#the only people that can do this are like the secretary bc she's like that and i like her

[quetzalpapalotl]

Really annoys me when random people call me by my name's diminutive. Like, I don't care how I look or how I sound, I'm still a grown woman and it sounds extremely condescending to call me -ita. Like yes, my dad does it, and my great aunt does it and most of my family does it, but that's different!!! If you didn't hold me as a toddler you don't get that privilege!!!

[raedas]

i’m going to cry mock trial board is going 2 suck so hard this year.

[bkgml]

meanie katsuki makes the reader jealous on purpose then she cries bc he thinks he doesnt love them anymore ☹️

katsuki messing up!

katsuki has never seen you get jealous. to him, anyone who looks your way is a threat. he wants you all to himself, it’s selfish he knows, but he just needs you so badly.

you never ever showing him you’re jealous annoys him to no end. do you even want him that bad? maybe you care less about him than he cares about you.

he takes his problem to kirishima. he’s the only one he trusts to talk about this.

“so? what do i do?” he asks.

“i don’t understand, you want her to be jealous?” kirishima questions.

“i guess. i just want her to show that she wants me.” katsuki frowns. he sounds so damn vulnerable right now.

“try and make her jealous then. see if she cares enough about you.”

“huh. how the fuck do i do that?” katsuki asks.

“anytime a girl comes up to you, flirting with you and stuff, flirt back a little. don’t tell them to fuck off like you normally do.”

“flirt back…”

“hey there, sexy.” a woman calls to katsuki in the street.

he’s used to this shit. people are always coming up to him in the street flirting with him. can’t they see you’re right there holding his hand?

‘flirt back’ he thinks.

“hey.” he smiles.

‘what the fuck? did he just flirt with her?’ you think to yourself. you’re used to seeing katsuki be flirted with, but to see him flirt back? how dare he?

you frown for a moment but quickly neutralize your face so he doesn’t see your jealousy, he’s never been disloyal you have no reason to nag him with jealousy.

things go on like this for weeks. someone will flirt with katsuki and he’ll blatantly flirt back. you’re growing upset. why is he doing this right in front of you?

eventually, you’re at your wits end.

you went to visit katsuki for lunch at his agency and he told his secretary to tell him you arrived while being discreet. he had a coworker in his office that’s always been flirty with him, touchy and blunt with suggestive remarks.

he decided to indulge her this time so you could walk in and see him flirting with her.

“hi, handsome. you wanted to see me?” she asked.

you arrived at his office and opened the door.

“uh huh. wanted to know why you were walking around with those tight ass pencil skirts.”

you stiffen.

“katsuki…?” you say, voice cracking.

“shit. why are you crying, pretty?” he stands and orders the woman out of his office.

he shuts the door and turns to you.

you look so small and fragile like this.

he cups your face but you back away shaking your head.

“are you cheating on me?” you say, tears finally falling.

“what? no. never.”

you look down, hands clenching into fists.

“then why have you been flirting with everyone? every single person who’s flirted with you in the past couple weeks you’ve flirted back. you’ve acted like i don’t even exist when someone else is there. i tried to let it go but now you’ve pushed me over the fucking edge katsuki!” you scream.

katsuki winces. he went way to far.

“it was a stupid fucking idea, baby. im so sorry, i pushed you too hard on this.” he defends.

you look up at him and glare.

“what idea?”

“i was talking to kirishima about how i’ve never seen you jealous and i was fucking insecure. i didn’t know if you wanted me because you always brush it off when other bitches flirt with me! he told me i should try to make you jealous!”

“you think it’s easy to brush it off? i was trying to not make you think i was clingy because i am so obviously out of your league! i thought you’d fucking leave me if i clung to you like this!” you’re pissed. he made you feel worthless because of some stupid idea?

“i wasn’t thinking. you’re out of my league, sweets. i messed up so fucking bad because i was insecure. can you forgive me? please? i don’t deserve it but i only have eyes for you and i always will.” he steps closer to you.

you think for a minute before sighing.

“i forgive you but i’m still fucking pissed. you’re going to be making this up to me for years.”

“promise. i’ll spend forever making this shit up to you.” he steps closer again.

“can i hold you now?” he pleads.

you laugh lightly and he smiles.

you raise your arms and katsuki rushes forward, wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you.

he places kisses all over your face and neck before burying his face in your chest.

“i messed up.”

“yeah.” you smile.

he walks to his desk chair and sits with you in his lap.

he places a kiss to your lips.

“i’m an idiot.”

“yeah.”

he wipes your old tears off your face and kisses your temple.

“kirishimas an idiot too for giving me that advice.”

“yeah.”

you wrap your arms around his neck.

you kiss his nose.

“you’re perfect and no one else compares.”

“yeah.”

katsuki laughs and holds you tight to him. rubbing your back and weaving his fingers through your hair, breathing in your sweet perfume.

“wanna have lunch now?”

“yeah!”

[tojivu]

# OFFICE HOURS ‣ GOJO SATORU

✰ — author’s note i feel so guilty bc gojo is literally the only character i write for LOL anyway this is an old draft from months ago. idk why this is so long im so horrendously down bad for this fucking snowman.

✰ — cw / tags arrogant ceo!gojo x secretary f!reader, sfw, not rly enemies to lovers bc gojo has fat feelings, gojo satoru being a billionaire playboy

✰ — playing death & taxes by daniel caesar.

✰ — word count ~3k LOL

nothing about gojo satoru really strikes you as the serious type.

even in a professional environment, your boss always has a carefree demeanour. his laugh is so nauseatingly loud that you can hear it from outside the office, and you wonder how someone as busy as him manages through his day; much less with a positive attitude. you take one look at his schedule, and you want to vomit with the way you hardly see any gaps between appointments.

you suppose you could learn that from him. it's his only good quality.

you admit that he's likeable, on surface level. there's a reason why you detest him, though: as his closest colleague, you know him way more than you would prefer. most people would think such a well to do man like satoru would have a wife by his side, but that's unfortunately not the case. you almost feel more miserable than him—because now you're forced to be the listening ear and comforting hand at his beck and call.

you think he'd be just fine if he was just a little more humble. he has a nice face. it's his fault for being so stuck up. you know how many women ask him out—painfully aware, actually.

'they just aren't suited to my taste,' he would say to you. 'i need someone that makes me feel alive.'

one time, gojo even asked you to bail him out of a date—something about the way she held her fork and knife disturbed him, and you were expected to show up at the restaurant and act as if there was an emergency.

'i'm so sorry, sweetheart. i have to go, duty calls.' his disgustingly charming tone made you want to slap him then and there.

she called him again the following week, and he completely forgot who she was. he didn't even save her number.

the sheer number of people asking him out had stroked his ego so hard that gojo firmly believes no woman is deserving enough. he rambles on and on to you about how snobby some of them seem, and it takes everything in you to bite your tongue when he does. 'takes one to know one,' you would say, if not for your job at stake.

you think gojo satoru is full of himself. you are a strong believer of that. a witness, as well—it's not like he didn't try his way with you, too. unlike the women he ranted about, you turned him down every single time.

it's been a long while since any of that has happened, though. the most recent ordeal was months ago, but that didn't inherently mean that people stopped asking him out: it just meant that he was rejecting every single offer.

it's a thursday morning when you find yourself eating a sandwich you purchased on the way to work, at your desk—wondering when the big boss will finally arrive. the clock read 9 a.m., and you're expecting an extravagant "good morning!" to surprise you any moment now.

just then, you notice mr. conceited walk in: except something is different. he has no stride in his step. there was no good morning. there was no playful teasing directed at you as he walked past your desk and into his office, not that you were complaining—it was just strange.

you stand up, a mouthful of your sandwich still being chewed. you take a big sip of water and fix your skirt and blouse, making sure your hair is presentable—before swiftly making your way into his office.

──────

"i cannot believe this." he mumbles. you're standing in front of his desk, but he's not facing your direction.

gojo's chair is turned to the giant window that overlooks the business district, and he's gazing out of it thoughtfully. you think this is the cheesiest thing you've seen him do.

you can see how disheveled his hair was, even from where you were standing. you don't want to irritate him further, in case teasing you was still on his to-do list that day.

"what is it, mr. gojo?"

he swivels his chair around, and he is a mess—just what could have he been up to?

"i woke up late today."

"you're the boss, mr. gojo. you can come in any time you want—"

"not the point." he interrupts you. "i forgot my lunch. i was in the car, with the driver, on the way here already. . . and then i realised i left my donuts at home."

gojo's face is absolutely distraught. he looks like he's gone through a divorce and had his house set on fire with how he stands up dramatically—his hands now on his desk. you open your mouth to speak, but he shuts you up by talking again.

"i didn't want to inconvenience him. i'm too thoughtful, miss y/n."

you want to scoff, but you bite your tongue and hold back.

"so i got out of the car and ran back for it," gojo recounts. "i arrived home after the treacherous journey—only to discover that my donuts are gone."

you feign an expression of shock, just to humour him; he gives you an 'i know right' look, and continues his nonsensical story.

"the maids threw them away, miss y/n."

you can't help yourself: you let a small giggle slip through your lips. you quickly use your hand to cover your mouth, thinking of a quick excuse.

you cough. you pretend to, at least—but gojo satoru is not stupid.

no, maybe a little. though, not enough to be convinced of your terrible acting.

"nothing about this is funny."

you nod, looking down at the floor. "i apologise, mr. gojo, but it's just a few donuts. i'm sure someone in the office could fetch some for you."

"yes, i agree." he says, and you shift your gaze from the marble tiling of his office to his face. his hair is a mess, yes—but he still looks revoltingly handsome. his eyes are piercing through yours, and pieces of hair cover his face in just the right places.

you're staring a little too long and gojo finds his pulse quickening with the eye contact—but the spell he has you under is soon broken when he clears his throat.

you quickly look away, embarrassed that you were caught staring at your boss, by your boss.

"you'll pick some up for me, yeah?" his smooth and silky voice echoes through the empty space of his office.

you look at him again, and there's a gentle smile on his face; one you're all too familiar with.

you're aware of satoru's charismatic nature, his playboy-ish attitude, and all sorts of tricks he uses to make women fall head over heels for him. that didn't mean you were completely resistant to them, though—you find yourself playing with the sleeves of your blouse, your ears beginning to redden. "of course," is all you manage to say.

at least you were self-aware.

your mind was rational. should gojo satoru try to hit on you for the nth time—all it took was some self discipline to say no, and you'd like to think you had plenty.

you think the conversation is done with the way he doesn't speak another word, so you turn on your heels and make your way out of the office.

just as you touch the handle of the door, your boss adds: "i'll come with you."

you turn back to him, confused. you didn't need your boss babysitting you for a donut run, you knew his favourite flavours—it's all he ever insists on buying for lunch. "there's no need for that, mr. gojo."

satoru shakes his head in disapproval. "you don't even know my favourite flavours, miss y/n."

that was a blatant lie. he knew you knew. you were his personal donut grabber for a few months up until august, and it was only october. you suppose that it would've continued on if not for your complaints about the long lines in the morning.

nevertheless, you don't argue with him. gojo satoru was the type to get what he wants, when he wants, if he really wants it.

you smile at his disregard for the months you spent as his errand runner, and how idiotic the excuse he just used was. satoru knows he's lying through his teeth, and your smile makes him more nervous than your eye contact.

so nervous, in fact, that he takes back what he just said. "unless. . . you're fine by yourself."

you're surprised that gojo's confidence is dissipating, or that it could even fade at all. you can tell with the way he's avoiding your eye contact, exactly how you evaded his earlier—the red on the tips of his ears are much too obvious in contrast to his hair.

"i don't mind," you respond a bit too quicker than appropriate. "mr. gojo."

gojo curses himself mentally, thinking about how stupid he must sound. he's usually the one making people nervous, but he doesn't know why it's different when you look at him like that.

──────

the atmosphere is deafening in gojo's favourite bakery. you always knew he had a sweet tooth, so you expected his choice to be a spectacular one—and you weren't disappointed.

you had personally visited this bakeshop before, and the confectionery was truly as good as people made it out to be; it proved evident in the amount of people crammed into this small establishment. though, you can't tell if it was for the food or for your boss, with the way most pairs of eyes are turned in his direction.

you two spend a good five seconds looking at the menu before gojo states his order, which was exactly what you thought it would be—the lady at the cashier smiles a bit too long at satoru, before asking: "eating in?"

you want to open your mouth to say something, but he beats you to it. "of course."

it was still very well your work day. he (or maybe you and him, considering you helped him plan seventy percent of his appointments) had a meeting in 3 hours to prepare for. you think this donut adventure is already unnecessary enough—but here he is, suggesting to waste even more time eating the donuts in the bakery itself.

"we have a meeting in a bit, though. you could eat it in your office."

he looks at you with a confused look, as if he forgot that there was a meeting at all—because he did forget. gojo gasps, turning back to the lady and retracting his previous statement.

──────

gojo eats his donuts agonisingly slow and no conversation is initiated.

you're alternating between staring at both your laptops and the swirls on the wooden desk, unable to say anything because you didn't plan for such an occasion: an eating donuts with your admittedly handsome boss that makes you nervous while simultaneously planning for an important meeting occasion.

"miss y/n, you should try some."

you shift your eyes from the table to gojo, and he's holding a small piece of his donut to your lips: the powdered sugar practically calling your name.

"it's fine, i ate earlier," you decline his generous offer. "you should eat."

"i'm not asking you to eat all of them, miss y/n." he smiles at you. "just a bite. it's really good, y'know."

you sigh, reaching for his hand to take it from him—but he swiftly pulls it away and shakes his head. "open your mouth."

you feel the tips of your ears burning, blood rushing to your cheeks and you wonder how the girls he takes out manage themselves when he's like this—you've worked with him for so long, yet you can't recall a time when his gaze wouldn't make you shudder.

you think you'd stutter if you spoke one more word to him, so you save yourself from the embarrassment and bare with his request.

he feeds you the piece of sugar-coated donut, and you're sure you have powder on the corners of your lips with how it's width barely fits into your mouth.

you chew and swallow, feeling the residue of sugar on your skin.

"do you have any tissues?" you ask him, a serious expression plastered onto your face.

gojo tries to suppress the chuckle itching to escape his throat—the sugar on your lips and cheeks catch him off guard, and after a few seconds he can't help but let a small laugh slip. you stand up from your chair, scanning the room for any boxes of tissues you could lay your hands on.

he stands up as well, shaking his head—still giggling.

"it's not funny," you frown, and the smile on his face only grows wider—you're too cute for your own good when you sulk. "stop laughing."

you're not sure if you want to punch him or let him giggle to himself. for some reason, seeing you embarrassed is a great cause of joy to him. you can't bring yourself to tell him to shut up; you always imagine doing just that, it's strange how you couldn't muster the courage just when you needed it most.

"it's quite funny," gojo's laughter eventually calms down.

he leans closer to you and his right hand gently holds the side of your jaw—he uses his thumb to gently wipe the sugar off your cheek, and then your lips. "i got it."

his thumb stays on your bottom lip after dusting the sugar away. his pupils are locked onto the surface of your lips, which were glossy in the harsh light of his office: they looked so soft.

before long, they trail up your face until he's looking directly into your eyes: and this time you're not nervous, you don't look away, and your heart is completely calm.

satoru's fingers are easy on your skin. he handles you like fragile glass, as if he doesn't want to break you: and it's the same for the way he looks at you. gentle.

you're reluctant to speak because the way satoru has his thumb on your bottom lip sends shivers down your spine. you feel breathless.

you don't want this feeling to leave, not just yet.

a few seconds of tension pass. his hand moves back to your jaw, and your nervousness returns when gojo satoru leans his tall figure even closer to you; his head tilting ever so slightly.

it's a random thursday morning when you discover a few more good qualities gojo satoru possesses: his lips and his hands. maybe the way he kisses, too—it's slow and precise, unlike his attitude. he tastes sickeningly sweet and it makes you want to savour this moment even more.

you promised yourself you wouldn't fall victim to gojo satoru. yet, you just can't pull away: instead finding yourself slithering your arms around his neck and your chest pressing against his.

gojo's hands are wandering down to your waist and he's desperate to have you as close to him as possible, showing in the way he tries to close the already small gap between you two.

it takes only a fraction of a second for a small thought to form in your mind: just how many women have been in this position?

you quickly forget about that thought, though—you think it's pointless to regret it now, gojo satoru kisses you too good to be full of remorse.

gojo thinks he could stay like this: kiss you all morning, afternoon and pay you overtime if it meant he could be this close to you for just a bit longer.

there's hints of neediness in gojo's touch—as if he'd been waiting for this forever, wanting to relish it before it ends. his few seconds of bliss don’t last very long though, because you're soon pulling away—gasping for air.

he sighs mockingly, his hands sliding down from your waist to your hips. "can't last longer than 10 seconds, miss y/n?"

of course he would say some cocky shit like that—you'd forgotten for a minute that this was the same, arrogant mr. gojo you always knew, and no kiss (however heavenly) was going to change that.

"i'm sorry that i don't go on dates with every man that breathes."

gojo smirks at you after you say those words. "come on. just because i go on dates with people, doesn't mean i kiss them like this."

"sure you don't." your jealousy shows a bit too much in your reply, and he finds himself smiling even harder.

"is someone jealous?" he teases you again, rubbing circles with his thumb against the flesh of your hips.

you feel flustered, knowing that you're definitely done for now—he saw right through you. "nobody is jealous, mr. gojo."

"stop it with the formality. just call me satoru."

"it's still office hours. it's only polite."

gojo rolls his eyes, sighing in the process. you grin a little at him, knowing that this was the first thing you denied him of today—complying with the donuts and the kissing was already spoiling him enough.

"then i suppose there's only after work," there's his nauseatingly charming voice again—low and smooth. he knows exactly what he's doing to you, and you know it too. "i'm off after 6."

you think long and hard about whether you want to be mean and add this to the list of things you've declined to do for him. the ratio was starting to get really unbalanced—but you remember the way his hands touch you and how his lips greet yours so lovingly: and you think that there's no point turning back now.

"my boss doesn't let me off until after 8, though." you try to poke at his buttons—you put on a fake pout, knowing you’ll accept his invitation anyway—but gojo satoru is eternally patient when it came to things he sincerely desired.

"fuck your boss." he says, "he'll be fine with it."

you laugh at his response. you never thought you would see the day gojo curses at himself, after all, he's so self-obsessed: but you suppose you've seen—and tasted—parts of him that you never knew existed.

"then i'll see you at 6, mr. gojo."

what was the harm in discovering more?

230323 — i kinda hate this but.. wtv… anyway i couldn’t be bothered to proofread have my brainrot of gojo in a suit Mmmm yumyum

[dira333]

dira my darling!

can i request a fluffy plotbunny with bakugo? something with casual dominance, bc i would love to have someone boss me around. like,, he says sit and im sat? Im very bossy/pushy overall so a bf that's casually dominant and who i dont have to think around or help lead like i do everything else would be a dream come true xD

thank you for being so kind as to share your amazing pieces with us!!!!

*Pretending I have the time to write by eating my lunch in front of the computer* It's called Multi-Tasking

Also, I've had a hard time with this prompt because it feels like it's skirting along the line of suggestiveness, or is that just me being weird?

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Going back in time...

"Stay," a voice whispers as you get up, warm lips pressed against the shell of your ear. "I'll get your drink."

"If only you'd listen to someone else like that," your best friend scoffs the moment you're seated again.

"Hah?" You ask, hackles rising.

"You know exactly what I'm referring to," Mina scoffs yet again, staring you down. Or at least, she's trying.

Your best friend of almost twenty years might just be as bossy as you are, but that doesn't mean you bow to her whims. Like she'd do it for you...

"What are we talking about?" Kirishima leans in, propping his head on his girlfriend's shoulder.

"How my best friend in the world does not listen to me." Mina points one pointy nail at you. "Especially considering I'm the one planning her surprise party."

"Please," you scoff, "like it could have been a surprise. You could never keep a secret from me. I'm just taking care of it."

"Bakugo!" Mina calls for the kitchen where your fiancé went seconds ago to get you another drink. "Help me here! Your fiancée's still trying to weasel her way into planning her own surprise party."

"Like hell, I'm helping you," Bakugo scoffs, looking down his nose at her. "And if my Baby doesn't trust your taste, I fully trust hers." He leans down to kiss you, pressing the glass into your hands.

"But I'm getting the flowers tomorrow."

"But-" You try to intervene but one look from him has you silent.

"See!" Mina asks Kirishima, pointing at the two of you. "One look and she shuts up. It never works when I do it."

"Yeah, but it's Bakugo," Kirishima offers like it's all the explanation needed.

-

"Do you ever listen to somebody?" Bakugo asks, raspy morning voice cutting through the Silence. You barely keep yourself from flinching, but the smirk on his lips tells you that he noticed. It seems he loves surprising you the most, mainly because you pride yourself in not getting surprised.

"I listen to a lot of people," you claim as you return to checking the Buffet table. You'd asked for Vegan Options and an egg-free dessert for the new secretary. Sweet-tooth, but highly allergic. It happens.

"You hear them," he says, "but you don't listen. Because I definitely heard Yukon tell you that he had the Buffet under control yet you're checking his work."

"And rightly so," you point out. "We're missing the egg-free dessert option."

"So?"

"So? I asked for it. He said he'd get it done. Do I have to do everything myself here? Apparently so."

"Sit down," he orders calmly, and you'd maybe wonder about his lack of temper had you not experienced him being like that around you for the last three years. Apparently, Bakugo turns into the chillest little prankster you could think of, but only around you. "I'll get it done."

You want to say something, but you decide against it. You've seen Bakugo deal with other stuff before, stuff that was definitely more important than getting an egg-free dessert for the new secretary. You know he can get this done.

"Fine," you huff, "But make it quick. I still need to go over the new recruits with you."

"Have I ever kept you waiting?" He asks as he turns away, leaving you flustered.

-

"Maybe we should appoint her for Class President," Sato offers quietly, but not quietly enough. "She's managed to talk Mina down in less than five seconds and it doesn't look like she takes shit from anyone."

"The title of Class President is-"

A loud boom interrupts whatever Iida has tried to say. When the smoke clears, there's only a small force field keeping Bakugo from strangling Kaminari, who looks a lot less frightened than anyone in his position should be.

"Calm down, will you?" You ask, looking down at Bakugo from where you're standing. Keeping up the force field is taking its toll, but you'd rather puke than admit to it. Not in front of Bakugo at least. "Aren't you better than that?"

Surprisingly, that seems to work. He calms down quickly, leaning back in his chair with a scoff. "True." He says, but his blood-red eyes don't leave you. It feels like a Challenge. One you're not sure you'll win.

[stephofromcabin12]

🤫

Ahem:

Dionysus hid in his own home during that time between HOO and TOA 5 like the dad in arrested development until Zeus spotted him out and about and sent him back.

Hera has a swear jar on Olympus. It’s most frequently brought out during game nights.

Hermes has the loudest, most obnoxious ring tones. Several because he has multiple phones.

Ares is directly responsible for reddit’s existence. He’s not aware of this. He’s also banned from 9897996 subreddits. He’s started double that amount.

Apollo’s main strategy of getting out of conversations with people is to pretend to text and go “uuuhhhhmm” *taptaptaptaptaptap* “weeeellll, hmmm, uuhhhhhhhh” *taptaptaptaptap* until they get angry and give up trying to talk to him.

You’re most likely to run into Hermes, Apollo and Artemis at a gym (Artemis is just there looking for potential hunters)

You might assume Ares would be there but he’s not. He’s casually dropping into arenas and hotels that athletes stay at while playing for tournaments. And sports bars. So many sports bars.

He used to go to the olympic village but he got too distracted by the games to even bother picking up potential mortal partners.

Apollo had a plant phase (“nymphs dig plants, right?”) didn’t last long.

Artemis attracts cats and does not understand why, considering she’s hanging out with wolves all the time.

Hecate likes to send her unclaimed kids those tarot “this was meant to find you” readings everywhere with specific hints that she’s connected to them, to see if they figure it out. She also will only communicate through scrying and magic rather than IM’s, and gets very offended when her children don’t pick up on it at all. Her version of “cause you’re always on that damn phone” is “You never use your intuition!!”

Hypnos has shown up in his kids’ dreams multiple times, in various forms. Hey, gotta take advantage of unseen ways of checking in on ‘em right. He’ll visit other’s children if he’s asked nicely and you catch him in the right mood. More gods have asked him to do this than they’d care to admit.

Dionysus can identify the year and grape of a wine just by hearing it poured.

Aphrodite is unapologetically on all dating apps, and is unafraid to message any of her kids she sees, as well as demigods in general, just to say hi. She’ll sometimes say something ominous as if she’s seen their interests and is making ~plans~ for their future in love. She knows they’re mortified, that’s why she does it.

I see trash canon Ares and raise you: Coach dad Ares. Your classic coach dad. He’s arguing with their actual football coaches, he’s grilling after a victory, he’s putting kids in headlocks and ruffling their hair. His leather jacket may or not crinkle due to the Werther’s originals he carries around. He does the reach around snack hand on the solstices during the presentations.

At those solstice meetings every year, the gods have a nymph secretary to whisper their kids’ names in their ear in case they forget.

Ares has had the same dog for 4000 years. Its unclear if its really the same dog he’s kept around or if he simply gets the same kind of dog every-time the last one dies and names it the same name. It’s called Thyella or “Ty” for short.

This is just like— headcanon but I like the idea of the gods not only being distant and emotionally unavailable bc they’re bad parents but also bc they’re just: extremely confused by humans. Especially modern humans. They can’t keep up. They’re perplexed at the speed at which their demigod kids pick up, and leave behind, things, phrases and trends. And they hate not knowing things, and even worse, not being considered cool by their kids (where’s the honor in that?). So they feign disinterest but the easiest way to piss them off is to make something up and go “oh you don’t know about that? Mom/Dad that’s ancient news!” When they ask what you’re talking about.

Similarly my favorite headcanon for them is that they’re deities, as in, they’re not human. They’re unquantifiable. They’re at times almost creature like? Like, they’re confusing and everchanging and Other. There’s something distinctly Not Human about them, even when they’re trying to come across as one. A mortal might find it alluring, a demigod will probably find it slightly disturbing, especially when they occasionally catch a glimpse of it in themselves.

Demigods, because of this, also come across as almost not human to others at times. There’s something off about them. Its not the ADHD, it’s not the way they never use technology. Its the way they nod sagely in class when discussing ancient myths, like they’ve met the gods themselves or quietly add “psh, yeah they wish” under their breath while watching a documentary.

Its in the way their eyes look purple if the sun hits them just right, before you blink and they go back to their usual blue.

Their reflexes that, despite being so clumsy, are freakishly good under pressure. The sheer strength they have when you know they’ve never set foot in a gym.

Its the way you remember that one time in the second grade when your buddy took a baseball to the face and still to this day you could’ve sworn there was the tiniest swirling of something shimmery reflecting in the blood dripping down over their fingers; microscopic golden specks reflecting in the fluorescent lights on the way to the nurse’s office. You never mentioned it at the time, much too caught up in the drama and excuse to leave P.E early. But you still look at them now, years later, stretching out in the sun like a plant; trying to absorb as much light as possible, scars that they never mention and never acknowledge crossing their abdomen and arms, and you wonder what that’s all about.

In the case of adults, mortals don’t necessarily know that they’re speaking to a god, but there’s something about them that just— feels off. Not bad, not always. Just something in the way they know things that doesn’t make sense. How they seem to appear out of nowhere, appearance always perfect without them even trying. They don’t sweat. They don’t blush. They never run out of things to say. They never lose their way. People seem to just bend around them, like the time the restaurant they took you to was closed early and after a short conversation, the chef reappeared to open the kitchen just for you. Or the time they scored tickets to that sold out concert, or wrestling match. It’s so odd looking back on that fling all those years ago and realising that you dont think they ever showered. Or shaved. Not that it showed on them but that’s still odd right? Or the time they chatted with someone on the phone in a language you didn’t recognize.

“What was that language?” An innocent question, this was before you thought to be suspicious of these things.

“Greek.” They answer, not meeting your eyes.

“I didn’t know your family is from Greece,” you reply, trying to think if they ever mentioned it.

“Oh, we go way back,” they say, changing the subject before you think to ask more questions.

[kissesforsatoru]

can I request separate hcs for Bonten!Mikey, Sanzu, Rindou, Ran, and Sanzu x Farmer!Reader? like there's this one time where the boys asked the reader for a date but their own secretaries are making fun of the reader bcs yk she's from a farm and she doesn't wear any fancy clothes that the city girls have 👀

BONTEN! MIKEY, SANZU, RINDOU, RAN x GN!READER

₊˚⌗ bonten boys reaction to their darling being insulted

⤷ cw : general yandere themes, violence, threats, descriptions of injury, death, murder, slight nsfw for rindous part

notes : you put sanzu twice and i haven’t a clue who you could’ve meant instead so i just did the four you asked for

mikey is pissed. who the hell do these people think they are to be talking badly about you when they're just dumb fucking entitled sluts. their only personality trait is being a good fuck, unlike you who's kind and hard working. he needs to put them in their place, so he fucks with them a bit. but if they dare to ever say anything bad about you again, they're dead.

“i heard mikey asked out that farm person that was here the other day”

“really? them?”

“i know! their clothes look so rugged, i bet they’ll show up in overalls and a flannel or something like that. don’t they realize that they can’t wear stuff like that on dates?”

“mr. sano is way out of their league, i don’t know what he sees in them if i’m being honest.”

“right. he should be going after people with more class than that farm freak.”

mikey, sighs and sets down his glass with a force that causes the strippers sat around the booth to jump and look in his direction. he ignores them, instead standing up from his seat with a pissed off look on his face.

“sanzu.” he calls to his second as he walks towards the back exist of the club they’re currently occupying. sanzu smirks, knowing exactly what his boss wants without him having to say another word.

he’s quick to lure the girls outside where his boss waits, a cigarette between his lips that’s already been half smoked. the girls giggle as they look between sanzu and mikey, which just makes sanzu’s smirk grow wider with a thrill of excitement and anticipation. what dumb bitches, he thinks as he gestures to mikey.

mikey takes another drag of his cigarette before he wordlessly takes it from between his lips and grabs one of the girls—the one who called his bosses play thing a freak, sanzu remembers. she giggles again, giving her friend a look as she nuzzles up to mikey with an arch of her back that makes the man holding her quirk his lip in disgust.

“i’m fucking tired of sluts like you acting like you’re better than everyone because your loose pussy gets you a little bit of money.” he says lowly, threateningly, and finally, the girl stops giggling.

“what?” she says, body going rigid.

“your only value in this world is to be used and fucked, then get passed onto the next guy that wants some quick, cheap pleasure.” mikey continues. the girl begins to struggle in his hold, but mikeys grip only tightens.

the other girl tries to back away as she witnesses the situation unfold between her friend and mikey, but sanzu is quick to grab her and keep her in place with a knife to her throat.

“so what gives you the fucking right to talk shit about people with real value, hm?” he questions, flicking the ash off of his cigarette before taking another drag and blowing the smoke in the girls face. she coughs, struggling to breath as the smoke clouds her lungs.

“you’re not shit, unlike y/n. you need to be put in your fucking place, you dirty bitch.”

the girl screams as mikey puts his cigarette out on her arm, flicking the bud to the ground before doing the same to her.

“don’t ever fucking talk shit about them again or i'll kill you.”

sanzu coudn't have been scarier the moment he hears an insult to his darling leave someone's lips. he's crazy, so he's not going to just rough 'em up a bit, he'll straight up kill them without hesitation. anyone whos speaks bad things under his darlings name is a waste of space in his eyes.

"what the fuck did you just say?" he asks, chin tilted up as he gazes down at the woman who just said something bad about you--a display of superiority that has the girl shivering under his towering form.

her lip quivers as she tries to muster up the courage to say something, but all that can escape is a nervous laugh. sanzu sneers, lip curing in distaste as he pulls out his gun and pushes it against her forehead. he unlocks the safety and pushes teasingly on the trigger.

"w-wait! i'm sorry! sanzu, i-i didn't mean it!" she starts to scream, her heart thumping so loudly against her chest that sanzu can practically hear it. he smirks, pushing it further into her head which only coaxes more ugly sobs and screams from her vile mouth.

"did you not fucking hear me? are you deaf or somehting?" i asked you what you just fucking said." he repeats himself, laughing bitterly and coldly as the look on her face contorts more and more into a look of pure terror. good. she should be fucking sorry that she ever uttered your precious name.

"i-i said, y/n’s clothes look like they were t-taken from the dumpster. i d-don't understand why y-you asked them out." she stutters pathetically as she repeats the disgusting words she said about you just a second ago.

"that's what i thought i heard you say. i was hoping for your sake that i was wrong." he says coldly, any ounce of amusement on his face disappearing.

“w-what?” she askes, voice wobbly and hoarse from all the screaming she just did. she gulps and gives him a hopeful look when he lowers the gun. but instead of putting it away, he hits her haid with the gun, causing her to fall to the floor. she doesn’t get a chance to do anything other than scream and cry before sanzu speaks again.

"filth like you should learn to keep their mouths shut." he says, aiming his gun down at her before shooting.

rindou would insult the hell out of whoever insulted you, and he won't hold back either. anyone that isn't you is already trash to him, but anyone that insults you? they're the filthy dirt on his shoes as far as he's concerned. and if they have the gal to insult you again, he won't hesitate to cut off their tongue so they can never say anything bad about you again.

"rin rin, do you have to go out with that person from the other day?" the girl on his lap asks in a high pitched, whiney voice that gives him a headache. he hums, tilting his head in question as he tries to recall the person she's talking about. she pouts, bouncing in his lap when he doesn't remember.

"the one that looks like their clothes were washed with mud because of how old and dirty they were." she describes, and rindous body goes stiff with realization--she's talking about you.

"yeah, i do." he says curtly, turning his head to take a sip of his drink. the girl pouts some more, but this time she leans into him and drags her hand down his chest, her breasts pushing up against him to make them look bigger. she giggles after seeing the amused look he gives her.

"but why would you want to go out with an ugly person like them when you could stay and have fun with me." she whispers, trying to sound seductive, but rindou was pissed rather than turned on.

he pushes her off of him, uncaring of the fact that she fell on the floor and spilt her own drink all over herself.

"hey, what the fuck?!" she yells at him, but he ignores her and just takes another sip of his drink.

"and why the fuck would i want a desperate bitch like you, hm?" he asks, setting his glass down on his thigh as he leans forward and glares down at her. she doesn't say anything, but the look of disbelief on her faces makes rindou want to laugh.

"y/n is far better than some whore that doesn't even know how to turn a guy on properly." he says motioning to his flacid dick.

"honestly, how useless can you be? i paid a lot of money expecting a good fuck, and this is what i get? some try-hard bitch that's entitled and thinks she can replace my y/n" he scoffs, a feigned huff of a laugh leaving his lips as he shakes his head.

"you'll never be anything compared to what y/n is to me. you're just some whore i'm using for pleasure, but y/n is my everything." he says sternly.

"if you ever say some shit like that to me again i'll cut you're fucking tongue off." dumping his leftover drink on her, he stands up and leaves.

ran is similar to mikey in the way that he'd definitely fuck them up. he's not going to let anyone talk shit about you and get away with it. but the difference between him and mikey though, is he's a bit sadistic and enjoys fucking up anyone that talks shit about his darling.

"who did that person think they were coming into the club with dirty, old clothes? and they talked to ran so causally! he should've kicked them out right away for embarrassing him like that."

"excuse me?" the woman jumped at hearing someone behind her. she quickly turned around and sighed in relief seeing ran with an amused smile on his lips.

"oh my, i didn't notice you behind me." she giggled. "i was just saying you should've had that person thrown out from the other day. it was embarrassing how they came in here looking like they just got dragged through the mud. they didn't contaminate you or anything when they touched you, right?" she joked and ran laughed along with her, forced and strained.

"of course, they didn't." he says once she comes down from her fit of laughter, and his faces falls.

"why would they? they're perfect. unlike you who was born trash." he says, and the womans face scrunches up in confusion. ran grabs her arm with a smile before dragging her upstairs to his own private section of the club, all the while she's yelling protests that go ignored.

he throws her to the ground and looks down at her with a displeased look on his face. when she tries to stand up, he presses his foot against her body and pushes her back down to the floor.

"you said it yourself, right? filth doesn't have the privilege of standing and talking so casually to me." he says as one of the bouncers enters the room and hands him a baton. the woman begins to scream as ran looks down at her with mock sympathy before whacking her side.

"shut up. you should've kept your fucking mouth shut if you didn't want this to happen." he says just as the woman starts to cry.

[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!

[major-knighton]

Frank Crawley in Rebecca is so funny like. Imagine your boybestfriend refuses to talk about his dead crazy wife, so you're like "oh we're going for communally repressed trauma? Cool I can work with that" bc you are a British man.

But then you boybestfriend marries and brings home a girl who's so young and just nice that everyone wonder wtf she is doing in this gloomy hellhole and you can SEE that everyone and everything is making her miserable about being the second wife. You want to comfort her bc she's the only other morally decent person around but you're pretty sure that if you start talking shit about the dead wife the housekeeper might skin you alive and roast you like a kebab. So instead you try to like drop hints like "oh yeah the great and beautiful Rebecca who totally didn't murder kittens for fun you know I think you may actually be an improvement because you don't reign in terror over the house or make me cry myself to sleep no this is apropos of nothing"

Meanwhile boybestfriend is having even more nervous breakdowns than usual and the housekeeper is housekeeping even more aggressively and the dead wife's cousin-boyfriend is snooping around trying to blackmail people and you're just trying to do your goddamn job as a secretary and best friend. You don't know how to therapy because you are a British man in the 20s.

Then it turns out boybestfriend MURDERED the crazy wife but actually it was suicide and homie won't go to jail on account of killing people with Secret Cancer who fuck their cousins doesn't count as murder. And then the housekeeper becomes housedestroyer and burns down your home. And boybestfriend and alive-wife fuck off to France so you look for another job I guess.

[sisaloofafump]

I LOVE YOUR CAT!BRUCE POST!!!

Do you think someone would give him a cat after it's over?

Or would he maybe coincidentally find a stray cat out on patrol and the ears and tail look similar to what his looked like so he can't resist adopting it? If he did, he would keep it a secret from the others for as long as he could bc he just knows they'll make fun of him >:(

(and if somebody else gives him one I bet he'd be the typical "dad who didn't want a pet". Act like he doesn't like the cat in front of everyone until boom it's his little baby now)

Omg all amazing ideas.

Personally I think that cats start liking him a lot more after he's detransformed. When he was catlike, they would be weirded out by him, or see him as an immediate friend, or become territorial and try and scare him away (which caused quite a stir on his favourite stakeout roofs). But once he's human again, cats get the inherent sense that he is Safe, similar to how they congregate around Selina.

I think there are two types of people who try and give him pets: Socialites who give him a pretty little kitten with a bow, and who he immediately passes off to Lucius to organize the adoption of before his kids can notice. And Damian, the only one of the kids who lets his own wants for another cat completely overpower the impracticality and lack of capacity for another one. Luckily this hasn't devolved into acquiring a new cat (yet) but he takes his campaigning very seriously.

There are three cats in the manor already. Alfred the Cat (Damian's) and two of Selina's strays who came back after she left town. And everyone loves to take photos of them and Bruce. Before, when he was part cat, he had a bit too strong of a territorial rivalry with them. And when Selina left he grumbled all the time about how they should have gone with her. But as you said, he is the typical "dad who didn't want a pet" and his workstation usually has 1-3 cats lying around it. They're not super affectionate cats tho and mostly just slow blink at him from a distance.

However. One day he's out patrolling and comes across this butt ugly mangled orange cat. And he's so pitiful and so sweet and he sees a woman being robbed and jumps down on the attacker's head. Needless to say Bruce is hopelessly enamoured.

He takes this cat to the vet, dressed fully as Batman, and when the check up is done he tells himself he will deliver it to a shelter tomorrow. But those open in hours and he needs to take care of Batman business now, so he breaks into WE, is caught by a security guard when the cat screeches and refuses to let go, finally removes the cat's claws from his cape, hands the cat to a security guard, and says "for Bruce Wayne."

Most people in the vet & office (and Bruce verbally agrees with them) assume that Batman gave the cat to him as a prank or misguided association. This butt ugly mangled male orange stray becomes the office cat that Bruce spoils relentlessly when he's in. He can't even complain about receiving gag gift cat toys from his family and the league, when he constantly squirrels them away to pamper Princess with. (I mean, he does still complain, including about the quality of the gifts, but he shouldn't considering how much he uses them).

He makes very sure that his secretary and the night staff (who, if we're being honest, are the main ones taking care of Princess) follow all the proper dietary and behaviour guidelines.

"He looks just like me!" Bruce defends at a shareholder's meeting, holding the cat up to his face.

"Sureeee," the shareholders say as they attempt to move the meeting forward. They remember cat!Bruce's beautiful sleek black hair, his handsome countenance and graceful air. They look at this off brand roadkill Garfield. They decide not to talk about it further.

Also cat!Bruce & Clark thing that was part of the initial thingamathing

[its-your-mind]

sorry I won't be done dracula posting until never bc ALSO TODAY. WE GOT THE REMINDER OF JONATHAN'S HAIR. I know that hair-turned-white-by-trauma is a well-known and oft-utilized trope, but what I fuckin LOVE about jonathan is that yes. he has been supremely and deeply fucked up by what happened in castle dracula. it took him months to recover with the nuns, and even when mina brought him home he wasn't fully There. it was only after he spotted the count in london and had van helsing come and tell him that no, he was not mad, the memories he had were real, this monster is real and he's now stalking london... that we see an upturn in jonathan's recovery.

but the thing is. the THING. is. hair-turned-white-by-trauma characters are always characterized by a deep, deep wound to their psyche that never healed properly. their interactions with the rest of the world are shaped by that wound - the powerlessness they felt when there was something or someone trying who hurt them, and they had no way to stop the hurt. they'll do whatever they can do get away, and accept help from the first person who offers. and jonathan's story does follow that trend.

BUT THEN. most of the time, that powerlessness and fear is turned to a facade of stoicism, of intense calm, cut through with occasional abrupt bursts of an intense anger that seems to come from nowhere. but it doesn't come from nowhere. it's a self-protection instinct. they were hurt before. they will Not let something do that to them again.

jonathan... calls for mina. when she comes, he marries her instantly. he gives her his journal, makes her promise never to read it unless she absolutely needs to know what happened to him. wants to keep these memories buried. then lucy, then van helsing, then seward... it was all real. and these people want to stop this from happening to anyone else.

and to jonathan, this isn't a quest for vengeance. he stays back. he helps mina keep the logs. he provides information where he can, stays out of the way when he's not needed. he becomes a pillar of support, the "husband of madame mina" who is at her secretarial disposal. the others sleep outside their room to protect them. it is only after dracula attacks mina that jonathan asks to go out on missions, to help seek dracula out, to join in the pursuit, kukri knife in hand, ready to stop the vampire where he stands and stab him through the heart. and when the count escapes? when they have to make a plan of pursuit that may not work? jonathan does not vow to avenge his wife. he does not vow to kill the count at all costs. he vows that, if mina is to be turned and they cannot stop it, he will go with her. he will not allow her to live as such alone. a vow not made from a place of deep anger and pain, but from an even deeper place of personal, unshakable and devoted love.

the character arc for a hair-turned-white-by-trauma character is so often dominated by a journey back to trust, back to love.

jonathan went into dracula's castle with a journal of train schedules and paprika-filled recipes for his fiance. every time he believed himself close to death, he would write a goodbye to his beloved. and so when he escaped, body withered and mind shattered, he didn't patch himself back together again with ironclad mistrust and an impenetrable heart of steel. instead, he tried to get home. when he couldn't, he called for mina, and he waited for her. he could not trust his own mind. he knew she would come. his memories felt like lies. he had complete trust in her. when he was weak, he knew she would be strong. she would hold him, support him, until his mind was strong enough again.

[yestrday]

do u have crumbs of any of your au's to spare? 🤲 it could be au lore, character lore, little random tidbits of info - any teeny weeny little crumb. I am on my deathbed and having yester withdrawal symptoms and the only thing that can save me is your au fanservice blurbs

well! not lore drops but i have been thinking of starting another au which is witch! genshins and their specialized fields. i love funky magic yanderes. i've also thought of a fun character for the mc, who is just absolutely dead and numb to magic that the yandere could be pouring a whole love potion in their cup in front of them that they'll just sit and stare blankly. idk, i'll probably work on it after i finish up my other aus.

anyways! here's some lore drops for the academy au bc i miss those homicidal students!:

most of zhongli's former batchmates (ningguang, beidou, lisa, jean, etc) are quite amused that he used to be the student council president and at how much he's changed. he used to be a big, gruff delinquent, after all. ningguang, in particular, likes to tease him about it whenever they meet.

third year fem students are: candace, dehya, eula, keqing, ganyu, kujou sara, navia, rosaria, faruzan

2nd year students: amber, ayaka, charlotte, hutao. kirara, kokomi, layla, lynette, nilou, sucrose, shenhe, yoimiya, yunjin, yanfei

1st year students: barbara, noelle, xiangling, xinyan, fischl, collei, furina

graduates (zhongli's batch): beidou, jean, ningguang, lisa, nahida (💀), yae miko, yelan, raiden miko and ei.

although venti's the same age as zhongli, he entered school a year later.

neuvillette is the same batch as zhongli and has graduated! the two have a very tense relationship.

the current student council president is keqing. ganyu is the secretary-general. other student council members are: aether (first year representative), navia (second years representative), there is no representative for third years because childe started dissing venti onine and zhongli declined the nomination.

furina's age is around the third years' age but because of her acting career had to stop her education for two years.

the people currently competing for valedictorian is zhongli, keqing, and faruzan. kaveh was once in the running but his grades began to drop halfway through the year. baizhu could be in the running if it wasn't for his abysmal pe grades.

nahida was last years' valedictorian. and no, she has not skipped any grades.

[transmutationisms]

do you have any insight on roman and incest? i know that in succession, business = fucking and at some points all of the sibs talk about fucking their dad as in one upping him business wise, but ceirtain comments roman makes are obviously different. i've been rewatching s3 and he joked about repetedly entering his mother's vagina at ken's birthday, in that same episode he tells shiv that she's mad logan doesn't want to fuck her anymore bc he's fucking roman now... also when he tells her she can be his sexy secretary when he takes over, and many more examples

and this last episode when he was listening to that edited video of logan over and over, i know i'm not the only one who thought he might start jacking off... i guess my question is do you think roman has any actual incestuous desires? and if not, why does he say these things? is it attention seeking? trying to make people uncomfortable?

first of all, the jacking off undertones of that deepfake scene were absolutely there on purpose. i mean, what logan is 'saying' in that clip echoes the sort of dirty talk gerri used to provide, and the reason for that is because the whole driving force of the roman-gerri affair was him getting her to say things that logan used to say about him. gerri was always a daddy proxy for him; it was always about him jacking off to the way his father verbally degraded him, but then combined with gerri's willingness to serve as an actual business mentor for him, something logan would never do because he was frankly just disgusted at roman as a general rule.

which is to say: yes, roman has some genuine incestuous desire for his father, to the same degree that anyone else with a negative oedipus complex does. and this is central, i think, to the critique of the nuclear family that runs through succession. these psychoanalytic complexes are products of that family structure, which is itself embedded within the capitalist mode of production. roman's subconscious desire to fuck/marry his father is, the show suggests, just a more overt manifestation of the standard dysfunction that inherently plagues the social form of the family. it's elevated because of the degree of control logan asserted over roman, even well into adulthood, and the way his wealth and corporate power created that dynamic. but the suggestion here is not that the roys are uniquely incestuous or that roman is intrinsically a pervert; it's that family structures, which are capitalist structures, create this type of psychosexual (under)development. it's freud if he slayed (was friends with wilhelm reich and gilles deleuze).

i don't think we have any textual reason to think roman has incestuous desire for his other family members. he talks like that for a handful of other reasons. with the caroline stuff, he's partly just responding to shiv and logan accusing him of wanting to fuck her (logan does this because he thinks roman is a pervert but can't consciously face the fact that he's, like, gay for real, so his catholic brain goes straight to He's A Boy Who Wants To Fuck His Mother; shiv makes these accusations partly for similar reasons of seeing roman as dirty / perverted / abnormal and having no other explanation, and partly because she's deflecting from her own glaring caroline issues).

with the shiv stuff, this is sort of central to their relationship—that they both make crude sexual comments to each other. it's part of how they negotiate that rivalry-camaraderie thing. it's almost cute. also, most of these comments are so off-base that they're not actually bothered by them; it's noticeable when one of them actually crosses a line (like shiv saying "some day you're actually going to have to fuck something").

overall roman's relationship to his own sexuality is fraught, partly because of logan's homophobia and resulting surveillance of roman's sexual expression, and partly because of roman's relationship with his body. also, like his siblings, roman grew up in the middle of the sexual violence corporation. he doesn't really know how to think about sex in any way besides as a violation, and this is reflected in how he talks about it. he uses incestuous or sexually crude jokes as a way to deflect from certain emotional intimacies, to present himself as disgusting so that he can pre-empt other people making him feel that way, and as a way of conveying his sense that he's at the bottom of the hierarchy and is emotionally, physically, and sexually vulnerable.

[tachimichishrine]

"high school"

⫭◦⨝◦⫬

doa + hunting dogs {high school AU! hcs}

warnings: none!! just keep in mind this isn't an xreader!!

decay of angels

nikolai is, without question, the class clown, and head of the drama club

the teachers HATE him

he asks waaaaaay too many questions, and all the time, too

and they're so random???

they'll be in the middle of a test and he'll ask the teacher "how's your marriage doing right now? how's your partner, are they doing well?"

lowkey gets kicked out of the class daily

now spends most of his time playing cards with the secretary in the office

bram sometimes gets sent there as well, just because he's in the mood to take a nap

however, he doesn't really say that, he'll make up some kind of excuse like "oh it's my medical condition, I have limited energy" because he's paraplegic, even if it's bs

he's also that one edgy kid who sits in the back of the class discussing the end of the world

he??speak??so??oddly??

"death cometh for thou," like dude okay no need to talk like that???

the only person who actually understands what he says is fyodor, the reigning chess champ in the school

he's also very tired all the time, but he doesn't sleep, he'll just answer a few questions here and there if he's forced to, just to shut up the teacher

does the absolute bare minimum effort to pass class because he thinks it's all useless

"you have great potential, and I'm sure you understand all the material, fyodor, so with just a bit of effort-"

"thank you for the advice."

gets up and leaves 💀

fukuchi is the gym teacher that yells all the time and tells students to do pushups just because he feels like their face is mocking him

everyone either loves his class or dreads it

nikolai is fine, he's not all that athletic but he can run pretty decently and, worst case scenario, he just needs to bug the teacher and get sent to the office again to complete his game of poker with the secretary

fyodor hates gym class

with a burning passion

I CAN'T EVEN ENVISION HIS STICK-LEGS RUNNING PROPERLY SKJGKSJFG

hides under any large object and waits it out

bram is in a wheelchair so he just smugly looks at coach like "haha sucker!", only to be given dumbbells and told to do upper body workouts

now, fyodor and bram are hide-from-gym-class buddies

sigma is in preschool

yk since he's like 3 years old-

CHUBBY CHEEKS

he's so precious unlike all the other toddlers, but he does cry a lot

A LOT

LIKE WAY TOO MUCH

"sigma, you have to share your blocks with our friends, okay?"

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA"

the caretakers still love him tho

BABY SIGMA BABY SIGMA BABY SIGMA BABY SIGMA

hunting dogs

jouno and tecchou are the upperclassmen, which is surprising given how many braincells they share between them

jouno is hands down the pretty popular jock on campus and all the girls FALL TO THEIR KNEES

he does get in trouble every once in a while for bullying people or threatening them, but he has practically seduced the principal at this point, so it's no biggie

tecchou is that one kid who raises their hand in class and gets everything wrong

he's great in gym class, though, seeing as he likes to work out in his spare time

some girls try to approach him while he's doing his own thing and staring at the ground but he's like "wait."

"...wait? for what?"

"the ants"

"...the ants???"

"you were about to step on them."

girls have now stopped trying to approach him

tachihara is the Bad Boy™ with Family Issues™ and Inferiority Complex™

he gets in trouble A LOT

unlike Nikolai, it isn't for harmless questions or disturbing the class, it's for beating up someone else and egging someone's locker and placing a pin on the teacher's chair and-

needless to say, the teachers hate him with a burning passion

he's taking teruko as his apprentice in chaos, given she'd be around two year younger than him

she doesn't get in trouble bc (assuming this is a different school and everything) the gym coach fukuchi defends her in front of the school staff ALL THE TIME since she's his favorite student

she's surprisingly good at most subjects, except...

m a t h 

she screams and throws a full-on tantrum by tossing her math book outside the window then setting it on fire because this girl CANNOT survive variables and constants and graphs and parabolas

fly high, math notebook 😞✊🕊

[quillyfied]

Apology Tour details I forgot to gush about:

- Verosika finally dropping the pronounced O from Blitzo’s name. Never once does Blitzo call her on it like he does everyone else, so the fact that she does it on her own says a lot about how healing their conversation was for her and I love that for her.

- honestly it didn’t even occur to me that Blitzo should have told Stolas about the assassination attempt. So when he let it slip, I was completely blindsided as well as delighted. I genuinely don’t think Blitzo MEANT to keep it from Stolas; I think he just didn’t think about it, for all the reasons he mentions regarding Stolas’ hardiness. (ADHD coded Blitzo in the house lol)

- really would like to know if all Lust demons are called succubi for ease purposes, or if Better Than Blitzo Guy is an incubus (insert obligatory “wouldn’t it be fun to play with the terms succubus/incubus on a sexual dynamic scale rather than a gender scale” discussion here)

- Blitzo seems to be speaking really slowly for him when he’s raging about Stolas getting kissed, which makes me think he’s REALLY angry; reminds me of when he’s telling Striker to “get his shit-stained claws” off Fizz, just a drawl that feels so much more angry than his usual fast pace.

- cannot stress enough how even when they’re in the middle of fighting, Blitzo keeps trying desperately to bring their relationship back to sex bc he wants his status quo back, bc that’s still the only reason he can think of that Stolas would want him. Why ANYONE would want him. I need Ghostfuckers to BREAK HIM. I want that man sobbing his guts out and then picking himself up and looking himself in the mirror and wanting to change for himself as much as for the people he loves. You can do it, Blitzo, I believe in you.

- look guys I have zero doubts in my mind that Stolas and Blitzo together are endgame. I have equally as few doubts about the fact that it ain’t gonna be this season. Prepared to be pleasantly surprised! (Though I can’t deny that having half to a full season of mutual pining while working together and taking things slow and steady would be my ideal scenario tbh. Blitzo chewing his desk to bits over Stolas’ cute secretary glasses pls)

- as someone else pointed out…“I sorried Fizz so hard he CRIED!” Blitzo YOU cried, you over-emotional projector, you.

- the more we see about Blitzo and his past relationships and his current wants, the more obviously his deflection of “relationships are boring, I’m doing everyone a favor” rings so hollow, so much like a kid telling himself he doesn’t want that lollipop anyway because he’s never going to have it and it’s less painful to be the one rejecting than to be rejected. He’s cracking, but I need that walnut BROKEN OPEN. Bleed out all that venom, let the bone set and heal properly this time.

- GOSH I hope Vassago can be a genuine friend to Stolas, both because Stolas needs it, and because I love Harvey Guillen to bits and am so excited to meet his character 😆

Okay. I think that’s everything for now.

[molter-writes]

- I see Richard II as an opener, and I’m pouring myself a stiff one because we’re starting by setting the thermostat at insane.

- fuck, the timing of the pregnancy just hit with the “we’ll have to relocate to the palace soon.” The fact that they both decided to have a family before they knew Rhaenyra would be saddled with the crown is really devastating.

- of course baby Daeron has baby silver curls like the widdle renaissance angel he is, of course

- (Married woman, taken woman, wanted woman.)

(Loved woman, cherished woman, someone’s woman.)

Safe woman.

Okay but the way you encapsulate canon Alicent’s deep desire to conform to the kind of doe-eyed womanhood her society expects of her, and at the same time somehow make it wholesome? This should be illegal. It’s definitely some sort of dangerous mind-altering witchcraft. Please never work in government. Or, you know, given the givens, do.

-okay so minor detail but I do love the constant of Rhaenyra’s Home Renovation Antics in The Molterverse™️

-“anything not making intuitive sense to me must be ipso-facto preposterous” okay but the way I HOLLERED, because *yes, absolutely Rhaenyra* but also me, because of course I’m soooo smart 😂🙄

-Secretary of State for Defence, the Rt. Hon. Jason Lannister, Earl of Lincoln.—Well, pack your bags everyone, country’s *fucked*

-I think it’s quite inspired to show how Alicent’s satisfaction at being a *good* caretaker (while of course done out of love and duty both canonically and here) is in large part due to the sense of control and power that she derives from the act. She times the medicine, she presides over Rhaenyra’s recovery, she finally has all of Rhaenyra’s time and attention again in some capacity—and fuck the engagements and country and staff. Possibly in that order.

- Can I say, one of the things I’m really enjoying about this story is the…diegetic? Way you’ve incorporated the news as organism and organization giving voice to The People in counterpoint to the Crown, much like Alicent just wants to go back to being a normal person and Rhaenyra is slowly consumed by the shackles of the throne.

- Her fingers making Michelangelo indents on Rhaenyra’s skin—oh we’re pulling out the art history? We’re bringing out the big guns? It’s going to be like that? Alright. Talk dirty to me.

- “a donkey trot to Valhalla” her poor cervix (she’s loving it), I don’t think I’ve laughed this much at a 5 word sentence IN MY LIFE. Valhalla is correct because I AM BATTLING DEMONS HERE AND THEYRE WINNING

- Also it should go without saying, but sometimes it’s nice to hear it, so: HOT

- OH MY FUCKING GOD, is Alicent totally masterminding the absolute fucking tanking of this fucking tour? WE LOVE TO SEE IT.

- Oh god, the way Rhaenyra just needs Alicent to believe she can be a good Prince of Dragonstone, the way Alicent just needs Rhaenyra to leave it all behind and pay attention only to her and their baby, the way THEYRE THE ONES WHO SHOULD BE GOING TO SPEECH THERAPY BECAUSE THEY CANT FUCKING COMMUNICATE. 🥺😫😤😍😍😍

- “I’m sorry that you still live with bread, Rhaenyra.” Her voice wavers. “Feel want. Taste grief. I don’t find it pathetic at all. I love the mortal bones of you, Rhaenyra.” She opens the door, then, to the light. “But I know how badly you’d wish it otherwise.”

Praying and hoping and begging that Ryan Condal and Sarah Hess read this before season 3. Behold, a perfect thesis statement.

-“He’s done the work for us tonight, hasn’t he,” she croons. “Give him his due.”

fuck Rhaenyra is going to *murder her* when she realizes how beautifully she’s been played.

-Rhaenyra stares back at it. Her lips are wet. “Gods,” she murmurs. Turns it in the light. “That really is a beautiful green.”

Yes drink the poison, Rhaenyra, the poison from your wife, your wife’s poison, bc she loves you so.

-oh my god it was ACTUALLY FUCKING POISON? I was JOKING! I am a god of narrative. Actually, I think that’s you. Holy Jesus mother of fuck.

-“she draws her closer, and sees movement, on the horizon—a van—and tugs her closer, closer still.”

Christ I can see the headlines already, Feckless Princess of Dragonstone feigns ilness to abandon tour, captured frolicking with Princess Consort as thousands die abroad.

-re: headline, ah, well your was more concise!

-I need a 10000 word fic where Daemon chokes on his own blood slowly while everyone and everything he loves, which is very little, mocks and ridicules him. It’s the least he deserves.

-Anyway, to recap the most important thing: RIP Alicent’s Cervix, you have been Witnessed™️

i wish i could mainline these and then post them as the official commentary to the chapter i swear to god it's like you are in my mind