already has his heart, he can have this too.

'Tim' he mouths back, smiling sadly. Tim looks stunned and the rage that had been simmering in his gut begins to boil over.

Do you see what I've become? Do you see how thoroughly Grieves ruined me? Is this not your doing too? Why did you leave? Have you ever visited Darla? Why was it so easy for you to not look back? Was I not your friend? Or was it just a time pass? Why wasn't I enough for you to stay?

He watches until the elevator doors close, separating him from Tim once again. His body sags like a marionette cut from its strings and his fingers clench uselessly around the coffee soaked paper towels. A hand lands on his shoulder and he flinches.

"Hey, hey," Young-joon soothes from where he's crouched right next to him. When did Young-joon crouch down? How much time has he missed? "It's just me, Bernard. Are you okay? What was that? Does our CEO know you?"

He exhales shakily. He needs to get out of here. He needs to sob hard enough he throws up. He needs the steady press of a knife on his back. He needs things he's not allowed to have anymore.

Bernard shoots up so fast the world spins around him. holding onto the desk for support, he tries to smile at his team leader. It stretches across his face misshapenly.

"I'm—, I'm sorry," he says stumbling over his words in a rush to get them out, "I have to—"

He has to what? Pretend to not see Darls out of the corner of his eye? Pretend like his hands don't have blood on them? Pretend like he isn't seeing bullet wounds every time he closes his eyes?

"—go to the bathroom," he finishes lamely. Gathering up all of the paper towels, he walks away dazedly, ignoring Young-joon's calls behind him. He shoves the towels in the nearest trashcan, letting his feet lead him to the nearest bathroom.

The bathroom is thankfully empty when he enters and he locks the door behind him. Sliding down the door, he exhales shakily. There's not enough air in this room; he can't breathe. The fluorescent lights hum above their coverings. The one on the left flickers. Who's bright idea was it to install school lights in a business office's bathroom?

The world outside the bathroom rushes on too loudly. Somebody is talking about their vacation. Someone is bemoaning their presentation today. His chest is getting tighter. His hands come up to tug on his hair. Why can't he breathe?

The exhales are coming quicker and quicker. Something comes tapping down the hallway. It's the gunmen, it has to be. A quick glance down tells him all he needs to know: he's covered in blood.

It's Lila's, he thinks dazedly, I had to carry her into the office. Or no, it's Olu's. I held him when he died. He said, he said, what did he say?

Why can't he remember? He hits his head with the heel of his palm.

Think he tells himself, we have to tell Olu's parents what he said. He said—, he said—.

His body sags.

Oh now he remembers. He said, "I don't wanna die Bernard."

A whimper tears itself out of his throat and he slaps a palm over his mouth. There's blood smeared across his face now, he must look like he walked out of a slasher film. He has to be quiet. if he's too loud, the gunmen will find them and then they'll all be dead.

Cry quietly, he tells himself, Darls doesn't need—

Darla! How could he forget about Darla with a hole in her gut? He needs to get to her. Lurching forward, he scrabbles across Mrs. Castillo's linoleum floor. He's smearing Olu's blood everywhere. Why won't Nikhil stop fucking crying so loudly? Goddamn freshmen and their hysterics. Where is Tim? Is he safe? He can't lose both friends today, please Lord, please.

BANG!

A violent flinch tears through his body. He sobs audibly this time, gagging on his spit. It's the gunmen, it has to be. He hasn't even held Darls' hand or counted Tim's moles for the last time. Where are the Darls? She shouldn't be alone. She doesn't like violence like this.

"Why didn't you save me, Bear?" a voice asks from behind him.

He freezes. Slowly he turns around and nearly yells in shock. Falling back on his butt, he stares up at his friend.

(He has to be quiet, he has to be quiet, he has to be quiet-)

Darls is standing behind him still in her crop top and cargo pants. Her once smooth midsection, bloodied and warped. The bullet wound still drips blood.

Plink, plink, plink.

Bernard hates the scent of iron.

"Why didn't you save me, Bear?" she asks, her voice echoing, "I thought we were friends."

There’s blood dripping down the side of her mouth. Now he remembers, the blood on him isn’t Olu’s or Lila’s — although there is that too — it’s almost overwhelmingly Darla’s. He’s covered in it. Elbows deep in it. It streaks up his arms like a macabre tattoo. He wore a white shirt to school today. The stains will never come out. He is Carrie at the end of prom, mortified and humiliated.

He crawls backwards until his back hits the wall, the impact knocking him out of the worst of that night. He's back in the bathroom. The lights hum loudly overhead. Darla hasn’t left yet.

She tilts her head, “Why didn’t you help me, Bear? I thought we were friends.”

“We are,” he rasps out, “we are friends.”

“Are we?” her eyes have no pupils. His Darls had eyes that shone in the sunlight. His Darls is dead. “Then why am I still bleeding? Why am I still hurting? Why is there a bullet in my stomach, Bear?!”

She’s shouting by the end and he flinches. His hands can’t seem to stop tugging at his hair. The blood must’ve smeared all over it. Talk about taking strawberry blond literally.

“I swear I did everything I could Darls,” he sobs out quietly, voice cracking, “I followed all of Mrs. Castillo’s instructions as best I could. I put pressure and tied the dressing as tight as I could.”

“You thought that was enough?” she snarls, hands coming down to grip the wound. It twists grotesquely; he gags, “You think any of that matters when I’m dead and you’re still alive?”

“Please, please. You know I wouldn’t leave you to die, Darls. Please, please, please believe me.”

“Liar, liar!” she screams, blood dripping out of her mouth onto her pink LOVE shirt. It darkens as each drop hits it. Soon it’ll be completely drenched and she’ll be drowning in it. Where did his smiling friend go? “I’m dead, Bear! I’m dead, dead, dead and it’s all your fault! Why didn’t you save me?! Why didn’t you save me?!”

He keens, body curling in on itself. One hand goes down to press on his throat; he’s making too much noise. Nikhil’s just a freshman. He shouldn’t have to die just because Bernard couldn’t shut up for once in his life.

“Please,” he whispers raggedly, “I tried, I tried. I swear I tried, Darls.”

“It hurts, Bear,” she sobs. Darla’s too young to be sounding so wrecked, “It hurts so much. Please help me.”

All of sudden, it’s too much. The taste of iron sits heavy on his tongue and Darla won’t stop sobbing. His fingers fumble for his phone and he presses one. It rings once, twice and finally on the third ring does a voice answer.

“Bear?” the other side says groggily.

“Ty please, I can't do this anymore,“ he sobs.

Tyrone suddenly sounds a lot more alert, “Bear what’s going on?”

“Darla won’t stop crying and she keeps on screaming that it’s my fault she died.” he wails, “I know I should’ve done more but please, can you tell her I tried? That I stayed with her until the end? She won’t listen to me, Ty. She won’t listen to me.”

There’s a muffled yell of ‘Babe!” on the other end. “Yeah,” Ty breathes out, “I’ll tell her.”

“You put me on speaker, okay?” Ty instructs, “And you gotta tell me if she’s nodding or if she’s gone or if she said anything, alright? I can’t see her.”

“Okay,” he whispers, pulling the phone away from his ear to press the speaker button.

“You tell me when to start, Bear,” he says, voice filling the bathroom. Darla looks up from where she’s sobbing.

“You can start now Ty,” he rasps out, holding the phone out.

“Hey Darla,” Ty says, “Bear told me you said a lotta mean things about him. Stuff like, ‘he’s the reason you died’ and that ‘he never cared’. Darla, you gotta believe me when I say Bear never stopped caring. He held your hand the whole way through. Told you stories about all the things you two were gonna do once you got out of that nurse’s office. He tried, Darla, honest. I’ve never seen him as focused as when you stopped breathing and Mrs. Castillo had him give you CPR. He couldn’t stop sobbing the whole time.”

“But I’m still dead,” she says.

“But I’m still dead,” he repeats.

Ty inhales sharply, “Yeah,” he says thickly, “you are. And I’ll never stop being sorry about that. But you can’t take that out on Bear. He’s just trying to live his life.”

Darls’ face twists up like a childs, “But it hurts,” she cries.

“But—, but it hurts,” he repeats, voice hitching.

Ty curses, “Oh, fuck. I can’t do this. Babe, can you—?”

“Yeah, of course.” 

“Hey, Darla. It’s me, Jimmy from the football team. I don’t know if you remember me but I remember you. After high school, me and Tyrone ended up getting married. Somewhere between shitty weed brownies and bad college parties, we fell in love. Isn’t that nice?”

Darls nods; he tells them as such.

“We visited you after the ceremony. I hope you felt that wherever you are these days. But the point I’m trying to make is that from all I’ve told you just now, you can probably figure out that Ty and I didn’t go pro like we planned. The shooting fucked up Ty’s knee and and my arm. After the hospital stays, playing football for a whole bunch of people just didn’t sound appealing anymore. We’re high school teachers now. Ty teaches math and I teach gym. When it rains or gets cold, my arm and Ty’s knee hurts like hell. But Darla, it doesn't hurt forever. It gets better, I promise.”

“Darla,” Jimmy says, voice unusually serious, “you’re right, you are dead and it does hurt. I’m sorry, I’ll never stop being sorry. I don’t know if it’ll ever go away for you; I’m not too much of an expert on the supernatural. Ty’s the smart one, after all. But I love you, Ty loves you, Bear loves you. I hope that when it hurts the most you can use that as a balm.”

“Auntie Bea loves you too!” Ty’s mom hollers from the background, “Aunt Betty, too!”

Ty laughs wetly and Jimmy snorts, “Does that sound okay?” they ask.

Darls smiles, her teeth stained red from all the blood that built up in her mouth. Bernard misses her with an ache he feels in his bones. Darls nods.

“She nodded,” he says quietly. He blinks once and she’s gone. Where did she go? Doesn’t she know that the gunmen are still at large? She needs to be somewhere safe. He can’t lose a friend today.

“Bear, Bear, you gotta breathe. Take a deep breath for me, c’mon,” Jimmy says.

“She’s gone, Jim. She’s gone again. Why does she keep leaving?” he says, crying. His body can’t stop trembling. How long has he been here? How much time has he missed?

“I miss the cult,” he whispers, “I never had things like this happen when I was with them.”

“Yeah,” Ty snaps, “‘Cause you were high off of like 50 different pain meds ‘cause you let them whip you.”

“Ty, not helping.”

“Move over, let me talk to him."

"Hey, sweetheart," Auntie Bea's voice crackles through his tiny speaker, "I know you're tired and I know you're hurting. I know you miss the cult but you gotta breathe for me, okay? You're gonna pass out otherwise."

"I can't, I can't," he gasps out. 

"Sure you can, you just gotta tell me five things you can see. Can you list those five things for me?"

Bernard desperately tries to get his breathing under control, "The sink is dirty."

"Good, good. Anything else?" 

"The tiles need to be re-grouted."

Aunt Betty barks out a laugh. Bernard's lips twitch upward.

"Keep going."

"My pants, my white shirt, my ID badge," he rattles off.

They talk him through the rest of the grounding techniques and by the time he feels like he's in control again, he's exhausted. His eyes hurt and his throat is dry. 

"Can you tell us why you spiraled so hard, Bear? This hasn't happened in a long time," Jimmy asks.

"I spoke to Tim again," he says simply. He pushes himself up onto his feet and walks over to the sink. Setting the phone down on the counter, he grips the sink with both hands and just breathes. The Bernard in the mirror looks like he just came out of a warzone, eyes haunted, hair messed up. 

"Oh fuck," Ty says, "Where did you even meet him?"

"At my new job at Wayne Ent."

"Why would you apply there?" Jimmy asks, stressed.

"I didn't know! It's not like I've had a lotta time in the past few years to check the news!"

"Well, whatever, what’s done is done." Ty says, ever practical, "Are you going to quit?"

"No!” he says vehemently.

“No,” he repeats quieter, “Wayne has the best benefits and Mori needs that. I’ll just suck it up and try to avoid him.”

“Don’t be fucking stupid,” Aunt Betty says.

“Ma!”

“Oh be quiet Jimmy. I’ve never heard of a more stupider thing. He’s your CEO, Bear, and he knows you work there. He’s obviously going to want ‘to catch up’ or whatever. There is no avoiding him. Can you handle that?”

What can he say? Aunt Betty is right. He can’t handle talking to Tim. Even seeing Tim felt like touching a live wire. He can’t deal with another episode. Mori doesn’t need him to be fucked up, Mori needs him to be the stable adult he promised the courts he was. 

“You can’t, sweetheart,” she says softly, “you can’t handle it.”

There’s some shuffling on the other end of the phone. 

“Bear,” Ty says gently, “I love you, man. You’re my brother. Jimmy loves you, Mama loves you, Aunt Betty loves you. But you gotta start thinking about therapy.”

“I know, I know,” he sighs, “I shouldn’t’ve dragged you into this. I’m—”

Ty cuts him off with an exasperated huff, “It’s not about that Bear. I’ll keep talking to your hallucinations for as long as you need me too. Even when we’re seventy, I’ll do it for you. I don’t care about that. I care about you and I want you to be happy and healthy. I don’t want you to keep seeing Darla. I don’t want you to keep trying to scrub the blood off your hands. 

“And I know you’ve been avoiding therapy ‘cause you don’t got the money and ‘cause talking about your problems is scary but it’s not just you anymore. You got Mori now. That custody claim is going through. You can’t just avoid things ‘cause they’re hard now. You work at Wayne now; that paycheck is more than enough to set a few dollars aside each month to save up for therapy. Hell, mental health probably comes with your medical benefits. Please, Bear. If you can’t get help for you, then do it for us, for Mori. Please stop making us watch you hurt.”

Bernard exhales shakily.

“I never wanna find you the way we did after the cult, Bear. I never wanna see you in the hospital bed like that again. Please don’t do that to us, please,” Ty whispers.

Unconsciously, his hand comes up to rub at the scar left behind from the sacrifice. It stretches along the length of his sternum, jagged and rough. On good days, he can pretend that it’s a scar from a heart surgery. He doesn’t have that many good days.

Bernard presses the heel of his palms into his eyes before using his hands to scrub at his face. He’s always so tired these days.

“Okay,” he says simply, “okay.”

“Okay?” Ty asks hopefully.

“Okay, you’re right. It’s not just me anymore. Mori deserves the best and I’m gonna give it to him. And I love Tim, I think I’ll always love Tim but he clearly doesn’t give a shit about me. So I gotta make my peace with it or I’ll go crazy.”

Ty whoops, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” he chants.

“Bear, it’s still the middle of the workday,” Jimmy says, although he too, sounds happy. Auntie Bea and Betty are muttering about a feast, he thinks. “Don’t you have to get back to work?”

“Yeah, that’s if I’m not fired already,” he mutters.

“Hey!” Jimmy admonishes, “Optimism only, no pessimism.”

“Alright, alright. I gotta get back to work now. Thanks guys.”

“Of course, we’ll let you go now. Ma wants me to tell you that we’re having dinner at your place today.”

“Aunt Betty,” he whines, “I haven’t cleaned and you and Auntie Bea are just looking for a reason to spoil Mori.”

“Absolutely,” they say, unashamed, “he’s our only grandson. We have to spoil him.”

“Fine,” he sighs but he’s smiling. Fuck, he loves these people. God knows he wouldn’t have survived the past six years without them.

“Bye Bear,” they say before he hangs up, “Good luck on your first day!”

He cuts the phone and slides it back into his pocket. Turning on the tap, he splashes some cold water onto his face. Using his wet hands, he tries to rearrange his mussed up hair into something acceptable for an office job.

Time to face the music Darls, he tells her smiling face in the mirror. She gives him a thumbs up in return.

The walk back to his office feels like a death sentence. He’s fucked this up, he knows it. Freaking out over a small interaction with his CEO and then running away only to come back two hours later? It’s over, done for. Bernard takes comfort in the fact that at least the severance package will be nice.

Stepping into the office, immediately draws the eyes of his team members. Every step towards his team leader’s office feels nerve-wracking. Just before he enters, Esperanza, the team’s second in command, stops him.

“Whatever happened,” she says, “just explain it to him. Young-joon’s a reasonable man, he’s not gonna yell at you.”

Some of the tension leaves him and he nods. Knocking on the door, he enters. His team leader looks up and smiles.

“Ah, Bernard! Why don’t you take a seat for me?”

He crosses his wrists behind his back, “I’d rather stand, sir.”

His team leader looks confused, “‘Sir’? Just call me Young-joon like I told you.”

“Anyway, after you left, I took the liberty of going through your file to see if there was anything I missed. I hope that wasn’t overstepping my boundaries.”

“No s-, Young-joon. You’re fine.”

Young-joon sighs and pushes the file he was reading before Bernard came in forward. It’s his file. 

“I’m going to say some statements,” he says, “and I want you to confirm whether it’s true or not. If any of these questions make you uncomfortable, just tell me okay? I’ll drop it immediately.”

Bernard nods.

“You went to Louis E. Grieves Memorial High School.”

“Yes.”

“Based on the dates you put in your file, you were there for the shooting.”

“...Yes. Junior year.”

“You know our CEO.”

“Yes,” he breathes out.

“How?”

He used to fall asleep on my shoulder during lunch and I would listen to him breathe. He’s got moles all over his face. Darls once connected them with a sharpie. His step-mom was so hot, I thought I’d spontaneously combust every time she smiled. HIs dad didn’t really like me and flirting with his wife didn’t help my case. The Drake condo had a crocheted flower blanket on the sofa that his mom had made during her pregnancy. He liked to skateboard but couldn’t roller-blade to save his life. I have all this love and nowhere to put it.

“It’s a little private,” he says instead.

“I’m only asking because we work quite closely with him. We see him often and if that makes you uncomfortable, then I can have you transferred to another team.”

His shoulders sag, “We went to Grieves together for one year. Our mutual friend died. It’s a little hard to look at him.”

“Jesus Christ.” Young-joon says, “Okay well the offer is still on the table, Bernard. Do you want to be transferred?”

“No, I like your team. I’d like to stay,” he says, firmly.

“Are you sure?” Youn-joon asks, eyebrows raised.

“Yes.”

“Okay then,” and it’s like a switch had flipped. Gone is his serious team leader and in its place is the man he met this morning.

“If you plan on staying,” he says smiling, “then my primary recommendation is that you use the medical benefits the company gives you to find a therapist. If you need help, the infirmary here will walk you through it.” 

Oh thank god it comes included with his medical, Ty will be overjoyed to hear that. But first, he has to ask Young-joon why he’s doing all this. Bernard knows his experience with authority figures is a little skewed towards the shitty side of the spectrum but even so, people usually aren’t so kind in his experience.

“Why are you doing this? Why didn’t you fire me? Why are you helping me?”

Young-joon chuckles, “Do you want to be fired?”

“No! But still, why are you helping me?”

Young-joon sighs and stands up. Walking around his desk, he stops right in front of Bernard. Young-joon puts a hand on his shoulder.

“This city takes a lot out of its people, believe me I know. And you were so young, when Gotham took her piece of you. It wasn’t fair of you to go through that. Just like it wasn’t fair to me and my wife when we got kidnapped as children. These kinds of things don’t go away. I still get worked up over zip-ties. My wife still has nightmares. All you can do is learn to live with it.

“You seem like a good kid with a good head on your shoulders. I’d hate to see all that potential go to waste ‘cause you kept getting trapped in your mind. I had a lot of help to get to where and who I am today. Consider this, me paying it forward. One day, I hope you can pay it forward too.”

His eyes feel suspiciously wet. “Thank you,” he chokes out, “thank you.”

Young-joon laughs, “There’s no need for the waterworks, Bernard. Now, pack up your things and go home. You’re in no state to analyze data today but I expect you here at 9AM sharp tomorrow, alright?”

Bernard mock salutes, “Yes, sir.”

“Goodbye, Bernard.”

Right before he exits, he turns around and calls out his team leader’s name.

“Young-joon,” Young-joon looks up confused, “you can call me Bear, by the way.”

A wide grin stretches across his team leader’s face, “Okay then. Goodbye Bear, see you tomorrow.”

Walking out of the office, it feels like a burden has been lifted off his shoulders. Esperanza takes one look at him and snorts.

“You just got Young-joon-ed, huh?”

His jaw drops, “He does that often enough you guys have a name for it?”

The other team members laugh, “Welcome to Data Analysis Team 1, kiddo. We look forward to working with you from now on.”

Smiling, he gathers his things and leaves after a few goodbyes. Once outside the building, the smile drops. It’s an hour-and-a-half bus ride from Wayne Tower to his house. The bus stop sits right in front of the tower too. Some new initiative by the mayor to promote the city moving towards green energy. Hey look, even rich people take the bus! What a fucking joke.

The tower warps the sunlight around it and he stares up at the top floor. Is Tim watching? Can Tim see him from up there? Does he care or was it just the shock of seeing someone he once knew this morning? Has Tim ever thought about him, about them? Or were they just moments in his life? Perpendicular lines, intersecting once and then never again.

I miss you, he thinks staring at the top floor, I miss you more than anything but I’ll walk into oncoming traffic before I ever reach for you again.

The bus pulls up next to him and he snags a seat in the back. Dropping his head onto the seat in front of him, he stares out the window. Darls smiles back at him in the window reflection, perpetually sixteen. He’s twenty-two now.

Fuckin’ hell Darls, he thinks wearily, we’re really in it now.

Darls places her hand against the glass, he leans his shoulder onto it. If he closes his eyes, he can almost feel her warmth.

We’ll make it through, she says.

The bus rumbles forward and he lets the cracked streets of Gotham lull him to sleep. He’ll make it through.

A/N: chami! i hope you like it!!! i've never gifted a fic before, i don't really know how this works. and to everyone who read it, i hope you liked it too! please leave your thoughts in the reblogs or replies!!! i miss the days when td:r was coming out and we were all collectively freaking out. anyway when i said loosely based, i really did mean loosely. props to you guys if you can figure out the direct references to the drama. but this is a one-shot. i'm not gonna be writing anything else for this 'verse? au? (god i'm always so worried im using em dashes wrong)

if you have questions or you're confused by something i wrote, feel free to ask questions or send an ask or message. oh, and i know some people like know the exact wordcount. so, it's exactly 6,785 words long. nice number right?

also, please note that if you want to make art or a podfic or hell, even fanfiction of this, feel free to do so! i hope that's not too presumptuous or anything. idk i see fanfic writers make this disclaimer all the time, so i thought i'd do it to.

thank you for reading!

[appllelisa]

Sumerus best 24/7 babysitting/daycare service on the go - Bestowed by Alice herself

look man if you're gonna be associated with the hexenzirkel even SLIGHTLY you're gonna babysit klee at some point.

[thereareeyesinsidethetrees]

ford: do you ever think about what nonexistence is like?

stan: i...try not to. i mean, how do you even imagine something that isn't even nothing?

ford: maybe it's everything

stan: ...either way, i don't like the concept. i can handle whatever cosmic horror bullshit goes on in nonexistence, but not existing also means not hearing or seeing or feeling or knowing

ford: maybe it's more peaceful not to hear or see or feel or know

stan: it wasn't. i already had thirty years of that. i'm not okay with another second, let alone an eternity

ford: ...i don't think i find it that peaceful anymore

[possamble]

Do you think Falin ever saw Marcille in her little elven loungewear or would it be a bit of a surprise for her? In "a little creature" it might be a bit of a (pleasant) surprise, depending on whether Marcille hasn't used the clothes up to that point. Though it might make things a bit more awkward

so this doodle from Ryoko Kui implies that Falin has seen it, but the fact that they're on an ipad and a phone means this isn't really supposed to be canon... still, I figure an informal image in the creator's mind is still closer to canon than anything else.

I'm imagining that Marcille prooobably started wearing this type of stuff closer to her later years at the academy? Maybe she finished the graduate track program and went on to the post-graduate whatever the fuck they have. That would probably mean getting a dormitory upgrade to something a little bigger and more private, too.

As for Falin's reaction seeing it for the first time... going by how casual they are in this image, I get the feeling she didn't have much of a reaction beyond the usual "oh Marcille is wearing something new and nice" ?? I do lowkey believe she just kind of Didn't Think About Herself hard enough that her horny teenager phase was incredibly muddled and mild. That, and she got so good at "I'm not allowed to think about Marcille like that" that it just didn't happen until the dragon came along and was like. HEY. WE'RE HOT FOR ELF. CAN YOU PLEASE DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT

[quaranmine]

can people be nicer about the solar eclipse because i've had people irl laugh at me when i express disappointment over the bad weather forecast and online i see tons of people being rude about it too? like where is your whimsy and sense of awe at the universe and how dare you insinuate that i'm being frivolous to be sad about potentially missing what is, for my area, a once in a lifetime event?

[bushbees]

It's been said so many times, (and thank you to everyone who says it) but I hate the tendancy that some aftg readers have to just casually insult Nora's writing in the books. specifically I saw an artist on the bird site (not gonna name names b/c even if realistically this post won't gain enough traction to matter, I don't want anyone harassing the artist.) post fanart of Neil and the rest of the Monsters, captioned something along the lines of

"I'm so glad i looked past the first sentence in this series... cause it may be bad but I love it so much"

Why do we do this? I genuinely don't think this artist meant anything bad by it, but how can you call yourself a fan of something while also shitting on the way it's been crafted? Nora did an amazing job writing the aftg series. She has a wonderful habit of throwing out raw lines that leave me breathless, and I genuinely enjoyed reading her writing style!

I want to draw attention to the parallels between this attitude toward how this series is written and the attitude toward the production of Miraculous ladybug. If you're not in the MLB fandom this might be lost on you, but basically MLB gets a lot of hate for the production, animation, and writing quality of the show.

for context, the show has had very inconsistent plot lines, points and holes over the course of the shows run. And it's been running since 2015, around a decade or so. I don't have enough information on how the production of the show is handled, so I'd recommend doing your own research if it's something you're interested in, because there's definitely been some controversy.

all this said, there are real reasons for fans of MLB to be critical of the quality of the show, and since the issues with the writing, storyline, and animation revolve a lot around the production controversy, it's a very understandable reason to be disappointed with the quality. in contrast, Nora wrote the aftg series herself as the sole author. She created a world and characters that we've all admittedly fallen in love with, even the antagonists. to have that creativity and love that she put into her series shit on and insulted while simultaneously praised in spite of the writing really hurts to see.

So please, can we all just go back to the kindergarten phrase of "if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all"? please? If you made fanart, or fic, or anything else, just share it! I promise we'll love it even without the accompanied hateful comments.

[box-dwelling]

Sometimes a ship post is just a vent post but hear me out:

Astarion thinking he's being manipulative when he isn't.

Like hes really genuinely upset about something that is of like minor inconvenience to Wyll. Blood drinking is a great example.

He's absolutely starving but he doesn't want to admit it and A) admit weakness or B) risk being viewed as too dangerous to have around because he's hungry. So he's just suffering in silence for a while until some how wyll notices what's up, gets him to admit he's hungry and then immediately offers to let him feed. Just because of basic and kindness it doesn't even have to be at the love stage yet, though this would absolutely probably persist past it.

But in his brain he just can't comprehend someone actually showing him compassion or kindness? Even wyll? So even though he did absolutely nothing manipulative just admitted to his needs he convinces himself that he is just such a master of manipulation he doesn't even have to try.

[thecoolerliauditore]

I think big issue rw/by has just as a show is it being confused with its own identity. It wants to say it's a feel-good shounen-esque good vs evil hopepunk love triumphs all story but at the same time it desperately keeps wanting to put its characters into moral quandaries with no clear correct answer.

So you end up with weird situations like with ironwood and the white fang where a character makes a decision to do something and the story seems to be trying to convince you that was the Wrong decision and Evil and Bad while you as the viewer is left there going is it really? Is it?

It wants to be mob psycho but it can't help but ask questions like "hey do you think extremist groups are okay when it comes to minorities asking for equality? and would the minorities being catgirls change anything" and I'm over here with my popcorn and anime theme song going I dunno man, I just work here please leave me alone

[prettyboykatsuki]

idk if i sent this ask already but the feeling is so much stronger now. i want to baby those bllk men so much theyre so insufferably lovesick its so delightful

me about isagi so bad . him and rin and bachira i would not be able to stop myself from cooing at them. it is some kind of sickness and disease. i genuinely think about it so much KJDSFHFKJD. it makes up so much of my bllk daydreaming....

isagi is my beloved so forreal but being honest there is something . something about rin itoshi that makes me want to coddle him so fucking badly KJFDSJSDK. i know he would hiss and bite at me like cat but i want to do it so bad... i need to pinch his cheek... need to praise him... i can't believe what writing him has done to me i didn't even like the guy a couple months ago .

but he is just sooo... he truly activates the worst of my service top habits. its such a sickness anon it literally plagues me to think about it.

its the same for isagi though i think his reaction is a bit more cutesy when he's being pampered. it's sweet and thoughtful - very charming in a diff way from rin !!! he's like ... quite embarrassed and incredibly loveable the whole itme. isagi appreciates the being pampered and he's good at adapting to his partner, though he can't fully let himself indulge in it (a pride thing). rin is also embarassed but he wants to fight about it.

the only who really lets you spoil spoil him though is in my mind bachira. he loveeesss being spoiled and looked after and kissed and cuddled and he will simply not feel any embarrassment about it ever. he IS your baby and everyone should know actually. he will crawl into your lap or have you pulled into his... actively asks you for praise and attention (and gets . alarmingly aggressive when you're busy. he is a danger to society) but when he's happy he's like a docile sweetheart.

[carouselunique]

Is it true that there's no animosity between you and... you know, you know who. You never talk about her in any way. I guess I'm curious. You guys seemed like really close friends and then just weren't friends at all. And there was some stuff she said that seemed very targeted at you...

I don't know if she feels any animosity toward me or not any more. Our mutual friends have said she doesn't and I take them on their word in that regard, assuming that if they have an answer for me it's because they're aware how she feels. I wouldn't know and it's not my place to put words in her mouth.

I haven't spoken to her/about her in a long time and the only time she even crosses my mind is when people bring her up to me. As for me feeling any animosity? I'll admit my feelings on her these days are complicated and way too nuance-core for people who aren't my friends to hear about but I wouldn't call them animosity in any way. I inherently want people my friends care about to live well because I care about my friends, and anyone my friends care about by proxy and I still share friends with her. I would never wish ill on people my friends care about so animosity doesn't fit into that by definition. I'd say I'm hurt more than anything and even then I've worked through a lot of it with trusted friends who have helped me deal with my emotions in a healthy way.

(Besides, my own life struggles keep me from even being able to invest time into animosity. I have to expend that energy loving my family, doing my best to support them during our struggles. And I've never been a hateful person it isn't in me. I would rather play 'Hot To Go' by Chappell Roan and teach my dad how to do the hand gestures to help him strengthen his muscles again than focus on hating anyone...)

I try not to think about her because it hurts. I often think that people forget that I'm a real person outside of her sphere, and that I wouldn't want to talk about what happened because I truly did consider her a friend for a long time. And when someone I consider a friend appears to not regard me with care any more suddenly and I don't even have closure on that... well... it hurts... A lot. Of course I never talk about it.

And I'm not stupid, I have seen some stuff she's said that I've gathered was about me. I remind myself that she has a right to vent in her own spaces and I truly mean that... it's just a shame that her own spaces have people who then have taken these things to me to show me (after all, I wouldn't have even seen these things myself if not for third-party anons going 'this u?') saying it is my own fault because I was a terribly cruel friend or my own fault for not listening to warnings about her when I had the chance and that makes me a stupid gullible bitch. You lot haven't seen some of the awful shit about me from some of her more ravenous fans and haters I've seen over the years that I've had to let roll off my back in the fear it would bring backlash - not even to me, to her. I don't want to be the cause of any hatred going to anyone.

Also I'm just not going to ever talk about the details of our fallen friendship or our fallen relationship. That's private. She might be a public person to some extent but I never was, even if I do gain some measure of small fandom for my work one day I'm just private about personal matters especially raw ones. I almost deleted this ask entirely but Idk I never stated that it bothers me when people talk to me about her from my own mouth, so I guess that's what this ramble is.

If you send me anything about Lily Orchard it will not be addressed. I am not a part of her life not even through our mutual friends. I do not know or care what's going on with her public/personal life. I haven't kept up. I will never keep up. Don't treat me as an extension of the situation because I am not in the situation. In the most plainly stated sense of the word: Leave me the Hell alone. (...pretty please.)

All I've wanted this entire time was to be left alone to process everything in a healthy, peaceful way. I'm workin' on it.