#sad little rich boy

[rantingandramblingsblog]

Just Quentin Collins. 😍

P.s. Dark Shadows is the superior pop vampire saga. 😤😂

[lordandmistress]

Okay, I found a Lex Luthor playlist with Lucky by Brittney Spears. 10/10 listening experience they understood the assignment.

[captain--miracle]

Oh, golden boy, you shined a light on our home

And at your best you were magic we were sold

And the toughest part is that we both know

What happened to you

Why you're out on your own

Bleachers - Merry Christmas, please don't call

[condohavenoking]

'Just put the gun to the head and...pow!' 'You can't just kill someone 'cause of the way they look at you!' 'You should see your face, dude.' —Silent Hill 2 Remake (2024)

[recurring-polynya]

thank you shinigami zukan you had no idea how much i needed that one minute and thirty seconds of rukia and renji shouting at each other

[asmo-cosmetics]

i am about to be just as annoying about lucio as i am about julian i CANNOT with this shit

list of things lucio has done wrong, according to morga:

- was born

- was sick

- did not enjoy chores

- ran away when he was getting attacked by a bear

- had pretty fantastic survival instincts especially for a child that age?? if morga hadn't killed it the musk bear probably would have left on its own eventually?? "hide and wait for help" is literally what we teach children to do in emergencies irl?? i hate this bitch

- "turned into a liar" (read: was lied to by her so many times that she literally skewed his perception of himself)

- chose a different name (very cool, "identity inclusive" game studio)

- took the hint of something she wanted him to do (kill his father)

- realized he probably could not do that the exact same way his mother would have done it because they are two different people with two different sets of abilities

- found a clever way around that in order to accomplish the goal in his own way without doing something he had less confidence in his ability to achieve

- expected love in return for doing as he was told

- ran away when she tried to kill him

- ran away when she tried to kill him 2, the sequel

hello??? HELLO??? i'm losing my everloving mind. as always not a debate i will block you 🩷

[brain-bumbler]

Whumptober Day 2

Thermometer | Delirium

They don't care about you.

"Stop that!" Grisol sniffled loudly, his clogged sinuses aching. The nurse dabbing his brow flinched.

"My prince, please-"

"Shut up!" he demanded again, face scrunched up in a tight scowl, throat raw like sandpaper. His normally commanding and strong shouts were reduced to crackly cries.

He lashed his arm out and it made contact with the woman's hand, making a sharp smack. She yelped, and his hand stung. Tears pricked in his eyes from the pain. How dare they let him be injured as he lay, sick and weak in bed. He was their prince!

"Your highness, there is no need for such behavior." The nurse's tone was polite, but dry and tired. She'd said that half a dozen times today.

"You aren't doing it right!" The water from the cloth dripped into his eyes when she pressed too hard. His mother's touch was more gentle.

He could remember when he was younger and she sat in his nursery when he was sick, dabbing at his brow, while the Gzar stood by his bedside.

"Please save your strength, Prince." The nurse sighed again, wiping his forehead. Another set of hands poked the thermometer to his mouth, and yet another were tugging at his blanket. Stop touching me!

"Quiet! Where is my father?" His throat stung, his chest ached. He glared around the room, the uniforms and faces of nameless servants blurring together.

"Prince Gristol," a maid spreading smelly herbs around the bed tittered nervously, "his Majesty is very busy. I'm sure he will come visit-" Another maid, older, grabbed her arm to stop her.

"SHUT UP! GET OUT! GET OUT YOU STUPI-" As his voice cracked, his sore throat clenched and gave out, his shrill cry cut short. When his voice disappeared, he threw himself back, kicking and flailing and hissing for everyone to leave, smacking every hand that got close again.

Slowly, the maids stepped back, shuffling out of the room. And the little prince was left alone, his tantrum dying down as he was finally given peace from the poking and prodding and hushed whispers by his bedside.

He curled up under his thick pile of goosefeather blankets. When father came he'd tell him how they'd treated their future Gzar, and they'd all be punished, and from then on only his mother would be trusted to watch over the gem of the country. His father would praise him for putting his foot down on the incompetent servants who dared to... who dared to say...

Hours later, Prince Gristol woke, too sore to move, a wet silk handherchief pressed to his forehead. Water streamed down his head and soaked his hair and eyes. The whispers of servants passed over his head like mosquitos hovering.

"Mother," he groaned, "father." The speaking stopped abruptly, but when he could do nothing else, it continued as if he'd never spoken at all.

[catharusustulatus]

Imagine Steve’s mom does run the dog salon in town, she inherited it from Steve’s grandma in a Petco type deal, and she’s great at it, ties ribbons around the dog’s collars when they’re done, has a knack for flair.

His dad is always away at some “conference” doing insurance shit or back room deals, Steve doesn’t really know. But he and his mom both know what his dad is doing after the conferences are over, and it’s driving them both crazy. Driving Steve’s mom into the ground, knowing her husband is never home and when he is he’s getting ready to leave. Steve and his mom look alike, hazel eyes and coifed auburn hair and covered in freckles and moles. And they know Steve’s dad can’t stand it. They know beauty isn’t enough.

His mom is always half drunk on wine, sharing gossip with whoever comes in on her shifts and Steve ends up finding her at the bar down the street after work, and has to tuck her into bed before she passes out god knows where. And he sleeps downstairs or at Robin’s house, because his house is just the hole of his missing father and the shadow his mom is becoming, beautiful lipstick and red nails and making him scrambled eggs but also popping pills and never eating the eggs herself. Her hair is always perfect. Her makeup is always perfect. She goes to Church, grooms Father’s terriers for free.

Just like the hair and the freckles, Steve inherits the gossip, but it’s different hearing about his mother from people returning VHS tapes. “Saw her at the grocery store, she seemed sad. Your dad home yet?” Some guy asks while sliding Top Gun across the counter. It’s an open secret, at this point. All Steve can muster up is “Uh yeah, um. He should be back this weekend,” before he has to cry in the stock room.

[kaedeichinose]

i have got to stop looking at cid's tits every time i do praetorium. i cant post about them every time.

[macchiatosdumptruck]

Feeling normal about Terry Silver giving Daniel another warning before their final fight. Another out i.e., "You can either accept that..."

Starting off the convo somehow removing himself from the previous assault: "You got your ass kicked, Danny boy." Instead of, "I kicked your ass, Danny boy." Somehow removing personal blame and responsibility.

He's so confused/confusing! I still maintain that if Daniel gave him a hug his brain would implode and he'd do whatever Daniel asked of him

HMMMMM.

I had never noticed that phrasing. 👀

But yes, it is textbook manipulative behavior, distancing himself from his own actions while placing blame on the victim.

He is so confusing. Like. We spend so much time trying to figure out his character motivations. If we were looking for an easier way out we could simply say "the writing is inconsistent" but here we are! And really the only in canon logical explanation that makes sense for Terry's confusing behavior is his own sense of confusion with his wants, needs, identity, and relationships, is that even the man himself is in a state of flux.

But I've already yelled about those sort of head canons before.

It is interesting because Terry seems to react very positively to affection. When he was a young Twig and John stood up for him that meant everything. When he was convinced to come back into the fold ("Danny boy?!") It was only after John had buttered him up, made himself open and companionable ("not all of it was good, but the good times were pretty good, remember?") (Paraphrased) (also, yet again, classic manipulation technique) that Terry came on board, bored with his false and empty life, craving something real.

It's implied he comes from a cold and distant family. He has no friends other than John. He became obsessed with Daniel the moment he saw him. He had to pay people to hang around him. (Mike, Dennis, Snake)

All of which is to say, I don't know if he would explode and be magically fixed by Daniel's affection, but he wouldn't know how to deal with it that's for sure.

Oooh. This is giving me dark!Daniel AU ideas. Daniel being fully aware of Terry's mental instability and using their relationship, his affection, to keep Terry in check.

[beloveds-embrace]

part 2 of baker!reader + do not ever ask me to write accents lmao i suck at those 💀😭 and a huge thank you to all the sweet and dessert suggestions! i couldn't add all of them, but oh my god did i love all of them and choosing between them was sooo hard (that's what she said). if your dessert didn't make it here im soo sorry 😭

It was a quiet morning when you finally decided to reopen the bakery. The town had been whispering, speculating about the sudden disappearance of your husband—tragic, they said, to be found mauled by a bear in the woods. You hadn’t shed a tear, hadn’t flinched at the news. Maybe that was cruel of you, but after what you had endured, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel anything for him anymore. Not fear, not sadness—just relief.

And now, with the bakery open once again, you felt lighter. Freer.

The 141 boys were there first thing, as you had hoped. Each one walking into the cozy space like they belonged there. Their heavy, winter boots made the wooden floors creak, their towering frames somehow making the space feel intimate rather than intimidating. You smiled as the familiar smell of fresh bread and sugar lingered in the air, the warmth of the ovens cocooning you and the rest of the bakery in comfort. Free from that terrible man you’d called a husband, it was as if the world itself was taking on a more vibrant color.

“Morning, sweetheart,” John greeted you, his eyes crinkling beneath his hat, though there was something watchful in his gaze.

“Bonnie,” Johnny chirped, leaning on the counter, his eyes sparkling as they usually did when he spoke to you. “Place smells heavenly as always.”

“You’re open today, huh?” Kyle said, grinning as he eyed the display of pastries lined up neatly behind the glass. “Missed our favorite baker, honestly.”

Simon didn’t say anything at first, just gave you a long, steady look from behind his mask. You knew he had seen the signs. He was the only one who had seen the bruises, had taken your hands so gently that day and whispered that promise. You hadn’t asked for it, hadn’t said anything in return, but you had trusted him all the same. You are glad you did. You are so glad it’d been him to see.

Now, as you wiped your hands on your apron and stepped out from behind the counter, your heart was lighter than it had been in months. “Everything’s on the house today,” you said, your smile wider than it had been in ages. “For you guys, at least. After all… I’ve got a few new things for you to try.”

Soap raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Is that so? Then we’re in for a treat, eh boys?”

You went back to the counter, pulling out a few trays and plates, your hands moving quickly as you started setting them down in front of the men, watching their eyes light up at the spread. “I’ve been experimenting,” you said, your voice light, almost teasing. “For John, I’ve got pecan pie. Thought you might like it—something a bit rich, a bit warm.” Like you, goes unsaid but you hoped he still heard it.

John’s eyes gleamed as he accepted the slice you placed in front of him. “Always knew you were a mind reader,” he murmured with a chuckle, cutting into the pie and taking a bite. The smile that spread across his face was slow, but appreciative.

“For you, Kyle, lemon meringue tarts. Something sharp, refreshing. A little tangy,” you said, setting the plate in front of him. “And a bit sweet, too. Had a feeling you’d like it!”

Kyle laughed, picking up the tart and admiring it at first. “You know me too well.” He took a bite, his eyes widening at the burst of lemon on his tongue and then groaning in delight. “Perfect, as always.”

Simon watched you closely, and when you placed a plate of apple fritters in front of him, his gaze softened just slightly. “Made these with you in mind,” you said, your voice gentle. “Thought you’d appreciate something classic, Si. Simple, but comforting.”

He didn’t say anything at first, just nodded in that way of his, taking the fritter in his gloved hand. When he took a bite, his eyes closed briefly, and you could see the silent approval in the way his shoulders seemed to relax ever so slightly.

“And for you, Johnny,” you giggled, setting down a small bowl of Cranachan in front of him. “Thought you might like something traditional- whisky, raspberries, oats, and cream. Feels like a bit of home, doesn’t it? At least I hope so. It was my first time making it.”

Johnny beamed all the same, eagerly reaching for a spoon. “Ah, bonnie, you’re spoiling us.”

But it wasn’t just them you were thinking of. You had made a fresh batch of focaccia bread for yourself, but this wasn’t just any bread- it was bold, spiced with rosemary and topped with chilli flakes and garlic. It was a reflection of your own newfound boldness. You’d been quiet, subdued for so long. Now, you wanted to feel alive again.Perhaps it might seem corny, but this focaccia bread meant to signify that for you.

You set a slice of the focaccia on a plate for yourself, taking a bite as you sat with them, your smile not faltering for a second. It was savoury- settling warmth in your stomach. “I think this might be my new favorite, actually.” you said with a soft laugh. In your mind, you were already thinking of making and selling more of it.

They didn’t say much in response, still tasting their own desserts, but you could feel their appreciation, their understanding, in the quiet way they accepted it.

The rest of the bakery was alive with the smell of freshly baked treats: rich brownies, soft sugar cookies, fluffy cronuts, and delicate eclairs. Tres leches cakes sat next to pumpkin pies, while apple and custard empanadas filled the air with their sweet, warm scent. Cheesecakes, cardamom rolls, strawberry lamingtons—the selection was almost overwhelming, but everything sold well. Especially the bear claw pastries. You smiled softly to yourself at the irony. The bearclaw pastries might also be your new favorite, right alongside the focaccia.

Johnny noticed it immediately, the little twitch of your lips, and raised an eyebrow. “What’s so funny, bonnie?”

You waved him off, shaking your head. “Oh, nothing. Just… the bear claws. They’ve been selling really well lately. Thought it was… fitting.”

Simon’s eyes flicked to you, then to the bear claw pastries sitting neatly in a display case. A slow understanding crossed his gaze, but he didn’t say anything. Just a slight nod, the corner of his mouth twitching, the silent acknowledgment of the truth that you all shared. You had no doubt the others knew about it as well- maybe even had a hand in it. Such incredible men.

And for the first time, standing in your bakery, surrounded by warmth and the quiet camaraderie of the men you had come to trust, you felt a sense of peace wash over you. The past was behind you. Now, you had a future to look forward to—one filled with new beginnings, layers to unfold like a mille-feuille crepe cake, and the quiet reassurance that you were no longer alone.

“Here’s to new beginnings,” you said, raising your cup of coffee, your smile bright and genuine.

The boys raised their cups in return, their expressions soft but full of unspoken promises. “To new beginnings,” they echoed, and for the first time in a long time, you believed it. Especially because you could see the way they were looking at you.

masterpost

[corrodedbisexual]

Thinking of Steve throwing Eddie his birthday party and setting up a big surprise in his backyard that gets most of the older Party's eyebrows raised and Robin remarking "Dingus, you know Eddie's turning twenty-one not twelve, right?" But Steve's grinning in pure satisfaction, his eyes on Eddie, whose unhinged scream drowns out most of Robin's comment and even the kids' combined shrieks of excitement.

It was something Eddie only once mentioned, when Steve was talking about his own childhood and birthdays, back when his parents hadn't been so distant yet. Eddie rolled his eyes at Steve's expressed surprise that he'd never been in a bouncy castle, "Never exactly been on the rich kids' guest lists, Stevie." And it was such an off-hand, seemingly indifferent remark, but Steve had gotten to know him enough to see right through to the sadness, and make a note in his little mental heart-shaped notebook that held all things Eddie.

Hence, the big bouncy castle Steve's now rented for the occasion, for the boy who is now officially an adult of legal drinking age, but is racing the young teens with the same childlike glee in his eyes, if not greater. Only to stop halfway, make a U-turn towards Steve to smack an exaggeratedly loud kiss on his cheek, shake him by the shoulders, blurt out "I love you so much" and run away again, kicking his sneakers off on the way, seemingly unaware in his overexcitement of what he just said because they are, of course, not even dating.

(That leaves Steve blushing, lovestruck and hopeful about his plan for later, after everyone leaves, to press Eddie against one of those bouncy walls and finally kiss him.)

[tender-rosiey]

Sharing with you because your dad series is my favorite dad gojo series.

I saw this commercial for some medication but in the background there was this dad winning a fair game to get their kid a toy. Satoru energy <3

claw machine — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: this took so much time and I STILL hate how it turned out; i am so sorry but i can't pour anymore energy into this </3 pls lets forget about it

“papa, that one please!”

satoru glances down at his son with a playful smirk, “only that one?”

your son’s face twists in thought, his tiny brows furrowing in confusion, “what do you mean?”

satoru crouches down to meet his son’s gaze, his eyes twinkling with mischief, “I mean, I could get you a loooot more, you know.”

s/n shakes his head resolutely, “don’t wanna.”

satoru’s eyes widen slightly, and he tilts his head, “really? why not?”

s/n shifts his gaze to his feet, his voice small and earnest. “mama said she wanted a new plushie, and I wanted to get her one, but…” he looks up at satoru, his voice tinged with sadness, “I can’t reach the joystick.”

satoru smiles. he lets out a gentle chuckle, his hand reaching out to pat s/n’s head reassuringly. “that’s quite the predicament,” he says hums. “how about I lift you up so you can try and win it for her?”

your son’s eyes light up but then dim, as he frowns, “and if I don’t?”

satoru’s laughter is warm and rich as he places his hands on s/n’s shoulders. “then I’ll win it for you, and you can tell mommy that you got it for her, okay?”

s/n’s face beams with happiness, and he wraps his little arms around satoru’s leg in a grateful hug. “thank you, daddy!”

satoru’s heart swells with pride as he scoops your son up with ease, his strong arms cradling him securely. “let’s get that plushie!” he declares with a grin.

"yesss!!"

as they approach the claw machine, satoru’s strides are confident, each step resonating with purpose. satoru carefully sets s/n down in front of the machine, adjusting the controls so he can reach them.

“hold on tight,” satoru quips. from his elevated position, s/n lets out an excited squeal, his voice brimming with excitement, “papa, I’m so high up!”

satoru’s grin widens as he holds s/n steadily, his arm resting protectively around him, "must be nice, huh? a day from papa's prespective?"

"what's pespecive?"

satoru pauses, "oops, nevermind."

your son shrugs before his small fingers grip the joystick with determination, his face a picture of concentration. he narrows his eyes, and a few beats pass, before he murmurs, “papa, why is it not moving?”

satoru’s laughter is soft and affectionate as he observes the scene, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “that’s because you aren’t moving the stick, s/n.”

“oh.”

s/n frowns and adjusts his grip, slowly maneuvering the joystick with newfound confidence. satoru’s chuckles were a warm backdrop to s/n’s focused effort. “that’s it, keep going! you’re doing great! my strong son!”

s/n grins happily at your husband's praise and happily presses the button.

the claw descends with a slow, dramatic movement, and your son’s face lights up with a triumphant gasp as it successfully grabs the plushie. satoru guides the claw back to the prize chute with a steady hand, while s/n starts wiggling with happiness in his arms.

“you did it, champ!” satoru cheers.

he retrieves the plushie with a flourish, holding it up for your son to see. the little boy’s eyes sparkle with joy as he clutches the stuffed toy tightly, arms flailing around in excitement, “we got it for mama!”

“we did, indeed!” satoru’s smile is warm and full of love as he pulls your son close, his arm resting protectively around him. he suggests playfully, “now let’s sneak up on her. think she’ll spot us?”

s/n giggles, his face flushed with enthusiasm, “I don’t think she will! we’re so good”

your husband's playful grin never wavers as he whispers, “you ready?”

s/n nods eagerly, “ready!”

the pair giggle amongst themselves, and satoru takes the chance to carry your son on his back which makes the him squeal. the boy clutches tightly onto the plushie and hides his face in his dad’s shoulder to conceal his giggles.

satoru spots you from the corner of his eye. he starts tiptoeing closer and closer to you, and he raises his arms slowly, finally behind your unaware form. he grins, “boo—!”

you spin around and slap your husband, sending him flying through the arcade. you snatch your son into your arms and take a defensive stance, “who the hell are you?!”

“mama, that’s papa!”

your eyes widen, and you focus more on the six feet something man that is slowly getting up from the ground. the man rubs his hand on his cheek in attempt to ease the pain. you're relieved for him to indeed be your husband.

you splutter, “satoru?! why the hell did you have your infinity off?!”

“I didn’t feel like there was any danger nearby,” he pouts, “didn’t think the danger would be my own wife!”

your husband is about to go on a lengthy monologue about the betrayal and hurt he is feeling, but your son interrupts him to beam at you, holding the plushie, “daddy and I won this just for you!”

you take the plushie, giving it a squeeze and then grinning at your son, “aww, really? this is wonderful! thank you, s/n!” you press a big kiss to your son’s cheek which makes him squeal and nuzzle his cheek against yours.

“what about me?!” your husband interjects, and you hum in mock contemplation.

“make up for me the fact that you tried scaring me, then I will think about it,” you smirk, and your husband nods with determination. you wait patiently for his next move; however, you find him standing on top of a table and taking a deep breath.

“satoru, don’t you dare—”

“I LOVE MY WIFE, Y/N GOJO!”

“I love mama too!”

“my god…”

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[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

Yandere batfam or justice league with a reader who’s afraid of strong people/men due to a past abusive relationship? She never wants to feel that powerless and weak again so she actively avoids interacting with anyone stronger, bigger, taller any more than necessary. She doesn’t hold it against other ppl she just has a lot of trauma that she’d rather not work through and feel safe in her little bubble

Hit me Hard and Soft

Synopsis: You get saved by Robin, but not everything is as it seems.

Pairing: Yandere!Poly!Romantic!Batboys X Gn!Reader

Tw: All characters aged up, of course; Mentions and descriptions of violence, including physical, psychological, sexual and financial abuse, and Damian fighting criminals (I'm particularly proud of the action scene I wrote); Drugging and being unconscious; Mentions of death of minor characters and suicide; Mentions of past grooming (Reader's ex) and age gap (Reader’s ex, Reader X Bruce, and the batboys age is not mentioned); Implied stalking; Mentions of kidnapping; Reader's very traumatized and weary of everyone; Reader doesn't trust the police; Mention of a panic attack and descriptions of actual panic; Guns and knifes; Mention of cigarettes; Implied needles; English isn't my 1st language.

Requested? Yes.

Extra notes: Wish I had more interactions between Reader and the batboys here, but I'm more than willing to make a part 2 with the right idea.

General masterlist | Hit me Hard and Soft - Series masterlist

He's back again. You wish you could say you didn't know why he always came back, but you did. The food wasn't that great and it wasn't that close to where he told you he worked or lived. It also didn't help that he always made sure to be served by you. And that he flirted with you.

— Evening, (N/N)! Is there something as sweet as you on today’s menu? — You gave a small and polite laugh.

— Strawberry pie… As always…

It was kinda sad, but mostly scary. If it wasn't for your ex, you would be thrilled to have gotten the attention of Dick fucking Grayson. The whole city knew he was handsome, rich, talented and charismatic. Gotham's sweetheart, Gotham's golden boy. And from your daily interactions, he lived up to the expectations. He was polite even when flirting with you and asking you out. Yet, something held you back.

— Nice! Since you get out in a few, why don't you bring in two slices? One for me and one for you, it's on me, of course. — You shook your head quickly, with an empty heart, just wanting to get away from him as fast as possible.

You were with your ex since you were 17 to 26. Almost 10 years wasted on a dirtbag. He convinced you to leave your friends, to leave your family, to leave your job. As soon as you started living together, you were completely dependent on him. Sometimes you blamed him, sometimes yourself, sometimes the people you had around you, but back then, where you came from, people weren't questioning the imbalance of powers between a 17 year old highschooler with no job and a 23 year old man with a steady job and living alone.

He convinced you that going to college and ending your relationship was the worst decision you could take. Then, that you didn't need your family, he could take care of you. One day, he decided you couldn't have friends.

He often locked you inside the house, cursed your skills and appearance, neglected your overall health, intimidated you, screamed at you, broke your things that he did and didn't pay for. He hurt you physically, even sexually. You knew both dating him and leaving him was hard, you just expected living with the scars was going to be easier.

And it was! You decided to run away from him and to Gotham when you received the news that your mom died and he didn't even want to let you go to the funeral. The grieving made you reflexive and you realized how shitty your situation was. For years you just thought that it would eventually get better, that you just needed to be strong, that he showed he loved you when he wasn't being an asshole, that you couldn't get anything better, that he made you feel special.

You couldn't even go to the police, he was a cop, you knew the chances that in any scenario you would lose. So you ran.

You knew it was dangerous, but you had nothing to lose. If he didn't kill you, you would do it yourself. You made a plan, drugged him, took some of his money, used his house keys, left everything behind for the second time in your life. You didn't waste time asking for help from the people you knew. You took the bus and went as far away as you could.

Your paranoia was so bad that for almost a year, you would settle in a city, work to save up enough, and leave again, rinse and repeat. Eventually, Gotham seemed big and far enough to go by unnoticed.

Or that's what you thought, until Dick Grayson stopped by the diner you worked to have breakfast before going to work, as a cop, and decided you caught his attention.

Since then, he came back everyday. Either breakfast, lunch, dinner, or just to hang out with some family member, usually one of his brothers, his dad appeared with him sometimes too. Your boss loved the attention Bruce and Tim attracted, the two most media active ones, since they both led Wayne Enterprises.

Eventually, even them started appearing multiple times a week. You thought you were healing, until you found yourself crying for almost four hours at home in a panic attack.

You didn't want their attention. Not only was it weird, but they were just so… Superior to you.

They were all taller, more muscular, faster, smarter, richer. It was like reliving the beginning of your relationship at 17, plus 10 times worse. Five because they were five people mirroring your ex, and more five just because of your trauma, experience, negativity and lack of naiveness.

Also, why were they ALL into you??? And they were aware of it! It was weird! Why??

Bruce Wayne was disarmingly charming in his dilf way. Dick was surprisingly accessible. Jason was soft spoken despite his resting bitch face and leather jacket. Tim was cute in a nerdy way. Damian almost made you laugh with his sarcastic humor.

Either way, you never wanted to feel as little as you felt before, so you just did your job, acted polite, but ultimately kept your distance.

Freedom has its difficulties, one of them being that you need money, and for money, you need a job, which means sometimes you have to stay until closing time, at 11 PM, in Gotham.

You're not the only employee to stay so late, but you and your co-worker live in opposite directions, so walking alone it is. They're taking the bus, but you only live two blocks away, so you gulp down your anxiety and keep walking. One hand on your pocket, holding your taser firmly, and keeping your head up, turning to look at every sound.

It's cold, and the street is empty and dimly lit. Some places are so dark that you wonder why you're even paying taxes if the streetlamps won't work.

Two men turn the corner a few meters in front of you, one at least a foot taller, the other, two inches max. They're wearing hoodies and their hands are on their pockets, the light behind them creates a shadow that doesn't allow you to see their faces, nor where they're looking at, but they are coming in your direction.

There's a car, parked between you both. Some people might think at this point it's just paranoia, but you’ve heard stories of people walking next to cars, getting pulled inside by someone who was hiding in there, and getting kidnapped.

Your first instinct is flight, so you turn around, ready to run, even if you look weird in case those guys weren't planning to do anything with you, just to see other two guys emerging from the other corner, those two almost as tall as that first guy. Aside from the smaller one, they're all broad, even with their thick clothes covering them.

One of them has a cigarette on his mouth, which he throws on the ground when you turn your attention to him. Your fear might have caused you to hallucinate, but you're almost sure he's smirking.

You freeze for a second, your only escape is to run to the side, and pray their long legs don't get to you first. You think you hear one of them start hollering at you.

You only take a step to the side, when a loud crash startles you so hard that you have to look behind, while walking backwards to the street. You take a second to process the sight.

Robin is standing in the middle, just a few steps behind where you were standing a second ago. He's at least half a foot taller than all of them, and a lot broader. He's holding the tall one by his neck with his right hand, repeatedly hitting his head against the car’s window.

You're shell shocked, torn between staying put to watch this disaster, as interesting as a car crash, or running away. Gotham is so big that you never thought you would encounter one of its heroes, you weren't sure if you even wanted to.

When the guy seems to stop moving, Robin throws him against one of the other tall ones, the guy practically flies across 2 meters before hitting him, and when he does, they both fall to the ground. You remember all the times when your ex pushed you to the ground.

Your eyes are wide, horrified, watching the shortest guy take a pocket knife out of his pocket. Your throat locks, even if you want to scream for Robin to turn around, you only manage to stare and stay in place, however, the vigilant turns halfway around just in time to grab the guy by his wrist and his arm, just as he launched to stab him. He uses his body’s impulse to push the guy forward, the knife going to the fourth guy's shoulder, you hadn't even seen him get so close to him.

You look at the man from the car, he's still unconscious, the one who got tackled with him, however, is already standing and walking to the fight.

Everything’s happening too fast, you turn to the side to see the guy with the knife on his back on the ground, groaning and twitching in pain, while Robin is punching the shit out of the other guy, movements faster than you could ever dream of achieving. You remember being on the receiving end of someone's fists before.

With a final elbow to the cheek, the guy stumbles to the ground, you don't know what level of consciousness he’s in, by his posture before, you knew he was already compromised since the first hits he took.

Robin doesn't move, doesn't even turn to look at the guy who just fell, he's just looking forward, and when you notice this, you look at the remaining guy.

He's pointing a gun at him.

You don't think you can watch someone get shot in front of you, and you know if he gets rid of Robin, it's over for you. Logically, you knew these vigilantes somehow never die, still, it's counterintuitive to think he won't.

And he doesn't, in the blink of an eye, Robin's on the air, his right boot kicking the gun away, while still on the air, he wraps his legs around the guy's head, bends backwards, puts his hands on the ground, then launches his whole body to the front, the guy getting thrown over him. He falls to the ground, Robin stands on top of him with perfect balance. You don't even have time to process what just happened, the coolest and scariest thing you saw your whole life, when Robin punches him one last time. Now, he's definitely unconscious.

You’ve felt like a bystander this whole interaction, it felt like ages, but in reality all of this couldn't have taken more than 20 seconds, maybe even less than 15. You don't know what to do now. You're theoretically safe, but Robin’s still too big, too strong, too fast. He knocked out four guys without getting touched a single time. He broke a car's window. He threw around two guys who weighed at least 80kg. He's not even panting. And now he's looking at you.

A whimper gets stuck in your throat. You don't know if you should thank him, stay silent, or yell at him to stay away from you. When he takes a step in your direction, your instincts get the better of you and you turn around, running.

You hear him call your name, although your brain doesn't process it. You see headlights and look towards it. It's a car. You don't trust you’ll get help, but at least you're not alone. You run in it's direction, waving your arms and screaming bloody murder.

The car almost hits you, but you don’t process that until the last minute, but you get tackled to the ground just in time by the hero from before. You scream again, he's too close. Now, he's trying to hold you down. You keep screaming and trying to escape. You look to the side and the car just kept driving away, likely the driver wouldn't stay behind to be another victim to Robin's hands. You know you're not being rational right now, those guys are known for helping people, he just saved you, he's still trying to stop you from getting hurt, but you're scared. You've been scared since you were a teenager.

Your eyes burn, your arms and throat hurt, but adrenaline doesn't let you feel anything. Not even the invasion of a needle on your side.

— Was it really necessary? — Tim deadpans Damian, who growls.

— You would have done the same, Drake.

— No, I wouldn't. You were supposed to use the psychological first aid approach and (Y/N) would've calmed down and trust us more in the future. But of course, you never use your brain. — Damian growls, stepping towards Tim, but he is stopped by Dick’s hand resting on his chest.

— Damian, calm down, Tim’s right. You knew better than to sedate them. You knew of (Y/N)’s trauma and you knew the route we wanted to take. — Damian's brows furrowed and he crossed his arms.

— I knew your feelings toward (Y/N) would make you become impulsive again. — Tim looked at Bruce, who was silent, with hands intertwined and elbows on the table, focused on your vitals on the screen and the sight of you laid on the bed on the medbay. — Will you now consider just letting you, me and Dick keep an eye on them during patrol? — Damian and Jason scoffed.

— Why you aiming at me now? It was the demon who gave that guy brain death! — Jason protested and Tim looked at him.

— Just to be sure you won't freak out like him and kill thrice as many people, on purpose this time. — Jason glared at him.

— B, you better add more security measures around (Y/N), before Timbo tries to clone them or something. — He muttered with snark.

Dick shook his head and sighed, going to stand on Bruce's side, crossing his arms and looking at you through the camera with him.

— What's the plan now, B? They're probably waking up soon. — Bruce hummed, relaxing his stance and resting his back against his chair. The silence lingered for a few seconds, everyone just looking at you, waiting for the oldest’s opinion.

Bruce turned around, looking at them.

— … Damian, Tim's right. You were impulsive today and you killed someone, even if it was an accident. I stopped expecting that from you since you were 12, you're an adult now. You not only broke our trust, but (Y/N)’s already shattered trust. They need to know they're safe with us, and drugging them, instead of puting to use more time and effort to bring the comfort to them, is not going to do that. You weren't much different than the man who hurt them tonight. — His father's words were like a punch to Damian's stomach, leaving him speechless. Dick pursed his lips, not turning around as to make it easier to not comfort his brother just yet. Bruce turned to Tim. — Tim, I understand you want to take measures seriously. But you need to give Jason a chance. That was unasked for. — The mentioned blinked, still unacostummed with the treatment he received from his dad when he followed his rules. Tim looked away. Bruce turned to Damian again. — Damian, no patrolling around (Y/N) until you prove we can trust your temper again. — He waited for a confirmation, which came with a sneered lip.

— Yes, father.

Dick looked back a Bruce.

— What about (Y/N)? — He bit his lips. Bruce hummed, turning to look at the monitor again.

— … What do you all think?

— Well… Damian said their name, they might not remember it, but they can't just wake up at home. They’d try to flee from us. We could bring them home earlier, but our ideal plan was to make them come willingly, in the period of at least two years, in the best case. We could leave them at the hospital, and just keep our plan going. — Dick listed the possible strategies they could take. Bruce hummed.

Tim piped up.

— I already altered their phone's algorithm to send the job application as my assistant at Wayne Enterprises to them. And the Wayne Foundation’s application for the internship at Gotham Uni. — Bruce nodded.

— Damian? What do you understand about that? — It was clearly the beginning of his test.

— The more secure in their independence they feel, the easier it is to heal and open themselves up to new opportunities. — Damian exclaimed with confidence. Bruce nodded.

— Jason, are you still interested in college? — Everyone looked at Jason surprised, he was also surprised, he hadn't talked to Bruce about college since before he died.

It took a few seconds to processes what it would mean.

— Uh… I think so?! — Bruce nodded.

— What about me, father? — Damian spoke inquisitively. — I also want more opportunities to get closer to (Y/N)! — Bruce narrowed his eyes at him.

— We will think about that when you're in the clear.

— But-

— That's final. You reap what you sow. — Damian huffed and nodded begrudgingly. — … Now, since Robin was the one to save them, take the batmobile and leave them in the hospital. Then come straight back home. Understood? — Damian clenched his jaw and nodded silently, leaving to get your unconscious body.

Moments later, when you were both out, on the way to the hospital, Tim fiddled with the computer, the scream showed the batmobile’s tracker, your tracker, Damian's tracker, Damian's contact lenses’s camera and the car’s camera. They all looked at him.

— … It's just to make sure…

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[cutiepieautistic]

watching videos of young guys laughing at stupid shit helps me to feel a little bit less lonely,at the very least

[notsoevilmagistrate]

IM SORRY YOU KNOW I HAD TO

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All propaganda under the cut

Miles Edgeworth

The case in which his father died is the root of all the tragedy in the first 3 games. He even thinks he killed his father at first which is very sad and he has lasting trauma from the incident (his father died in an elevator during an earthquake. edgeworth is shown to panic and shut down during earthquakes or something similar like airplane turbulence and he avoids taking the elevator whenever possible)

Miles Edgeworth is the most repressed individual you'll ever meet. He is a chess player and everytime he has a chess board he puts the red pieces (him) cornering a blue piece (HIS RIVAL/THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE). He told the aforementioned rival his ex girlfriend died by telling him "her metabolic processes are concern of only historians". He dresses like a victorian child. He is a steel samurai fan. Almost christmas means it wasn't christmas

Sakuya Sakuma

OUGH okay hello I’m gonna yell about my little guy here. Obviously he’s an orphan; parents died when he was really small, passed around to different family members, and BOY does it affect him. He’s not colossally depressed or anything but it does give him abandonment issues, a general sense of loneliness, and a latent fear that if he’s too sad or angry then he’ll get sent to live somewhere else. Even after he joins his live-in theater company, though he does start moving past it there. Despite all that, he always strives to be kind and caring and cheerful, yes in part because he felt like he had to be but also because he just generally is. He’s so very loved in the place he’s at to the point that a number of grown adults (he starts the series at 17!) openly admit that they look up to him. TRULY one of the characters ever I’m so incredibly normal about him

ok so i havent been caught up in years so forgive me if i get the details wrong but he's just a ball of sunshine despite all he's gone thru (multiple foster homes, never really feeling like he belonged anywhere). like he literally put his everything into acting because it was the only place he could go that wasn't back to a foster home (the company has dorms for the actors), to the point where he was doing "solo" shows (he had a bird as a supporting actor) just to bring in enough people to keep the acting company from shutting down completely. also it's the way that he FINALLY found a place to call home and people to call family and he was SO DESPERATE to hold onto that when his fellow troupe members threaten to leave (at least once for each of them for a minimum of 5, but only one at a time. u would think they would catch on at some point and not do that). also the sleepover cg in act 1 makes me feel like crying like they're finally on the same page and ready to work together and they look so comfortable and vulnerable with each other and it just AUGHH because they only did that after sakuya decided to sleep on the stage on his own and got caught by another troupe member who dragged in the rest of them too like hello?? crying