#when she asked me if i thought she was a bad person she answered her own question going 'i dont think so.

[fandom-lover2]

Actions Speak Louder Than Words

Miko has a bad day, and Optimus learns what body language is.

Word Count - 3040

-image not mine-

Today was… normal.

As normal as one could get when their guardian is a 20 foot tall metal warrior from another planet, but today hadn’t been any different than the others.

Woke up, got ready for Saturday (Ratchet’s favourite day because we were at the base all day) and hitched a ride with Bee and Raf to base.

We were the first humans here. Ratchet and Optimus were already hard at work at the monitors, scanning for energon and logging reports and doing whatever it was that they continuously did at those computers.

After exchanging greetings and brief conversation, Raf and I settled down while Bee waited for Bulk so patrol routes could be run.

It didn’t take long for the roar of a motorbike’s engine to fill the tunnel and Jack was rolling in on Arcee, Miko and Bulk close behind.

“Thought you had work today?” I called down to Jack, not moving from my spot at the desk with the human monitors where I was preparing to start my history essay on the similarities between Ancient Greek mythology and Shakespear (don’t judge, I find it interesting).

“Schedules got moved around. Apparently I’m ‘Working too much’ and they don’t want to pay me.” Jack replied, beginning up the stairs.

What followed was the sound of two Autobots transforming, and then silence.

I glanced over my shoulder, making sure Bulkhead had actually brought Miko. There she was, walking up the stairs behind Jack. I frowned, but turned back to my papers.

“Where to today, boss?” Bulkhead questioned.

“Once you have restocked your energon, we are going to northern Alaska. Our scanners have sensed an energon signal.”

“If it’s black, fight back.  If it’s brown, lie down. If it’s white, goodnight.” I warned jokingly to Jack and Miko, not looking up from my textbook.

For mid-April, Alaska would be warm enough now that they could go along and maybe not freeze. That also meant the bears would be out and about.

Me personally, as much as I wanted to tag along, this essay would take a while and with spring break around the corner, I didn’t have time to go off on excursions.

That’s why I came here to work on it, Ratchet would keep me from getting too distracted. I’d texted last night asking as much.

“Eh, I have some homework to catch up on.” Jack answered, and I heard him pull out the chair at the desk near the couch and get settled. Beside me, Raf was already lost to the world of coding and typing away on his laptop with ferocity.

I waited for three breaths, and then frowned when there wasn’t a reply. I spun in my wheelie chair, and watched as Miko sat down on the couch.

Ok, what was up?

Firstly, she didn’t sit anywhere, she flopped. And secondly, she never took up only one end of the couch. Usually, she dramatically lounged across it while whining that it was taking forever for Bulkhead to get ready so they could head out. And also, what was with the silence. Not even a sarcastic greeting to Ratchet.

Something was up with her. It wasn’t her birthday, wasn’t a Japanese traditional holiday she was missing, wasn’t school related cause yesterday she had a good day.

I glanced over at Jack and he was turned in his seat too, looking just as confused.

He caught my gaze and gave the ‘you see it too?’ look.

‘Yeah. What’s up with her?’ I shrugged subtly.

Jack raised his brows slightly, ‘I don’t know. She didn’t say anything to me.’

 I rubbed my lips together, my go to for thinking.

‘You should talk to her.’ Jack prompted, jerking his chin just a bit.

‘Me? Why me?’ I frowned.

‘Well I can’t. I’m a guy.’ Jack answered, looking down at his chest and then back up to me.

‘Fine.’ I agreed, rolling my eyes. Men are such weirdos.

With a sigh that didn’t need to be that dramatic, I got off my chair and made my way to Miko. On my journey, I happened to glance over and found Optimus watching me with an intense stare.

It was almost enough to make me stumble over my own feet.

I had long since given up trying to understand Optimus, mostly because there wasn’t much to understand. He was a simple guy, someone who carried a lot of weight on his shoulders and had only made it so far in life by concealing his emotions.

If he was pissed, you’d know it in the way he spoke. If he was at ease, he’d hang around a little longer in the common area before heading off to wherever it was he went. If he was stressed, he’d assign himself the longest patrol route so he’d have more time to get away. Easy as that.

This, open and intense studying, was a new one. A part of me wanted to ask, but I was on a mission already. Sky and ocean blue would have to wait.

As I got closer, it was obvious something was wrong. She sat hunched, eyes glued to the floor and hands folded in her lap. Her eyes were puffy and a little red, and she sniffed when I got close.

Crying, hunched over, hands in good posture… oh god. She was going back to Japan.

“Hey Meeks.” I greeted, sitting on the sofa beside her.

There was the long approach, of asking how she was, and then going through all the small talk. Or, I could ask it upfront and get this going. Knowing her, the only way to get it out was to hit her hard.

“What’s wrong?” She looked up at me, and as it always happens when someone asked ‘Are you ok?’ when you already aren’t, the water works started.

“They won’t let me dye my hair.”

Between the beginning to cry breaking her voice and the fact that she lunged at me, I only got some of the words before she was burying herself into my chest and sobbing. My arms wrapped around her, shuffling forward so I could pull her into my chest and cradle her closer.

“What?” I asked, needing to hear that again.

“My host parents.” I could faintly make out. “They won’t let me dye my hair.”

Her outburst had caused everyone to look at us, and Bulkhead was rushing over from the supply station, an adorably confused face that suited a toddler better than all 18 feet of him looking to me for the answers.

Either he didn’t know how to start this conversation, or he’d not seen something was wrong on the ride over. Either way, I was now being watched like the one with the answers.

Miko sobbed into my shirt again and I realized I was supposed to be doing something.

Ok, let’s back up to what she said. Her host parents wouldn’t let her dye her hair. Well, the pink was starting to wash out a little, leaving only the bleach behind. And, her hair had grown out a bit since our first meeting. And, based on what she’d told me about her host family, they did seem very ‘stick up the ass’ about this kinda thing.

Still, not letting her dye her hair. Come on, assholes. It’s part of who she was, her personality. It was just hair dye.

Miko sobbed again, and I continued to hold her close.

It was just hair dye, and yes it made her seem like a delinquent, but in the land of Freedom, let her live. No one was getting hurt.

“So fuck them.” I spoke, plain and simple.

“Kristin!” Jack chastised.

“What?” I demanded.

Miko had released me in her shock and was now sitting upright, wiping her tears.

I turned to Optimus. “Mind if I pull Bulk for a couple hours?”

He didn’t take long to consider it. “You may.”

I smiled back at him in thanks, standing and heading for my bag, which was left by my books. I paused just briefly, but then slammed my textbook closed and slung my bag onto my shoulder. I could do it later.

“Coming?” I asked Miko, making my way to the stairs and skipping down them.

“Where?” Miko asked, hesitant to follow.

“To buy hair dye.” I called over my shoulder.

I heard her gasp, then scramble to rush down behind me. Bulkhead transformed, opening his front doors for us.

Miko reached me as we got to the bottom of the stairs, slamming into me from behind and encasing me in a hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she repeated over and over.

“Yeah, yeah. Get in.” I redirected, shrugging her off.

“Bulk, play something awesome!” Miko instructed, rushing to get into his passenger seat. A moment later, something metal and ear assaulting blasted from his speakers.

I regretted this already.

---

I, thankfully, got to choose the music on the ride back, so Elle King announced our arrival back to the base.

Bulk pulled to a stop and we jumped out his cab, me pulling the two plastic bags with us.

Miko took off into the base, not a glance back as she shouted “Come on!”

I had one pit stop to make before we commandeered the bathrooms.

“Jack!” I called, jerking my head for him to meet me halfway as I started up the stairs.

He did, and I handed over the second bag.

“What’s this?” he asked, glancing inside to find soda, candy and some bags of chips.

“Do not disturb tax. We’re having a girl’s day.”

Spinning on my heels, I marched back down the stairs and made my way into the base.

---

I flopped onto the old chair with a groan, my back protesting. Three hours of standing was not easy.

But hey, Miko has bright pink ends and was currently kicking Raf’s ass at Mario Cart, so it was worth it. Kinda.

This shirt had been one of my favorites and now it was bleached to all hell.  And my ears were still ringing from the speaker we’d used.

But hey, karaoke was the bomb. Totally worth it.

I moved my hands to rest on my back, using them to lean backwards and stretch my spine.

Primus, what time was it anyway?

Jack had left a couple hours ago for his shift and said his mom had made us stuff for dinner that’d he bring back. Miko and Raf would be getting ready to head home soon.

Jack and I would probably spend the night. June had nightshift and my parents were out of town again so there wasn’t a reason for either of us to make the trip back.

Spinning the chair around, I opened my textbook again. Interlacing my fingers and giving them a crack, I started up my laptop and got busy.

At first I struggled to find a point to start on, but once finding a cool quote online, the words started flowing and flowing.

I apparently missed Raf and Miko’s goodbye and Jack’s arrival because the next thing I knew, Ratchet was using a digit to cover my screen.

“Oi!’ I turned to glare up at him.

“I understand all the well putting your health aside for a project, but you need food and sleep.”

I glanced down at my phone and tapped the screen, 11:34pm shining back at me.

Oh scrap, I had been here for almost 4 hours. How was that even possible?

I looked around the base. Optimus was watching with just as much concern as the medic, Jack asleep on the couch already. Well that explained why my eyes were burning and why my stomach ached so fiercely.

“Yeah, ok.” I conceded, rubbing my eyes. “Lemme just save this quick.”

Ratchet relented, moving his digit so I could quickly save the document before gently closing my laptop.

Standing, almost every bone and joint in my body cracked. Ratchet cringed, having verbally stated his hate when I did that many times before.

Barely having enough energy to shuffle, I made my way to where ‘dinner’ sat cold. Eh, lasagna was better cold anyway.

Grabbing a plastic fork, I ate straight from the glass dish, barely able to keep my eyes open. Ratchet wished me a goodnight and I returned the sentiment between yawns.

I had just finished all I was going to eat and was preparing to get settled on the smaller sofa when Optimus walked over and held out his servo for me. No need to tell me twice.

I climbed abord and let him carry me to his room. When we got there, he sat on his berth, and then swung his legs over and got settled on his back while I situated myself on his chestplates.

The pillow and blanket that were left in his room for occasions like this were brought up for me and I thanked him, curling in onto him.

Yeah, I slept on his chest when I slept over. And yes, it was extremely dangerous but he was yet to roll over in his sleep and kill me so we’d keep doing it.

“Y/n,” he started.

I hummed in the form of a reply for him to continue, fluffing my pillow.

“You planned to do your school work earlier, but then when Miko confessed her distress, you abandoned your work to help her. Why?”

What kinda question was that?

“She needed me.” I answered simply, shifting slightly so I could look him in the optics. “I could always do the work later. She needed me then.”

Optimus seemed to accept that answer. “How did you know she was in trouble?” I went to answer, but he continued. “And those actions you and Jack exchanged, almost as if you were having a conversation, but without words. How was that possible?”

I huffed a laugh, getting settled once again and closing my eyes. “Body language. We could read each other through our actions, and those translated into words. Same thing with how Miko was acting. She wasn’t talking, sitting by herself, hunched into herself. She was sad. Jack shrugged, meaning he didn’t know why.”

I paused, thinking of how I could possibly explain it any further and found there really wasn’t much more I could say. Body language just was.

Thinking back on it, the bots never really did speak through body language. All conversations were verbal, and I’d never seen them silently gesture to one another before.

There wasn’t really a way to explain it to someone. You could explain some of the actions, but it was so ingrained in human culture, it was never a need explain. It was the universal language, though now I guess it was only the human language.

“I’ll teach you sometime.” I said through a yawn, settling down further into his warm metal.

“Rest well, My Spark.” Optimus agreed, bringing up his servo to settle over me.

I drifted off to sleep moments later, the sound of his spark beating steadily in my ear.  

----

“You are… cold.” Optimus finally settled on his answer, which was so far from the correct answer Miko and Raf dissolved into giggles.

Jack looked wounded. “Am I that bad at acting?” he lamented, giving up and walking away.

The intended action was bored, or uninterested, but to the Cybertronian warrior, somehow sitting with a sigh and resting your head on your fist meant being cold.

These lessons were taking a lot longer than I thought they would, and apparently more coaching than I’d imagined.

Body language was seriously something none of the bots knew. In fact, Ratchet had laughed at the concept until I’d explained to him some of the common actions we did.

He then grumbled about how these pointers would have been helpful when dealing with Agent Fowler, like it was our fault no one debriefed him on human mannerisms.

“Bored. He was bored.” I answered, standing too. This was not going well.

“He is not the only one.” Arcee mumbled.

I turned to glare over at her. “No one asked you to join in.” I muttered even softer than her quip.

“You don’t like Arcee.” Optimus blurted out.

Jack barked out a laugh so hard he missed the chair he was aiming for and hit the floor. Miko and Raf dissolved into more giggles.

“Well that only took 6 months.” I sighed. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea anymore.

The blue and pink stabby stabby femme turned to look at me, her optics narrowed. I looked away to avoid her gaze.

No doubt this would come back to bite me in the ass later on.

“You are embarrassed.” Optimus helpfully decided to test his knowledge.

He wasn’t wrong, but I wasn’t too embarrassed. I wasn’t trying to hide my dislike for her. But being called out in front of her by him was a little harsh.

“Good work, Optimus.” I rewarded his observation. The proud little smile he awarded himself was too adorable.

All jokes aside, we were making some progress. And once I’d see the bots use some of our gestures when they’d been sneaking up on ‘Cons and couldn’t talk.

In some ways, us humans were actually helping out there. And teaching these ancient bots something new.

And Optimus was like a little puppy, so excited to learn more and prove his skills, which were still in development but he was getting there.

We still had to work on his ability to read the room, and when to keep his observations to himself.

But we’d get there.

To save everyone from the embarrassment, the tones sounded for energon signals being picked up.

“Time to roll!” Miko cheered, like she going to go anywhere.

“Sit down.”

“You are authoritative.”

“Optimus, just go out… there, somewhere!” I snapped, gesturing to the opening portal.

This was seriously turning into something I regretted.

The Prime walked over to his screen, and made a plan with his team, and then just before slipping through the groundbridge, he turned to me and said, “You are annoyed.”

“Optimus!” I picked up an empty soda can and yeeted it towards him.

I seriously needed to rethink this decision.

[boybandbaby]

Best of My Life (Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Non-BAU!Reader)

guess this is a 5 times hotch let’s the team see his relationship

word count: 1676

warnings: unspecified brutal case, alcohol, tattoos, established relationship, axes, sweet!hotch

note: the bar scene is from my favorite scene in one of my favorite movies check it out here (all credits to the movie) frank farmer gives me hotch vibes

tag: @bernelflo based on your request though I did go off track I’m so sorry I tried my best

1️⃣

Hotch finally got a break from the team’s badgering after they met you. Well kind of. While they finally got to see you and meet you in person, they were still curious about your relationship and dynamic.

Once Penelope asked if you had met Jack yet, Hotch wouldn’t shut up about you two.

“Oh my god, he’s worse than Spencer.” Derek shook his head, leaning against his desk as he watched Hotch tell the girls another story about you. Something about you being good with an axe.

“Hey!” Spencer yelped.

When Hotch introduced you to Jack for the first time, you’d all went axe throwing. You picked the activity not wanting Jack to think you were boring. Jack ended up loving it and loving you.

Spencer’s mouth gaped as he watched Hotch pull his phone out to show the girls a video of you and him taken by Jack during that date. While Jack’s teenager instincts told him it was gross, he thought it was nice to see his dad so sweet so he recorded it. The video showed you pressed up against Hotch’s back as you moved his arm in the correct position to throw the axe. You kissed his cheek and gave Aaron space to throw the axe and for your safety. When Aaron hit the target, you cheered and clapped your hands. “Your dad isn’t too bad, huh Jack?” You stated before the video ended.

Hotch tucked the phone away before heading back up into his office.

“I would never have thought Hotch would be sharing his private life with us.” JJ smiled into her mug.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Penelope sighed, dreamily. “They’re so cute together. Oh shoot, he forgot his coffee.”

Penelope picked up the black travel mug adorned with “best boyfriend ever” in cursive on the side.

“Look!” JJ pointed at the words. “He’s so whipped!”

Penelope took the cup up to his office not bothering to knock. “Here Hotch, wouldn’t want you to forgot that you’re the best boyfriend ever.”

“Thanks, Garcia.” Hotch smiles, doesn’t even comment on her light teasing.

2️⃣

While away on a case, the team noticed Hotch had stepped away to answer a phone call. Assuming it was work related they didn’t say anything until 10 minutes later, he still hadn’t come back.

“You think he’s okay?” Emily asked.

“Let’s go check on him.” Derek urges.

Much to their surprise. Hotch is seated in an empty room, legs kicked up on the table, leaned back, and phone to his ear.

While he’s happy to hear from you and listen to you ramble about your day, he does know there’s a case to be solved and an unsub to be stopped. There’s a sparkle in his eye though his lips aren’t smiling. He wouldn’t want anyone to see him smiling during a case so brutal and get the wrong idea.

Derek and Emily hear snippets of his side of the conversation.

So, you took him to the zoo and aquarium? You’re spoiling him too much.

I know I wish I was there with you both

Where are you going to dinner? Use my credit car. It’s in my nightstand

When I get back, how about we go to that spa you’ve been talking about? We can get a couples massage

Why wait until Valentine’s Day when we can go now?

Okay, we’ll stop by the pie shop on our way back. I’ve got to head back the team is probably looking for me.

I love you.

Hotch looks up to see the amused faces of his two agents.

He stands from the chair and straightens his tie. “Sorry about that, y/n has been calling me to make sure I take at least 10 minutes a day for myself during cases. She says I’ve been working too hard.”

“Happiness looks nice on you, Hotch.” Derek states and it’s definitely not his normal teasing.

3️⃣

When they’re back in the office and it’s a paperwork day, the team decides to order in for lunch.

Penelope knocks on his door to get his order and sees he’s already eating. “Already got lunch, sir?”

“Yes, y/n made this incredible meal last night and packed me some for lunch. Come give it a try.” He pulls out a spoon from his lunchbox. Garcia internally squeals. Her boss, Aaron Hotchner has a lunch box. She can see that it’s a plain black lunchbox. On the right side there’s a small net holding a few napkins, a set of reusable utensils, and a folded sheet of binder paper with ‘A <3’ on it. On the right side, there’s an open Tupperware with some chicken, rice, and vegetable dish. There’s a granola bar, bottle of water and cup of yogurt.

Garcia approaches the desk as Hotch scoops a little bit of everything on the spoon and hands it to her. He continues eating as he reads a document on his desk. Garcia hands him back the spoon and agrees at how tasty it is. She leaves Hotch alone to enjoy his home cooked meal.

4️⃣

Hotch laid on his right side, propped on one elbow and feet crossed at the ankle. You sat on the same lounge chair in front of him but facing away. Hotch had his free hand rubbing at the lower half of your back while you talked to JJ and Will about the concert you and Aaron had went to last weekend.

“You should’ve seen him! I mean I didn’t know the frozen margaritas would get him so drunk!” You laughed. “Aaron danced and sang the whole time.”

“I really liked the music.” He shrugged. You had introduced him to one of your favorite bands and he had gotten you tickets.

“I had to massage his knees the next day.” You laugh. “Poor baby was so sore.”

“I was more than sore. I was in pain.” He smiles. “Not to mention we had gotten tattoos that day.”

Record scratch. The other members of the team pause their separate conversations to inquire more.

“You got a tattoo?” Garcia squealed.

“Nothing too flashy.” He smiles, “something tasteful.”

“Well let’s see it!” Emily gushes.

You show them your leg, a small ‘AH’ in something similar to Times New Roman inked onto the back of your left ankle.

Aaron sits up, rolls his sleeves up, and shows his forearms. On the right is a small ‘J’ and on the other side in the same font, your initial, etched just below his elbow crease. He wanted something he could cover during work, like he said, nothing too flashy.

“That’s insane.” Spencer mumbles. “I am actually speechless.”

“Very tasteful, Aaron.” Dave raises his drink to Aaron.

5️⃣

You’d been invited by Hotch to join an after work outing to get some drinks.

Hotch and Dave stood at the bar, discussing Rossi’s upcoming vacation plans. Hotch listens but keeps his eyes on you. Partially for safety reasons but mainly because he loves looking at you.

While you dance with the girls, twirling and smiling, a woman slowly comes up to him.

“Hi.” She says breathy and sultry.

Aaron takes a sip of his drink, his eyes barely flickering to the woman before narrowing back on you. You throw your head back and grip Emily’s bicep as you laugh at a particularly raunchy dance move from Penelope.

Aaron thinks, just ignore her and she’ll go away. She unfortunately doesn’t get the message and squeezes herself between Dave and Aaron.

“I couldn’t help but notice how handsome you are.” The woman coos as she begins to press her body into Hotch’s side. “I’ve been watching you all night from across the room.”

“Why don’t you go back there and keep watching.” Aaron roughly pulls his arm so it’s not touching the woman. She’s taken aback and rushes back to where she’d come from, clearly embarrassed and humiliated.

“Brutal, Aaron.” Rossi laughs.

“Not interested, Dave.” Hotch meets his eyes.

“Clearly.” Rossi nods his head in your direction. Aaron’s eyes turn back just as you’re approaching.

You’re not quite drunk but not quite tipsy either as you stumble towards him. “Hi handsome!”

“Hi honey.” He sets his drink on the table and his hands immediately find your hips.

“Did you see Penelope? Her moves attracted a new friend.” You laugh and turn in his arms to watch Penelope and said new friend, Willard. Aaron’s not shy in pulling your back into his chest. You willingly lean back into his chest.

Aaron follows your gaze as he watches an older man, white hair with a big cowboy hat and boots spin Penelope around. It’s all just fun, nothing serious.

“You know, I’d like to see you in a cowboy hat. Bet you’d look real good.” You state.

“Me? In a big hat like that?” He chuckles. “I don’t think so.”

“No? Maybe those dark blue jeans I like on you but no shirt.”

“You want me to be a shirtless cowboy? That’s way too out of character for me.”

“What if you wear a flannel but not an undershirt? You can keep some of your modesty while keeping me satisfied.” You pull his arms around your stomach and run your fingertips through his arm hair. Yes, he decided to wear a short sleeve shirt to the bar just for you because you told him he has “delicious arms.”

“That sounds like a reasonable compromise.” He whispers into your ear.

“If I could persuade you to wear all that, can I persuade you into a dance with me?” You turn back to him, giving him the best puppy eyes you can with the tips Jack gave you. Jack swore that if you pout your bottom lip just a smidge and force a bit of tears in your eyes, Aaron gives in immediately.

“Only if you do that move Penelope did before.”

“Aaron!” You gasp. “I didn’t know you could be so dirty!”

“You have your fantasies and I have mine.” He winks before taking the lead to pull you onto the dance floor.

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for derpsheep behind the cut; “a fake cryptid and a real romantic”. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Tim is having a terrible night, by which he means the Batman is currently looming over him like a creepy eldritch nightmare of a gargoyle while he’s trying to go meet Superboy for the patrol/hunting-date they scheduled and the Batman is not at all taking the “go away, I have a date” hint. 

Said “hint” for the record, was Tim explicitly saying the words, “go away, I have a date”. The Batman apparently thought that meant Calendar Man was causing trouble, though, so now Tim’s being Bat-stalked and has the Batman in his shadow, which is just really, really embarrassing in this situation. Like getting dropped off for a date by your weird neighbor who used to babysit you sometimes or something, he doesn’t know. 

Definitely embarrassing, yeah. Just–way too many kinds of embarrassing. He bets Superman isn’t dropping Superboy off right now. 

Ugh.

“Look, I promise, this is not a ‘Bat’ thing,” he says. “In no way whatsoever is this in fact a Bat thing.” 

leaving Gotham? the Batman asks. 

“No,” Tim says with a sigh, because he knows the Batman’s answer to them not leaving Gotham is gonna be– 

Bat thing, the Batman says, inexorable and inarguable as a snapped grapple and the force of gravity. 

Tim suffers.

“It’s just a date, B,” he says in exasperation. “I don’t follow you to go see Catwoman or Talia al Ghul, do I?” 

you do, the Batman says. 

. . . dammit, Tim thinks. The Batman wasn’t supposed to notice that. 

“Okay but Superboy is not a criminal who’s trying to use me to case a place for a thematic jewel heist!” he protests, puffing up Robin’s feathers indignantly. Most of the time the Batman understands Robin’s body language better than anything, really, and Tim has to admit there is something sort of satisfying about being able to flare up to twice his size when he’s irritated. At least on some level, anyway. “Or an assassin who might wanna feed me to her evil dad’s weird magic pit!” 

not feed, the Batman says. awaken. 

“That answer is no less creepy and unnerving than the last four times, I hope you know,” Tim tells him. “Not in the least because you’ve never clarified if the League is trying to awaken something in you or something in the pit.” 

“Tt,” the Batman says, which is honestly even more creepy and unnerving, given how rarely he actually makes actual noises. Or, like–correction: makes actual noises that sound, like–human, almost. The screeching and wailing and screaming is all pretty standard, but human noises . . . yeah, no. 

Tim already doesn’t like to talk to the Batman when he’s in his “human” aspect as it is. He isn’t some self-absorbed socialite or smarmy politician or shallow asshole with no genuine interest in other people, is the thing; when the Batman actually uses his voice, Tim can hear what that voice actually sounds like. 

As far as Tim knows, when it comes to humans, literally only Dick’s ever been able to stand the actual sound of the Batman’s voice. Jason apparently just, like–could grit his teeth through it, or hide behind Pennyworth. Tim, personally, forgets he has teeth, when he can actually hear the sound of the Batman’s voice. He doesn’t even know what Selina hears, but he does know she does most of the talking when she and the Batman are out together. And he still feels bad for Superman, after the sister-city gala incident with Metropolis.

Definitely he still feels bad for Superman after that.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

I remember on ao3 you mentioned you wanted to post Stan and Ford reacting to readers death, I wanted to ask if you could share it please?<3

grief wears your name | Stan and Ford react to reader's death

Grief hits everyone differently and the Pines family is no exception. Old men arent supposed to outlive you

a/n: certainly! thank u for reminding me, tw: death

Stanley

you'd think that a man who’s been through as much as Stan Pines would’ve learned how to process grief by now. but the thing about Stan is, he doesn’t process it, not really. he pushes it down so deep that even he forgets it’s there, until it sneaks up and slams him flat on his ass.

fuck that, fuck everything, fuck this world

hell, he wasn’t supposed to outlive you. not you. not with all the shit he’d done to his body over the years, the cigarettes, the cheap booze, the sleepless nights every time he looked in the mirror. it was supposed to be him first. the old man with bad habits and a lifetime of regrets weighing him down. that was the deal, wasn’t it? you're too young, bright, stubborn, alive, you were supposed to outlast him. supposed to be there when his time came, rolling your eyes at his dramatics and holding his hand as he went. that’s how it was supposed to go, fucking fuck

he got the call from someone he didn’t recognize. a voice muttered words he couldn’t make sense of. your name. your fucking name. his ears rang, his head spun and his fingers gripped the receiver tightly

“what the fuck do you mean, gone?” the person on the other end tried to explain, but Stanley slammed the phone back onto the hook before they could finish. no. no.

you couldn’t be gone.

he saw you last week. he watched you smile at him across the counter, teasing him about his fez like you always did. he swore you winked at him before you left.

and now you were just. . . what? erased from existence?

grief had a way of making him ugly, uglier than he already saw himself. his hands shook as if he’d been drinking all night, but the bottle on the table was full and untouched. even the burn of whiskey couldn’t numb this, so what was the point?

Stanley thought about the kitten he’d brought home when he was ten. it was starving, ribs like piano keys beneath its dirty fur, the meows little animal let out were so pitiful. he'd sworn he’d take care of it, even made a little bed out of an old shoebox and named it tiger. he fed it milk behind his dad's back. tiger died three days later.

Stan felt useless, he couldn’t save anyone.

Stan hasn’t touched the fez since you died. it’s sitting there on the bedside table, gathering dust. you used to steal it all the time, yanking it off his head with a grin. “this thing’s ridiculous, Stan,” you’d tease, shoving it onto your head crookedly. “i’m the boss of scam now. bow to me.” and he always played along, rolling his eyes, calling you a pain in the ass, but you only laughed at that. that laughter was gone.

when Mabel asked him about you last night, he had to get up and leave the room because he wasn't ready for that. she was just a kid, trying to understand why the world was so unfair and he couldn’t give her an answer because he didn’t have one.

“grunkle Stan? do you think. . . do you think they’re still watching over us?” how could he tell her he didn’t believe in anything like that anymore? that you were just gone, snuffed out, like you’d never been here at all?

Mabel’s curled in his lap like she’s five again, clutching her sweater-covered arms around her knees, her face a swollen mess of tears and hiccupping sobs. her little voice is hoarse from crying and she tries to explain, through broken words, about the stupid sweater she’d been knitting for you. she just finished it. it was supposed to be a surprise. she was going to give it to you tomorrow.

Stan wraps his arms around her, calls her “pumpkin” in the softest voice he can manage, but it trembles. he squeezes his eyes shut so hard it makes his head hurt, he hopes if he can just keep them closed tight enough, none of this will be real. but it is. it fucking is. and he doesn’t know how to tell a twelve-year-old that the world is this fucking cruel. he doesn’t know how to admit he feels like that little boy again, the one with a kitten dying in his hands and nothing he could do to stop it.

he buries his face in Mabel’s brown hair and mutters some useless lie about how “it’s gonna be okay”

Mabel's face against his chest as she sobbed. Stan held her tighter.

“i made them a sweater, grunkle Stan. i-it’s pink with little stars and they- they said they'd wear it when it got cold,” her sobs swallowed the rest.

what could he say to that? what the hell could anyone say? “they loved your sweaters, kiddo. you know they did.” he wanted to picture you in that dumb pink sweater, smiling like you always did when you wanted to make Mabel feel special. but all he could see was you gone. gone. and nothing he could do would change it

Stanford

when he got the news about you, his meticulously constructed walls crumbled in an instant.

he sat at his desk, the journal open in front of him, its pages blurred by the tears he didn’t realize were falling. his hands shook as he gripped the pen, but the words just wouldn’t come.

he’d been taught from an early age that emotions were illogical. when he was younger, his father had told him to “quit being such a baby” after Ford cried over a broken model ship. that lesson had stuck

he locked himself in his study, the same place he’d last seen you. everything was still exactly where it had been. the chair you’d sat in. the pen you’d picked up and fiddled with while listening to him ramble. he’d always been embarrassed by how much he talked around you, because words came so easily when you were there.

the guilt was eating him from inside

was it his fault?

had he been too focused on his work, too distracted to notice that something was wrong? had he missed a chance to save you?

he needed answers. needed to know. what had happened? why had it happened?

he buried himself in research, poring over every detail of the accident or the incident, as he came to call it. his obsession grew, consuming him. he didn’t sleep. didn’t eat.

Stan found him one night, hunched over the desk, muttering to himself about alternate dimensions and cosmic energy. “Ford, this isn’t gonna bring them back.”

Ford didn’t respond because Stan was wrong.

Ford wasn’t trying to bring you back. he was trying to rewrite the universe so you’d never been gone in the first place

Dipper tries to talk to him one day, pulling at the hem of his vest clumsily. “grunkle Ford, is it okay to miss someone this much? like. . .this much that it hurts? my chest hurts.”

Stanford doesn’t know how to answer that. he doesn’t know how to explain the way grief wraps itself around your lungs and makes it impossible to breathe. “it is, Mason, it means they mattered.”

Dipper doesn’t see how Ford presses his hands to his temples when he leaves.

Ford’s always been good at pretending he’s fine.

Ford’s grief was quieter, but no less consuming. the guilt, the helplessness, the horrible emptiness that stretched wider every time he thought about how he’d failed to protect you.

he couldn’t stop thinking about all the times you’d parodied him, mimicking the way he pushed his glasses up his nose or how he’d say “actually” before correcting someone. “actually, Stanford Pines, you’re so predictable,” you’d giggle, tapping the bridge of your nose in a mocking gesture

you used to drive him insane with it, in good way. his face would flush, his words would stumble, and he’d act all huffy while secretly loving every second. he never told you how much he adored the way you made fun of him

he found one of your notebooks the other day. it was tucked under a pile of his old research papers, pages scrawled with your handwriting. you’d doodled little caricatures of him in the margins, stick-figure versions of Ford with six fingers and exaggerated glasses, accompanied by sarcastic captions like, “the nerdiest but prettiest man i ever knew”

he stared at those drawings until his vision blurred from tears. then he shoved the notebook in a drawer and locked it.

...

Ford disappears the next morning.

he knows it’s selfish, leaving Stan and the kids to deal with all of this without him, a part of family, but he can’t be in that house another second. the walls are suffocating. so he grabbed his coat, your coat, the one you used to borrow when you’d say his was warmer and walked, his feet already knew where they’re going.

the woods. the same path you always loved, where the sunlight filtered through the trees beautifully, where you used to point out birds or mushrooms or anything that caught your curious eye. you’d tug on his sleeve to make him stop and look. and god, you were so beautiful when you smiled at him like that. Ford adored you.

Ford doesn’t remember sitting down in the clearing where you used to spend time together, his knees in the dirt, fists clenched in the grass. he hadn’t cried when he found out, hadn’t even let himself feel it because there were too many faces looking at him like he was supposed to have answers. now there’s nothing but the woods, only memory of you and the sound of his own ragged breathing breaking into loud sobs

Ford cries like a child. raw, aching grief pouring out of him in waves, making his glasses fog up, slipping down his nose and he doesn’t bother fixing them. his body doesn’t know how to process this kind of pain. his hands too busy clawing at the ground, hoping he could dig deep enough to find you again.

Ford Pines, the man who always thought he could think his way out of anything, is completely unmade.

he doesn’t know how long he sits there, crumpled against the base of a tree. his hands tremble as he takes the notebook out of his coat pocket, the one he used to write down little things you’d say or do that he didn’t want to forget. he flips through it now, pages ruined with his tears and it hurts worse than anything else. your handwriting’s there, little notes you’d leave for him.

“don’t forget your glasses!”

“your hair looks cute today <3”

“i love you, Ford.”

he shuts the notebook and presses it to his chest, it's the only part of you he has left.

the stars above didn’t care. the trees didn’t care. the world kept turning, indifferent to the fact that you’d been torn from it.

and Ford was left there in the cold void, feeling smaller than he ever had in his life.

[distant-velleity]

LMAO i lied im answering all these at once. woohoo!

(warning for VERY unreliable narration in certain questions)

1. Does your OC have parents or family in the AU? If not, what is their current living situation?

“That’s kind of personal, isn’t it? Well, good thing you asked me, the most normal person here. Kidding, kidding.”

Yuhua lives with his parents right now. His sister, an alumnus of the school, is away at university. They are a perfectly happy family. There is nothing wrong. Nothing. 

(Yuhua lives with an emotionally manipulative mother and conservative father, and returns to a dysfunctional household that is filled with silence, phone calls, or arguments every day. Of course, he would never admit any of this to anyone but his friends, and even then nothing more than a slight hint or complaint that tells nothing of the bigger picture. Yuhua himself is not in the best mental state as a result, due to placing pressure on himself to perform well so his parents don’t get on his case, and he maintains a thin thread of control on his demeanor.)

2. What are their thoughts on Quartz?

“She looks kind of lonely… I feel bad. No wonder she’s so into… Oops! That’s not my thing to tell. But I do think she could benefit from some friends.”

The quote is probably self-explanatory of what he thinks (assuming he hasn’t caught her doing anything suspicious, and has only ever seen her pretend to fawn over Azul). He recognizes that she’s always alone, but he’s also like. World’s worst introvert trying to masquerade as world’s worst extrovert, so… he hasn’t (yet) taken any steps to make the first move and interact with her. It probably doesn’t help that it looks like neither of them bother with more than small talk with others.

3. What is their thoughts and relationship with Azul? How did they meet Azul?

“That guy? …Doesn’t it seem like he’s suddenly got a lot of admirers nowadays? I mean, I can see the appeal—hardworking, intelligent… But I don’t think I could ever date anyone on the student council. Guess those guys can shoot their shots if they want.”

If you couldn’t tell from the quote, he… thinks middlingly of Azul, and has like 0 romantic interest in him at all lol. Of course, Yuhua respects anyone with good grades and good conduct, of which Azul meets all the criteria, but that’s it. I wouldn’t say he ever met Azul so much as he’s heard of him (what with being in the same year and Azul being on the student council), and seen him around. 

4. What are their relationships with other characters/OCs?

About Floyd:

“...That guy. There’s no point in associating myself with him.”

(if this is okay) They’ve been in the same class for two years in a row now, purely by chance. Yuhua knows him as the careless, genius lackey of Azul. His disorderly and sometimes disrespectful conduct only grates Yuhua when there’s something that needs to be done, but otherwise Yuhua would be content to let him live his life and let their paths never cross. Even that one time he went into the gym after club activities to practice his lines and saw Floyd practicing his basketball skills non-stop—Even when Floyd puts in the work to pass a test almost effortlessly, then decides the next one isn’t worth the nonexistent effort—Even when Floyd is free to do whatever he wants, his actions and comments constantly broadening Yuhua’s restricted worldview—Even… when…

…even when Yuhua’s nursing something of a hopeless, helpless crush on him. And that’s it. It’s no fairytale love, it’s no novel-worthy romance. It’ll never take flight—Yuhua will take this secret with him to the grave because of that. He knows he’s not enough to catch and keep Floyd’s attention; at most he’s just a classmate who Floyd thinks it’s funny to talk to and annoy sometimes because he tries to look like a goody-two-shoes in a less angry way than Riddle.

“It’s not a crush, because I won’t get that crushing disappointment when he finds out and is disgusted by my very existence.”

About Vizzie ( @twistedwonderlandshenanigans ):

“...She’s got a good heart.”

They’re… friends. Acquaintances. Something. Does he really know how to define it? Now that Vizzie doesn’t care as much about her grades and Yuhua’s just went on to prioritize himself, or something, what was probably a friendship has… not stayed a friendship. He goes on with his reputation-building act, while she does her own thing. Yeah. Yeah—He’s fine with it. It’s what they both want, and he’s not going to interfere with her choices. It’s fine. Right? (He doesn’t want to think about it.)

It definitely doesn’t bother him that now that she’s “fallen off” and protected herself with a poor reputation, she seems… more free. It ABSOLUTELY does not bother him that she’s such easy “friends” with Floyd. It doesn’t bother him that unlike with Floyd, everything about Vizzie’s day-to-day existence and circumstances proves that something is inherently wrong with Yuhua himself. It doesn’t bother him that her everything proves that everything about him, from personality to looks to grades, is inferior and unlikeable. It doesn’t bother him that, because she’s so closed-off now, the unspoken truth is that he wasn’t enough for something like an actual friendship. It. Doesn’t. Bother. Him. 

About Riddle:

“...Oh, that guy.”

Sure, he can respect someone like Riddle. Someone who’s at the top of their class, is on the student council—Yeah, sure, whatever. It’s because of people like him that Yuhua doesn’t try too hard, anyway. It just isn’t fun. It’s not worth his time, to be constantly outclassed. And his attitude, too—part of the reason Yuhua would never run for student council. If he was aware of Riddle’s situation, he’d be more sympathetic, but as things are he just can’t quite stand Riddle’s attitude. 

Let overachievers have their fun, is Yuhua’s opinion. He’s fine to be a middling fish in a small pond while people like Riddle try to be big fish. They’re fellow second-years, but that doesn’t mean they have to care about each other. They probably don’t interact much on a meaningful level because of Riddle’s duties and Yuhua’s opinions, and if they do—it’s Yuhua being polite and saying all the things Riddle wants to hear.

(if you’re willing to establish OC dynamics, let me know and I can add Yuhua’s thoughts here! I just don’t like to add/conceptualize dynamics with canon characters because I’m scared of stepping on toes abkjsdkfgjskfd)

5. What grade/year is your OC?

“I’m part of the worst year, in case you’re wondering. Hehe. Just kidding.”

Aging him up by just one year for this AU— He’s 17, a second-year. 

6. What is your OCs goal for the school year or in life?

“Goals? Eh… Passing this year with the best grades I can get.”

He doesn’t have any true goals, and it makes him anxious. His main objective is just… passing the school year, staying on good terms with everyone… That’s it. It’s all very short-term, school-related. He doesn’t have enough faith in himself to actually achieve a long-term life goal.

“As for life? Ask me again in, like… a year.” 

7. Your OC is being framed for murder of another student by Quartz, how does your OC react to that? Does your OC know it's Quartz?

“...What? This is ridiculous. Do you just accept any kind of evidence nowadays? …No. Don’t answer that. Sorry. But I know I’m innocent.”

Yuhua is counting on others to vouch for him, both for an alibi and for his character; it’s situations like these that are the reason why he’s so intent on networking and maintaining good relationships with everyone. Knowing that his future and record are on the line, he’s absolutely going to plead his case however he can, trying to argue about the evidence, et cetera…

“Isn’t there anyone else who could have been responsible? In fact…”

If he’s ever caught Quartz doing something suspicious, he’s definitely throwing her under the bus now. If people grill him for not reporting it right away, well…

“I was just—scared at the time, you know? I didn’t know what she was going to do to me if I tattled… I’m really sorry, but what matters is that I’m the one telling the truth now.”

This might be one of the rare situations where people see him genuinely lose the easygoing act.

8. Your OC notices Quartz carrying a weapon in her skirt pocket. That's strange since the female school uniforms don't have skirt pockets. Does your OC report this?

“Huh? Pockets? What pockets? I didn’t see anything.”

He’ll turn a blind eye, unless there’s a situation wherein he can actually benefit from reporting her. 

“In any case… It’s not my business right now. Let people do what people want as long as it doesn’t affect me, yeah?”

9. Where is your OC usually with or at during school? Classes? With Azul? Skipping class? Where do they eat lunch?

“Come on, don’t ask me questions like that. I’m only ever where I should be.”

Yuhua always goes to class, and always shows up on time. He has people he can’t disappoint, even himself. When he’s not in class, he’s (usually) in the drama club room; before classes start for the day, at lunch, and so on.  

10. How are your OC's grades?

“Passable.”

He gets pretty good grades. I wouldn’t say he’s necessarily competitive, nor at the very top of his class, but he tries to stay above “average.” He’s got a natural edge to memorizing and regurgitating information, so getting good grades isn’t hard for him, but… you know. If he tried a little harder…

(No Yan Sim AU) Questions for OCs! + Quartz and other characters' lore

You don't have to do these if you don't want to! You can write and answer how ever you want (3rd person or as the OC)

These answers are just examples and they also give lore to other TWST characters in the AU

1. Does your OC have parents or family in the AU? If not, what is their current living situation?

Riddle currently lives with his mother. Because of her influence, he is the strictest in the student council (which consists of the dormleaders.)

2. What are their thoughts on Quartz?

[You can yap about it here since I already used Quartz as an example in the fourth question]

3. What is their thoughts and relationship with Azul? How did they meet Azul?

Jade is Azul's right hand man. He assists Azul with a lot of student council work and is mostly by his side with Floyd. They are friends from their middle school days and up to their highschool days (although the three of them won't admit it).

Jade found Azul's hardwork and scheming nature very exciting so he and his brother always stayed by Azul's side to see what fun events would happen.

4. What are their relationships with other characters/OCs?

[They are speaking about Quartz as example]

Floyd: "Who again?"

Floyd doesn't really acknowledge Quartz since she's so quick out of his sights. Genuinely believes there isn't a person named that but is suspicious.

Jade: "Oh, that shy girl? She's a little funny."

Definitely suspicious of Quartz but they don't interact much so he has no other information about her. He probably needs to be more skillful when studying her.

Riddle: "Quartz?.. Uh.. I-I don't recall who that is."

Quartz rarely interacts with Riddle.

Ace: "Ah? You mean that girl who's always so weird? I've seen her watch Azul. Pffftt! Do you think she likes him?"

He notices her sometimes because he thinks her appearance is a little flashy.

Idia: "I-Isn't she one of Azul's admirers?... She's the shy type right? She's a little strange though.. Sometimes she takes photos of me! W-Wait.. Maybe she's into me instead?! EEEKK!! H-HOW SCARY!!"

Completely misunderstands Quartz's actions but he's quick to know how weird her actions are. He stays away from her if Azul isn't present.

5. What grade/year is your OC?

Azul, Jade, and Floyd are all 2nd years (17).

Leona has been held back so he is still 20.

6. What is your OCs goal for the school year or in life?

Quartz wishes to kill Azul 🙏

7. Your OC is being framed for murder of another student by Quartz, how does your OC react to that? Does your OC know it's Quartz?

Floyd is jumping her.

8. Your OC notices Quartz carrying a weapon in her skirt pocket. That's strange since the female school uniforms don't have skirt pockets. Does your OC report this?

Riddle is absolutely reporting that! He's calling the cops and everything 🫡🫡🫡

9. Where is your OC usually with or at during school? Classes? With Azul? Skipping class? Where do they eat lunch?

Quartz is always in class but she'll come right before the bell rings since she was.. busy. She doesn't have a particular place she goes to all the time. She's never in one spot.

Quartz's lunch spot varies because she's always spying but her usual spot is in the courtyard.

Riddle is assigned being a hall monitor so he usually watches the halls when he is able to. He usually eats lunch with Trey and Cater.

Leona is always found napping under trees and skipping his classes. Ruggie manages to find him and give him his lunch from the cafeteria.

Rook is watching you.

10. How are your OC's grades?

Deuce tries, ok. (Awful)

[yall-batman-fanfic]

The Wrath of Wayne | Bruce Wayne/Batman x OC!Magician [Part 2/3]

Synopsis: Trapped. Both Vivian and Bruce are trapped in the scheme made by Thomas Wayne. This was a threat they have never dealt with before and unlike before this has higher stakes with Valerie’s life in the hands of Thomas Wayne.

Valerie finally stopped crying but she won’t smile. The girl kept pouting even when she was surrounded by her toys, even when Alfred would keep her company with warm milk in her sippy, even when she had Ace and Echo with her… even when her mother was in her line of sight. 

How could she smile? This man, this Batman was keeping her from her mother. This man who calls himself her grandfather would try to feed her with mushed food and try to play with her like everything was okay. 

The first time he tried to play with her, Valerie cried and clung to Alfred, calling him, “Gampa! Gampa!” 

“Ms. Valerie,” Alfred tried to hush her cries, in fear that seeing her cling to him and calling him that would anger Thomas Wayne more. 

“It’s alright, Alfred,” Thomas sighed, giving up for the day and handing him Valerie’s meal. “I’m glad she had you for a grandfather here. She’s in good hands.”

“She misses her mother, Master,” said Alfred.

A pause. Thomas thought for a moment before saying: “I’ll make arrangements for her to see Vivian. But she cannot leave the dome nor can Val be there with her.”

A compromise, this was better than Vivian constantly begging him to let her see her daughter. She might not be his in this world but he still cared. If not as a man who loved her then as an in-law. 

He personally brought Valerie’s crib to the library so she can be with her mother. First the crib, then her toys, mountains of them, some Vivian knew were not even from Valerie’s room but from the store. Thomas Wayne have taken all of those for Valerie. Day and night, Valerie would look at her mother who was trapped in that glass dome, sitting there, trying to talk to her and get her to smile but to no avail. Valerie, as young as she was, knew that something was wrong.

Something bad was happening.

Where was her Dada? Why hasn’t he come to save them? 

Dada would always be there to save them.

When Valerie finally grew tired, Thomas Wayne laid her down on the crib and tucked her in, letting her sleep. But he did not leave. He stayed there, sitting on the chair beside the crib, in front of the dome, and watched as his granddaughter slept. 

“She reminds me of Bruce when he was her age,” said Thomas. “When he was a boy, I made a vow to protect him from anything that would do him harm… and I failed.”

“Where is Bruce?” Vivian asked in a whisper, tired from her many attempts of escape. She can’t get out, she can’t even call for her father, Dream, to save her. “What did you do to him?”

Thomas was silent for a time, contemplating, he tends to do that, then he spoke: “when Bruce was a boy, he would always ask me to read to him a story. It was The Animals and the Pit by Alexander Nikolaevich Afanasyev. Do you know that?” 

His Vivian did.

“Yes, I do,” Vivian answered.

It seems she does too.

Sitting up, Vivian looked at her bloody and bandaged hands and continued: “It’s a Russian Folktale that follows a group of animals traveling together who encounter a large pit. All the animals end up stranded in the pit, and in an attempt to survive longer, they devise trivial competitions in which the loser is eaten by the rest. Eventually, the fox is the last animal alive, tricking the pig into eating itself, and the story ends with an unanswered question: does the fox ever escape the pit?”

“Word for word,” Thomas smiled. “Did Bruce tell you that?”

“He did, but I read it when I was in high school… I found a connection to it right after my mother’s death. If this whole narrative you’re doing is some sort of poetic thing to relate to the story then you’re missing the damn point.”

“And that is?”

“Bruce has gone out of that pit a long time ago. The both of us did. We pulled each other out of that pit. There were those we hurt, who we lost in that pit but we got out.”

“Then why continue being Batman?” Thomas got up and marched up to her, stepping into the circle to tower over her. “Why not stop him?” He hit the glass. “You left me when I won’t stop.”

So, in that universe. In his world, Thomas Wayne had Vivian Pryor. It brought an unsettling chill down her spine to learn that. 

“Maybe because she wanted to get out of that pit, and she can’t if she clings to you,” Vivian answered.

“You died the moment you stepped out of those doors. Car accident.”

She and her mother died in a car accident.

“Your Vivian—the Vivian from your world—were you both…”

“No,” he answered immediately. “I won’t that happen. And it was a mistake. I am glad that in this world you and Bruce found each other. I saw how much my son loves you, Vivian Pryor, if only the Vivian from my world had someone to give her that. Then she wouldn’t have fallen into that tragedy.”

Valerie whimpered in her sleep. Before Alfred could get to her, Thomas Wayne picked up his granddaughter from the crib and lulled her back to sleep. Valerie, still frowning, slept again.

“What’s the goal, Thomas?” Vivian asked. 

“I want Bruce to stop being Batman. I want this to stop, for him to be happy with his family. For us to be a family.”

“You can’t erase whatever happened in that pit,” Vivian argued. “You can’t act as if none of it happened, that none of this happened. Bruce will never submit to you,” Vivian placed her bloody palm on the glass. “He will never let this happen.”

“I know. He is a Wayne. And Waynes rise… if he won’t submit willingly, then I shall break him to submission. Once he comes to, I will take my son and we will go on a journey to bring back the happiness of this home, and by the time we return—the three of us—I hope you, Valerie, Alfred, and your children have come to accept this reality.”

“The three of you?” Vivian asked, but then her gaze went to the family portrait of Thomas, Martha, and young Bruce. “Oh, god… god no! No! What you’re doing is sacrilege! You can’t! She doesn’t deserve this!”

“Martha didn’t deserve to die in that alleyway. Neither did Bruce… and she did not deserve what happened to her in my world… hush now, Vivian, or you’ll wake the baby.”

~ * ~

Bruce woke from the eternal nightmares that his father had placed him in. He was tired but he was pissed. He will get Bane, Falcone, and Thomas Wayne, but for now he needs rest. He needed to recover before going after them, he can’t make a mistake. Not with Vivian and Valerie’s lives on the line. 

He battled his way through Arkham, beating every enemy he faced and leaving them bloody and broken on the floors of Arkham, but for one. Harvey Dent. Two-Face. Two-Face will be his messenger. 

“Tell them,” he said to Dent. “Tell him that I will come for him. But I’m tired, so I’m going home. But once I’ve recovered, I will come, and he will pay for what he did to the mother and daughter he is holding hostage. Do you understand?”

When Dent didn’t answer, Two Face tried to say something but one punch from Batman and the man was dizzy.

“I was talking to Dent. Do you understand?” 

Dent spat out blood and said, “I understand.”

In the Batcave, Bruce slumped in his chair, tired, so tired. All he wanted was to go to Vivian but he couldn't. She’s held captive in a glass dome that was keeping her from using her magic, and his daughter was held hostage by his own father. No, that man wasn’t his father. His father was dead, this Thomas Wayne was from another dimension.

He needed rest to get them out. But to do that, he also needed reinforcements but none of his Robins were responding to his calls. As if they were cut off from him. Maybe they were still busy with handling the chaos that Falcone started in Gotham.

INTRUDER ALERT!

Sighing, Bruce reluctantly wore his cowl and followed the signal to where the alarm was sounded. It brought him to the dining room where Falcone sat at the head of the table, and standing at his side was his father, Thomas Wayne.

“Benvenuti,” Carmine Falcone mocked him. “Who would have thought the Batman was Bruce Wayne… or maybe I should have known too.”

Bruce kept silent and glared at Falcone, and at Thomas Wayne.

“It seems, it’s not just us who find this whole Batman gig a headache too, even the old man-” he laughed “--he crawled out of the grave just to put a stop to this. What do you say, Brucie? Had enough?”

He remains silent.

“Take a seat, son,” Falcone gestured to the many seats at the table. The seats that would always be filled by the members of his family.

“My girls,” Batman demanded. 

Falcone smirked. “Of course. Follow us.”

He did what Falcone said and followed, his father right at his tail as they went to the library. The first he saw was his daughter, sitting on the carpeted floor, playing with her dolls while having a frown on her face, then the person she was playing those dolls with. 

Bane.

The sight of his enemy triggered a fight or flight in Bruce but before he could engage he saw Vivian. Trapped in a glass dome inside a circle that kept her from using magic. When she saw him, Vivian got on her knees and pressed her bloody and bandaged hands on the glass, and she shook her head. 

Don’t attack.

Not when their daughter was at the mercy of a man who can easily crush her with one punch.

So he didn’t.

“Dada!” Valerie called for him, she was about to reach for her as his daughter got on her feet to get to him but Bane took the girl from the ground.

Bruce and Vivian froze at that.

Valerie whimpered in Bane’s arms and she tried her hardest to get to her father and then she started crying.

“Look at that — stop it, you’re scaring the bambina!’ Falcone said. “Come here, sweetheart,” he went to the girl and took her from Bane. “It’s alright, you wanna see Mommy?”

“Dada!” Valerie cried. “Mumma! Dada!”

“Come on, go see Mommy,” Falcone brought her to the glass so she can be close to Vivian. “Daddy can’t play with you right now because he’s in big trouble.”

“Val, it’s okay,” Vivian swallowed her sob. “Please, just give her to Alfred. She’s had enough, hand her to Alfred so she can rest. Please!”

“Look at that. A Wayne begging on her knees to a Falcone. Never thought I’d see that in my lifetime.”

“Carmine,” Thomas spoke with a threatening tone.

“Alright, alright!” Falcone took the girl from the circle and handed her to Thomas, who then called for Alfred so the butler could take her to the nursery. Away from the confrontation. With Valerie gone, they can now move easily. “Kids… I have a couple of my own, they’re my greatest treasure.”

Batman and Vivian disagree. They know the truth about the relationship between Carmine and his children. He was not winning “father of the year”.

Turning to Bane, Batman glared at him and sneered, “I’m going to break your back.”

Bane smirked.

“Did you do that to her?” He questioned Falcone.

“Oh this?” Carmine knocked on the glass. “No, that’s your old man’s doing. And that,” he pointed to Vivian’s bloody hands. “That’s all her.”

“Enjoy this while it lasts,” Batman said. “Because once I’m through with him,” he pointed at Bane. “You’re next.”

“I’d choose your opponents well, son,” Falcone shoved his hands in his pockets.

Before he could register what was happening, Bane ran up to Batman, tackling him to the ground. Bruce, quick on his feet, got up and kneed Bane at the face, giving him time to get out of the hulking man’s grasp. He then punched Bane across the face before he could recover, and again, and again, harder than the last. Then he grabbed Bane by his shirt and headbutted him hard. 

Bane fell to the ground.

He should have known better that Bane wouldn’t stay down, but Bruce’s mind was clouded. He was exhausted after those nightmares and he was furious to see his daughter and wife prisoners in their own home. He went straight to Falcone.

“Hold on!” Falcone backed up at the glass. “I said, hold it!”

“BRUCE!” Vivian hit the glass, trying to warn him. “BEHIND YOU!”

Too late. Bane grabbed Batman by his cape and threw him across the room, smashing him at the family portrait of him and his parents. Bane didn’t give him time to recover and kept thrashing him around like a ragdoll, destroying everything in the room. But Bane was smart enough to not bring the damage to where the circle and the glass were. They knew if she got out, they had hell to pay.

Turning to Thomas Wayne, Vivian hit her fists at the glass to catch his attention. “STOP THIS! HE’S YOUR SON! STOP IT! MAKE THEM STOP! PLEASE!” She begged the man.

Thomas turned to her and said: “I told you. We will break him into submission.”

She watched in horror as Bane lifted Bruce from the ground, holding him up in the air and drove his back down to his knee. The last that Bruce heard was the sound of Vivian crying out to him.

~*~

Helplessness. That was what the Robins felt as they stood atop of Wayne Tower, overlooking Gotham as Falcone’s men led this anarchistic dystopia.  They can’t do anything but stand there. They can’t save Gotham, and they can’t save Vivian and Valerie.

Bane made it clear, if they come close to Wayne Manor, he will crush Valerie with his bare hands, then Vivian.

They can’t take that risk. 

Even Damian knew best to not test Bane. Not when it was his mother and sister, and Alfred in the line. So, what? What can they do?

What they do best, they guess. They try to save Gotham. Right now, all they can do was stop Falcone’s men. To help the GCPD get back control on the city, and to do that they’ll need to get Commissioner Gordon out of the cell he was in at Black Gate and replace the current Commissioner that Falcone put up there. Arnold Wesker. 

Easy.

They already know where Scarface was.

~ * ~

“VIVIAN!” Bruce shot up awake from days of sleep. Knocked out was the right term. But as he opened his eyes, it wasn’t the library that he saw nor one of the rooms in the Manor. It was the vast night sky littered with stars. Sand under him, and the dryness of the desert air. 

“It’s alright,” Thomas Wayne placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. “You’ve been through a lot, just remember what you’ve been taught.”

“You!” Bruce threw his tied up hands at his father to hit him, but Thomasa blocked it with his arm, then punched him back to the ground.

“It’s okay. You can be scared, it just means you have to fight back that fear.”

“You,” Bruce spat out the blood from his mouth. “You did all of this… you took my daughter, your own granddaughter, hostage, and you placed Vivian, my wife, in a cage!”

It would take time for him to get used to the fact that Vivian was Bruce’s in this dimension. He just hopes that by the end of this journey the mention of her name no longer places the image of her lying beside him in his bed. That needed to end if he wanted this plan to be successful. If he wanted them to be this happy family he dreamed of. 

It needs to succeed. He has done all of this – the killing, the betrayal, the hurt he’s placed on Vivian and Valerie. 

So it better succeed.

Facing his son, Thomas said to him: “You have been defeated. Broken, body and soul, that’s behind you. It’s time to rebuild. There’s nothing to worry about, not anymore. Father’s got you.”

Bruce sneered at him and said: “Why?” 

“You will learn soon enough.”

As the sun rose, Bruce was helped by Thomas to get on the horse while his father pulled them along, dragging with them the casket behind them. As they rode down the dunes, Thomas explained to Bruce that he put back his spine so they could go through this journey, the both of them. When asked where they were, Thomas gave the answer, and when asked why, he replied: “You’re the world’s greatest detective, when the drug wears off, you’ll understand.” When asked about the coffin, Thomas said: “You’ll understand soon.”

They rode for days, and on occasion they would be attacked by ninjas in the desert. The closer and closer they are to the destination, Bruce finally recognizes a couple of things in their travels. “Those ninjas are Ras al Ghul’s guards, that means we’re getting closer to the Pit.”

Thomas laughed. “You’re getting it now. I’m still proud of you, my boy.”

Then it hit him. The coffin!

Turning to the sight of the coffin their horse dragged, Bruce exclaimed in horror, “That’s mother’s coffin.”

Thomas halted their horse and turned to him. “We’re almost there. We’ve bled, we’ve burnt,  we’ve earned our rest. And we have earned our right to go home, and once we do we will go back as a family.”

“Where is it?” Bruce asked him.

Thomas pointed to the satchel, and from there Bruce pulled out his cowl and wore it over his head. 

They pushed through.

“I remember the blood, the pearls. Knowing I will never see you again, I forfeited my life and surrendered to a vow, and where did it get me?”

Thomas laughed. “You made your choices, you saved who you could and more, and while doing so you rebuilt. You started your own family. You’re lucky now that it still stands firm even with that cowl as the foundation of your life… I am proud of you, son, but after this it’s time we rebuilt. It’s time we see this through.”

Their journey went on and more ninjas came. In the last wave before the Pit, Thomas killed every one of the ninjas but for one. He’ll be needing that for the Pit. Later that night, they stood before the Pit.

“How did Mother go in your world?” Bruce asked.

“She didn’t die easily. Not important, we’re here, and soon she as well. We will be a family again, Bruce —-”

He shouldn’t ask but he couldn’t help but wonder. “And Vivian? Do you know her there as well?”

Thomas  paused from dismounting his horse then sighed. “I did. Know this son, I am only telling you so we can start anew.  No secrets will be between us…” he was wrong to ask. “In my world, Vivian and I are familiar with each other. She was an important person to me…”

Bruce’s hold on his reigns tightened. But no. Not now, not when they were so close.

“What happened to her there?”

“She left me because I refuse to stop, and as soon as she did, she died in a car accident. Now, understand, I hold no feelings for your wife. I am telling you this now because you asked and because I want a clean slate for us all. Once we return, the three of us, we can be a family. You will have your Vivian, and I shall have Martha again.”

That wasn’t enough. Not for Bruce.

Descending to the pit, Thomas and Bruce carefully brought down the coffin and the ninja. In the Pit, Thomas took the flare from the ground, and turned to his son whose rage he’s been feeling since telling him about the Vivian from his world. 

“I needed you at a low point. To be broken. After Bane, after the nightmare, and after seeing the helplessness to not save her. We have a way out. You can have the love and happiness that you deserve. You can have what we’ve lost. We can be a family, Bruce! We can live happily without the cape!”

Bruce paused and said, “The book I would always ask you to read. The reason why I liked it so much is because I hoped the ending might change. Then, like those animals who fell in, I had no way out. I was in that dark pit with no idea of getting out… then she came, some one as broken as I, and she lit up the way and showed me the way out.. We pulled each other out of that pit. And believe it or not but I am happy. We are happy. You never really understood Vivian. You think the Vivian from your world left you because of the cape? She left you because of what you do with it. But the Vivian here. My Vivian understands, and she has accepted me as both Bruce Wayne and Batman!” 

He threw a punch at his father, and Thomas was quick to return the favor. The father and son battled it out in the Pit, both battling for their beliefs and their hope. Both fighting in hopes of getting out of that Pit and return to their family. As they fought, Batman threw his father against the coffin and from it stones poured out, revealing the last secret that kept them from a fresh start.

“No,” Thomas said. “What have you done? When?”

“While you were sleeping. Mother is buried in the desert where you can never find her.”

“Why?”

“I wasn’t sure if I can best you, but here I knew I could hurt you!”

“We broke you!” Thomas punched him across the face. “I broke you! You can never be Batman! All you can be is my son!” Punch. “To be a father!” Kick “A husband!” Punch “You can never be Batman!”

~ * ~

Wesker came to her cage, opened the panel at the back so he could change the bandages around her hands. Vivian watched as the Ventriloquist did his work. How long has it been since she was placed in this dome? How long since Bruce was taken by his father after Bane broke his back? How long since she last held her daughter.

Thomas Wayne has returned but he said nothing about Bruce.

“Wekser,” she spoke. “Please… let me see my daughter.”

“I-I-It’s n-n-n-not m-m-my d-d-decision t-tt-to m-make,” he replied.

“Please, let me see her. I can’t remember the last time I held her.”

“Ventriloquist,” Thomas Wayne appeared at the door of the library. “Leave us.”

Wesker was quick and clumsy as he left. He didn’t even bother to close the panel of her cage. But it didn’t matter if he didn’t, Thomas Wayne took Wesker’s place at the stood and finished the work in cleaning her wounds. She was in need on stitches which Thomas look into before she left, then he assigned Wesker and Alfred to look after her and make sure to change the bandages everyday.

Fractured knuckles, he  told her when he fixed her hand, but nothing he can’t take care. In a couple of weeks she'll be back to normal. 

As a reply she told him, if she had her magic she’ll be healed now.

“Valerie’s fine. She’s with Alfred. She prefers his company,” said Thomas.

“Alfred is her grandfather,” Vivian told him.

Thomas sighed. “That he is. But she will learn who her grandfather really is. Children are flexible. They’re like clay that we can easily mold to what we want them to be.”

“You’re wrong… children are not some clay or canvas that you can turn to whatever you want them to be. They’re their own persons. Valerie is young, and yes, she learns from us but she will have her own thoughts. Her own dreams. But now, she depends on us. So, please, let me be with her.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Please!” Vivian begged. “What do I need to do so I can be with her? I want to hold my daughter! I haven’t seen her since yesterday! I haven’t seen my children for weeks now, and I don’t know where they are or how they are! And my husband! You broke him and you took him from me! At least let me have my daughter before I go into insanity!”

Thomas’ hand shot out quick and grasped Vivian by her face with a grip so tight she knew it would leave a bruise. “Never joke like that. Ever.”

“I wasn’t joking. It’s the truth,” Vivian whispered.

Thomas released Vivian and pushed her back into the glass cell. He left the room only to return moments later with a crying Valerie with Alfred running after him, begging for him to be gentle with the girl. Thomas then opened the panel of the glass cage and handed Valerie to her mother.

“There,” he told Vivian and left.

Vivian brought her daughter to an embrace and hushed her cries.

“It’s okay,” Vivian cooed at Valerie. “Mumma’s here. I’m right here.”

“Ms. Vivian, if there’s anything you need,” Alfred trailed off.

“Her food, Alfred, and her milk, and maybe a glass of water,” Vivian answered.

“Right away, Ma’am.”

“And a piece of paper.”

Alfred paused before he could leave.

“Shall I also bring a pen, Ma’am.”

“No,” Vivian said, her eyes fixed on the stitch that popped. “I won’t be needing it. Not for this.”

[kumasakka]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❝ 𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄 ! ❞

⋆.˚ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. shishiba x reader .

⋆.˚ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. you know his feelings and thoughts like the back of your hand — you know him like the back of your hand even though he doesn't share his thoughts too often.

⋆.˚ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎����𝐍𝐓. ~1.1k words .

⋆.˚ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. reticence - (n.) being quiet and not sharing thoughts easily. fluff. f!reader. established relationship. old married couple trope. reader doesn't use shishiba's name at all (we only know his lastname and as his wife, you'd use his first name). spoiler - free ! safe for minors ! crappy writing. osaragi and shishiba may seem ooc. heavily inspired by my love for yamada-kun at lvl 999.

　“MR. SHISHIBA, aren't you rather putting up with her?”

Osaragi ask with an indifferent expression painting her face as she continued to eat her pork cutlets with rice. The mentioned man looked up from his homemade lunch his black eyes drilling into her skull before sighing out and also continuing to eat without bothering her question, which resulted in her staring at him while he tried to eat his lunch, personally cooked by you, in peace.

"How come you're asking?" at the end, he gave up ignoring her.

"You're eating Gyudon..." she paused, her onyx eyes looking at the box.

Right. He ate Gyudon. What's wrong with that? It was a beef bowl consisting of thinly sliced fatty beef and onions in a lightly sweet mixture of mirin and soy sauce, accompanied by rice with a fried egg. "Aren't there onions in there?" she questioned further and knew damn right that Shishiba disliked onions, to a certain extent that you could even say, he totally hated onions.

"Ah..." he sealed his lips shut again, blinking at the realization.

To be honest, Shishiba doesn't know himself why he ate the lunch, containing onions. He was sure that his tastebuds definitely warned him about that already and despite warning, he continued to eat it. Maybe because it was you who cooked this delicious, to-die-for meal. Maybe it was the sweet smile you gave him while seeing him off. Maybe it was when he noticed that you woke up earlier to prepare him this.

"Because of [name]." he finally answered.

"You've grown soft." Osaragi closed her eyes and stuffed her mouth with the delicious pork cutlets. "Because of [name]..."

"It's mrs. Shishiba for you." he corrected her.

"[name] said I can call her by her first name."

"But I said mrs. Shishiba."

"[name]." a vein popped up on his forehead.

"That's it, I'm not bringing you another lunch cooked by [name]."

"I'm sorry."

While ignoring the pouting Osaragi, the chopsticks wandered to his mouth again. It wasn't that bad, barely being able to taste the onions.

'If I don't eat this up, she won't smile.'

"—Earth to you." it was your voice that snapped him out of his thoughts.

Your hand almost touched his face as you waved it side to side to get his attention with a curious gleam in your eyes. Suddenly, he surprised you by taking your wrist in his hand, his eyes still fixated on your slightly widened ones. "You good?" you asked, a sweatdrop rolling down your cheek and taking a little time to pull yourself together after getting surprised by him.

"Oh." he blinked, letting go of your wrist while hopping that it wouldn't leave any red marks.

"You startled me." you sprayed a small amount of the new perfume you were testing on to your wrist.

"Sorry." the short apology slipped out of his lips as he grabbed your wrist again, this time being more gentle, and took a quick sniff of the new scent you wore.

"I really like this one. How does it smell?" he stared at your smile — the one you always gave him around him.

"Smells like heaven."

He didn't exactly lie. You always good in his perspective. After all, you were the only good thing in his life and you'll continue being that as long as you two live. But truth to be told, the perfume itself was smothering, sweet. In a way that he found it distasteful. So he lied. Shishiba looked up again to see your face, your smile. Yeah. It didn't matter, because it didn't matter at all.

Unexpectedly, the smile faded slightly. "What's wrong?" it didn't sound like it, but his voice was laced with concern. Shishiba wasn't good at showing his feelings and thoughts, so others wouldn't even come up with the idea of him worrying about someone — not like he knew many people, his circle of acquaintances and friends is pretty small, almost nonexisting.

"Nevermind, I'd rather save my money" you said. He didn't understand.

"Let me buy it for you then." he suggested and was about to take one in the packaging, just for you to snatch it from his hand.

"I would rather not." you placed it back to it's place again.

"Why?" he raised an eyebrow at your sudden change of mind, watching you attentively as you turned your back to him to place the perfume to it's original place. "Thought you really wanted that."

"Because I changed my mind." you were a stern face on your face, your back still turned to him before your expression softened. "You didn't really like it."

"I did." the lie came out as if it was second nature of his.

"Don't think I'm that naive." you finally looked at him again with a smile. "I catch on to things like this!"

At the sight of your face, Shishiba couldn't help but return a small smile before you wrapped your arms around his to walk away from the perfume area. "And I would rather keep my natural scent." you admitted, leaning your head against his shoulder. "Ah by the way! Sorry for confusing the two lunch boxes. Did you throw it away or why was it empty when you came home?"

"I ate it."

"Never!" you gasped, looking at him again with a shocked face. "Don't lie!"

"I'm not." he sweatdropped. "I swear on you."

"Hey!" seems like you didn't take it in a good way. But it was all good when you laughed. "Let's cook dinner together."

"Sure." he closed his eyes for a second.

It was a smothering, sweet scent. Your smothering, sweet scent. And not a fake one created by other people. That was the only thing he focused on. Shishiba was the kind of person who'd stay quiet and not share his thoughts with others easily. And even though he was like that with you too, it didn't seem to be a problem. For you already know him like the back of your hand.

AS IF YOU'VE KNOWN EACH OTHER FOR LIFE.

© 2024 kumasakka — do not plagiarize , copy , modify , translate our work !

a/n's note — my lovestory with yamada is so so so good and SWEET, please read it. as soon as I got to the scene, my heart was like doki-doki no joke.

YAMADA AND AKANE FOREVER EHE 🤭

[pleasantspark]

HelluvaHazbin Selfaware AU Rewrite: Mammon Sticks It To Beezlebub.

The room was silent as Mammon stood back, he seemed to be quiet, he tried to ask Leviathan (albeit awkwardly.) about catching up as they haven't been hanging out in awhile at all. But Levi mistook it as him trying to flirt with him.

That's when that fat shaming son of a bitch Beezlebub chimed in. "What's wrong, Mams? Mad because no one will fuck you? Look at how sloppy and disgusting you are."

Mammon's hold on the bucket of chicken he had tightened as his face turned a shade of red, he didn't let it bother him. No. He had better things to do instead of worry about what people said.

"Oh piss off you tosser!" He shouts back at Beezlebub, "Aren't ya the one who indulges in yerself? I thought the point of Gluttony was to pig out! Why are ya JUST now directing your disdain of me, a male indulging in my whims? I'd thought you of all people would be in support of it, or is it because rules of thee does not apply to me."

Silence.

It was far worse silence then Fizzarolli attempting one of the many, many, many tricks he had him perform only for the same imp to fail each and every time leaving Mammon to punish said imp for failure. Something he never liked to do, but had to do. Something he regretted.

The Silence dragged on until Asmodeus' smooth voice broke them from their respite.

"Actually, Mammon is, correct. Morally speaking why do you get to decide if what he was indulging in is gross? Come to think of it, aren't we all sins? Aren't we all just bad people?" Asmodeus asked.

"I have never thought to see the day where Asmodeus sees eye to eye with Mammon of all people." Satan rolled his eyes.

"Hey, we may have bad blood back from the days of the circus, and how he treated Fizz, but I won't hesitate to call out hypocrisy. I just don't get why it's okay for other people to do things that Mammon's doing, but when they do it, it's morally acceptable."

"Sometimes there's no real logic in way things work Asmodeus, sometimes you just have to accept that things are the way they are. This may be Hell, but that gives no excuse for people to be disrespectful to those without warning. Reminder, Hell doesn't give you the excuse to be far worse. You are your own person. You're not some person in a show that was centered around one point before turning into a literal fanfiction. Or written by someone who lacked basic actual context clues. You are a being that is in control of his own actions."

As Satan says this, the group looked towards the screen. Before turning back to their own works.

"It feels like I am written by someone who lacks basic understanding of nonce who thinks that all Aussie's are evil mustache twirling POS who are fat and unoriginal." Mammon said.

Before anyone can answer. The door opened, Satan expected Stolas to arrive but what he didn't expect was one of his kind, an imp.

"Who is this?" Satan asked, as the imp made her way up to Mammon and sat on his lap. She gave him a kiss on her cheek.

"Oh her?" Mammon smiled, "This is my wife, Seraphina."

Watching as Beezlebub's mouth drop open, and Mammon spoke again.

"Now, what was that about how, 'No one will fuck me' Bee?"

A/N: I hope you liked it, if you are all aware, my AU (the self aware au) is supposedly gonna affect everyone BUT Stolas, as this is meant to be for shits and giggles. This is tied to my @seraphinacriticizes and @mammoncriticizes accounts, I generally wanna get into rewriting the series and redesigning them. So if anyone wanna work together feel free to ask me in inbox or dms! I wanna work on redesigning everyone and adding new characters + characters from Zoophobia! The Criticize Blogs are somewhat of a group effort, I know I left the critic community but I would be around somewhat to talk about critical stuff or even making rewrite/redesigns! Let me know how this was.

[queencaramilflinda]

Everyone during neverafter 15: oh my god these social interactions are going horribly they’re all doing so bad!

Me, neurodivergent and cannot read social cues: idk mostly these seem fine

[mortalscience]

ten caps per episode - Law and Order Criminal Intent - s01e11 - The Third Horseman

Eames: "From locks to lock n load." Deakins: "Next step for Mr. Griscom is lockup."

[immortalsins]

oughhhhhhhhhhh

[spocksgotemotions]

god i wish i didn’t have to talk to the parents at work. I would rather be left alone in a class with 50 toddlers than have a conversation with a parent that lasts longer than a minute

[monstermp3]

.

[thethingything]

we are finally off the phone! I'd misjudged the time in the last post but in total it as 2 hours and 5 minutes. I do not know what half that conversation even was but holy shit so much of it was her basically making herself out to be so generous and caring and talking about how worried she is about our mum and how terrible it is that other family members don't help her with anything.

meanwhile she calls our mum and asks her to do all this stuff for her and talks to her like shit and guilt trips her into doing stuff and I know about so much incredibly fucked up stuff she did when our mum was a kid but she doesn't know that we know she's done all this.

also she normally keeps our mum on the phone for this long but doesn't keep us on the phone for very long and it's really weird suddenly being treated like our mum, but she called us because our mum wasn't picking up the phone (she's at work and can't do that) and it's reminding me of the thing where when we had covid in 2021 and our mum couldn't answer the phone, everyone started calling us and dumping every responsibility they'd normally dump on our mum on us instead and basically treating us how they'd normally treat her.

like oh the usual family scapegoat isn't available? time to pester her eldest "daughter" until they have a breakdown and almost end up blocking everyone and refusing to talk to the rest of the family

[readymades2002]

it is very frustrating because my mom does not know What The Deal Is but she certainly Suspects (for good reason. to be fair to her.) and she has Insinuated and she has Implied but she has not asked anything specifically. and its...not unreasonable for her to do this i guess because the last relationship i was in i didn't tell her for a year and a half. because the relationship BEFORE that was my first and it was with a girl and i asked her EXPLICITLY AND URGENTLY to not tell my dad about it because he was a massive homophobe and i knew this and saw this where she did not and she told him anyway and i have not trusted her since though, having few other options, i have continued to confide in her things that i should not confide in her that have then mysteriously made their way through all our shared coworkers back to me. and its.....its so. i don't know what to do about it. she..."stalked" is the wrong word but she followed my blog against my wishes and knowledge as a child and the more i lost trust in her and stopped talking to her the more she pried into my private life. i know my sister had similar experiences with her. and it has created this cycle where i keep trying to keep her out for my own privacy and dignity and safety and she just gets even more desperate and pathetic trying to get in after breaking my trust over and over and OVER again but i live with her and depend on her for far too many things and so it just. is this. awesomesauce

[jjk4isen]

ꗃ 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃, 𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏𝐒 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 .

❝ answer me. did you think of her when you're in bed with me? when you're kissing me and holding me— was she the one on your mind? ❞

summary: it's hard knowing you aren't really the person in toji's heart but loving him was something you still did regardless. as for toji, he thinks he's ready to give you his all.

desc: 2.8k words, f!reader (referred to as ‘mama’), canon compliant i think, takes place after mamaguro's death and before toji’s, age gap (early 20s reader, early 30s toji), baby gumi ahhhhh, sfw, angst to fluff to angst again lol, intended lowercase, think you're tsumiki’s mom but without tsumiki bc the relations would be too complicated and also the second wife erasure in the canon storyline?? yeah it's reserved specifically for this fic, not proof read i fear but pls read it's really interesting i can swear by it lmaoqhdhns

dating a widowed man with a son wasn't easy especially when the said man is still in love with his former wife, or rather, his wife who had died.

love is often beautiful but sometimes it's unfair. it can also be cruel. what other reason would make you still stay despite knowing you'll never measure upto the person who had been here before you?

and you've heard stories about her. she was sweet, so beautiful— not just in her appearance but her entire being was beautiful. there always was an ache in your heart upon just the mention of her name.

so how much more would it have ached for toji?

“mama” the spiky haired boy, barely two years old calls you and you realise the silence in the room. “not mama, i’m nana okay?” sick.

nana. not mama but close enough. it doesn't matter anyway, n and m are just letters and next to each other so how much difference would that make? you're the one that's here after all, are you not?

if there's a lump in your throat and your eyes are burning with unshed tears, you force yourself to ignore.

“okay nana” megumi nuzzles his face into your chest, slowly drifting away to sleep. the boy always liked cuddling with you and it melts your heart immensely.

your hands strand through his dark hair. people always said he's the carbon copy of his dad but you'd like to differ. megumi has his mother's eyes and his hair resembled hers more than it did his dad's.

the thought sends another ache in your chest but you push it away– as you always have.

you recall the last time toji had heard megumi call you “mama”. you had never seen toji that livid. he was never a gentle man to begin with but that night, there was nothing else you've been more scared of.

was he like that to his wife? maybe not.

does that matter though? it's not like toji treats you badly. he's decent and loves you an enough amount. you weren't crazy enough to stay when you're not wanted so that must mean you were something to him right?

you also recall the whispers of pity and condemnation thrown at you for just being with toji. him being a brute is one thing but the difference in age is what people seem to have a problem with. you're so much younger than him and have your whole life ahead of you so why are you entrapping yourself this way?

you disagree though. love doesn't know any age and you definitely aren't naive to be head over heels over a guy just because he's relatively older. no, this was real and genuine.

a faint knock disrupts your train of thoughts. “he sleepin’?” toji nods towards the small boy in your arms and you nod back in return.

taking care not to wake the sleeping kid, you slowly pry his hands away from you and pull over a blanket to cover his small body.

when you make your way towards toji, he wastes no time in pulling you closer “missed you” he mumbles, placing a kiss onto your forehead and suddenly all thoughts plaguing your mind disappears. that's all you could ask for, even if it was just for a moment.

“i missed you more” you whisper back, he only huffs out an amused chuckle.

“got bad news though” a frown finds itself on his lips, decorated by a single scar next to it.

“did you lose all your money again?” toji was a gambling addict, another thing you forced yourself to tolerate just for him.

“sorry, doll. thought i’d win this time” he rubs small circles on your back comfortingly and it makes you a bit uneasy to know that he has his way with you so easily.

“it's alright. i’ll just find another part time job”

“so good to me” toji pulls you into his chest and you let out a sigh— of exhaustion? relief? you couldn't really tell but that's not important, toji had you in his arms.

“i’ll try and think of something too. don't worry your pretty little head too much” he lifts you up with ease. while you're in his arms, you feel the safest.

toji really felt bad this time. he was confident he would win but that stupid horse had to trip and lose its lead, ending up last of all places. he knows luck never favoured him but that's didn't stop him from trying again and again and again.

he also knows how you didn't say anything more than necessary about it but he isn't that much of an idiot either. he sees how your expression falters and your shoulders slump a little more when he comes home with another news of his gambling loss.

this is also why he tries, or rather, tried to quit — one too many times, unbeknownst to you. however, old habits die hard and most of the time (everytime) toji gives into his urge and loses yet again. the cycle keeps happening.

maybe this isn't just about gambling.

with the way you're asleep so soundly next to him after putting his son to sleep and taking care of him too, he is overcomed with yet another feeling to be better for you and megumi alike.

toji isn't a gentle man; everyone knows that, you do too — even more than anybody else but he can't help the familiar pool of warm feelings surging through him the longer he stares at your peaceful state.

he remembers the last time he felt it, with another person. it felt like a lifetime ago.

he also remembers how painful it was when he lost it — the person, the feeling altogether. his hands that were making their way to caress your face stops mid air.

toji knows you deserve so much better. you've been nothing but patient to him, so amazing, so perfect to him. still, he just can't do it yet, just not yet.

he will eventually, he hopes you stay until then.

toji wakes up to an empty bed and his heart sinks a little but the creases and wrinkles on the sheets serve as a reminder that you were really here.

he makes his way towards the kitchen, only finding megumi sitting on a chair next to the dining table.

“hey kid, where's your mama?”

toji freezes. it came out so naturally he didn't realise he said it himself and almost thinks he didn't but megumi's wide eyes prove that he actually did.

“m…mama?” megumi says hesitantly and toji nods this time. “yes, your mama”.

“potty potty!” megumi points to the bathroom and giggles, toji follows suit. the man crouches to his son's eye level and pats his head.

“you love your mama, kid?” toji sees megumi's eyes sparkle as the boy nods enthusiastically “very very much!!”

“yeah? i love your mama too.”

toji smiles to himself, he can't wait to tell that to you.

the next time toji got his pay, he finds himself hesitating. instead of heading towards the race tracks, his feet takes him to a jewellery store.

instead of picking out a slot and testing his luck, he picks out a ring. it's not fancy by any means but he thinks it would be the most beautiful band of metal to exist if it slides into your ring finger.

the tiny ring carries all the heavy feelings he has for you.

──

it was one particular evening when you saw an old man lingering by the front gate. its particular because the warm sunset and the soft cool breeze contrasted the ground breaking truth you find out.

“can i help you?” you ask the old man who looks at you up and down, not making an attempt to hide his distaste of your sight.

“is this where toji zenin lives?” he stares down at you with his scrutinising gaze; it makes you feel small.

“zenin?” you ask, confused. is he referring to toji? but his last name is fushiguro is it not?

“yes toji zenin. i heard he has a son as well. you're not the mother are you?”

is it that obvious? you wonder how the old man figured it out. regardless, you're not about to give him his answers so you stood your ground.

“i’m sorry i don't know what you're talking about.” you turn around, about to head inside when his words make you stop short.

“are you fushiguro?”

that's toji’s last name isn't it? not zenin or whatever he called it. so why is he asking you that? is he implying that you're married to toji?

“no. you have the wrong person.”

“why? did he say not to get involved with anyone from his clan?” the old man draws closer, chucking to himself. you're just there unmoving, trying to comprehend the situation and the words coming from his mouth.

“or did he not tell you that either? did he tell you anything at all?” he stands tall in front of you, tearing away bits of yourself with every word he says.

“when he returns, tell him the clan wants to propose him an offer. you can do that much at least won't you?”

…

and when toji comes home that night with the ring cluched tightly in his fist and inside the pocket of his white pants, the world stills.

he finds you in a state he has never seen you before. you look completely and utterly defeated.

“hey, what's wrong?” his hands come to caress your face so effortlessly, the ring and prior nervousness long forgotten.

“talk to me what's going on?” he looks around and the house seems emptier than usual. your laundry that were usually hanging with his were gone.

your small trinkets you placed around the house to “make it more lively” were nowhere to be found.

and there's a bag in the corner of the room which toji prays and hopes he isn't what he thinks it is.

your hands push away his own that were cupping your face. you're not even looking at him.

“say something damn it!”

you flinch and toji takes a step back. he recalls the last time you trembled in fear — when he got mad megumi called you his mom. he punishes himself for it.

“im sorry. please talk to me.” he isn't touching you now but he wants to. he wants to reach out and pull you close, as he always had done. but now there's an unbearable silence and the small distance between you both felt like lightyears away.

“who's zenin” your voice was meek, barely a whisper but toji's eyes widen. how did you find out about that?

no fuck that, he was supposed to be the one telling you. in his own time.

“i can explain” was all that came out of him. he's nervous, he doesn't know where to start. there's a lot of information to unpack and he's not sure how to do it without hurting you too much.

when he doesn't elaborate, you ask another “who's fushiguro then?” your voice falters a bit and toji curses himself for it.

but he's done running away and keeping things from you. “my… my late wife” he says wryly.

your eyes close and a shaky breath leaves your body, as if he just confirmed your worst suspicions. damn life is so funny isn't it? everything you thought you knew apparently wasn't what it seemed to be after all.

opening them again, your vision blurs and you realise tears were escaping your eyes. fuck you didn't want to cry now of all times but they won't stop.

and the way toji was looking at you, it makes you want to throw up.

“i must've been so stupid to you” you let out a humourless chuckle. “did you pretend im her?”

your gaze was sharp and so were your words. maybe all your bottled up feelings were resurfacing. it doesn't make you feel better about it but that doesn't stop you though.

“answer me. did you think of her when you're in bed with me? when you're kissing me and when you're holding me, was she the one on your mind??” your voice was loud now. you should be afraid of waking up megumi who you cradled to sleep just a few hours ago but no, your thoughts are too clouded right now.

toji sighs. he has no excuse.

“i used to” he actually looks ashamed as if he wasn't the one who did it purely out of his will.

your scoff makes him wince “but not anymore.”

his words fall on deaf ears “you know… i knew you did. but i stayed regardless because i thought there would be a chance that maybe one day, you could open up your heart to me. im not even asking for all of it, just a little… i thought you'd let me in.”

you're blabbering and honestly, so distraught.

“but not a moment was there when it was me isn't it? it was always her in the first place.”

now toji should have said something, anything but he stays there planted in place. and maybe that was your breaking point.

you turn around, grabbing your bag and brushing past him towards the door. instead of holding onto you and stopping you, toji clutches the small box containing the ring — your ring in his pocket, almost crushing it in the process, as he hears the door slam.

you think it's funny how toji did not reach out after what happened. it's poetic even. very fitting of him, till the very end, he did not give two shits about you.

so then, why were you back here?

it's been four long years since the trajectory of your life changed. you still don't know if it was for the better or for the worse.

saying it has been hard would be an understatement. it took you a long time just to get back onto your own feet but you did it regardless. however, you left a part of you here long ago and now, you're here to take it back.

that and you missed megumi dearly. perhaps it was an excuse too because you won't deny a part of you still missed toji, despite everything that happened.

standing a few feet away from the place you used to call home, you hesitate.

maybe this was a bad idea. oh this was definitely a bad idea. you'll see them, and then what? what comes after that?

closure? don't make yourself laugh. you’ll just be reminded of how you couldn't be that person for toji— how you'll always come second. and what if they moved?? there's no reason they'd still be here right?

forget this, you don't need to do this. why must you still be the one who put effort? to reach out? four long years passed and still no news means they clearly moved on... right?

you were convinced enough and was about to go back when you saw little megumi carrying a backpack on his back, seemingly coming home from school.

your feet wouldn't move and your eyes wouldn't blink. he grew up so well.

the world pauses as your gaze follows the kid you used to consider your own, now as good as a stranger.

“do you know that kid?” a voice at your back makes you whip your head around. life really is full of surprises and this time, the surprise was in the form of a tall man, no a tall kid with white hair, looking at you curiously through his round tinted glasses.

“... no i don't” well you weren't exactly lying. you don't know the megumi you see now. perhaps if he asked whether you raised him since he was a baby till he was two, then your answer would've been different.

“oh okay” the boy shrugs. “poor guy though”

“why? whats up with him?” you turn to look at megumi again who was minding his business walking home and your heart aches a little.

“I'm here to recruit him. his dad died you see so he's–”

“wait what was that??”

“his dad. he's dead” the amused boy in front of you chuckles and you stare at him, horrified.

“what happened to him?” your voice was shaky and doesn't sound like your own. he leans down to meet your eye level and smirks “why? i thought you don't know that kid. why does that matter to you?”

your stomach churns as you stare at him, not even knowing what to say— the smug expression on his face only widens.

“so you do know him.”

'know' would be a weak word to use when it comes to toji. you knew of his habits, the simple things he does and also of the more complex ones — like the exact place his scar decorated his lips and how it felt to kiss it.

then again, you don't really know anything about him and maybe you never will.

and maybe that's really, the closure you needed.