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oxydiane · 2 years

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‘If you want to kill Harry, you’ll have to kill us too!’ Ron says fiercely, the fire in his eyes not weakened by his injury despite the way all colour had drained from his face. He can barely stand, holding onto Harry’s shoulder and shielding Harry’s body with his own.

Black doesn’t retort, a confused expression taking over his face as he blinks a few times. When he finally speaks, Harry’s chest tightens.

‘Who the hell is Harry?’

***

‘You know what this means?’ asks Black what feels like hours after, as they walk through the tunnel back to Hogwarts. ‘Turning Pettigrew in?’

‘You’re free,’ Harry replies.

‘Well… Your parents appointed me your guardian, if anything happened to them…’ Black mutters looking anywhere but at Harry. ‘I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you — I’m your Godfather.’

‘Yeah, I found that out for myself,’ Harry thinks back to the bitter memory of finding everything out during a snowy day in Hogsmeade. Back when he still had it all wrong.

‘I was so happy, when your dad asked me,’ the man’s eyes are fixed on the floor, a slight smile twisting his face. ‘You were a little miracle, for all of us, during the war… I still remember the first time I held you, that day I swore I wouldn’t ever let anything happen to my Godda—‘ Black must realise his mistake, because he cuts himself off with a sudden cough.

Harry frowns and Black resumes.

‘Yeah, I… I didn’t do a good job keeping any of those promises,’ he twists the wand in his hand. ‘But I… I want to… Of course, I’ll understand if you would rather stay with your aunt and uncle but… If you think about it and decide you want… If you want a different home…’

‘You’re asking me—‘ Harry interrupts his muttering, eyes shining. ‘You’re asking me to live with you? Leave the Dursleys?’

‘Of course, I thought you wouldn’t want to,’ Black replies frantically and Harry almost laughs because he couldn’t have got it any more wrong. ‘I get it, I just thought I’d—‘

‘Are you insane? Of course I want to leave the Dursleys! You got a house? When can I move in?’

Black turns to look at him, a surprised expression as he meets Harry’s smile.

‘You— you really want to? You mean it?’

‘Of course I mean it!’ Harry half-yells, barely able to keep his excitement under control. He was going to leave the Dursleys and live with Black! His… Godfather. A sudden thought makes its way inside Harry’s head as he remembers Black’s previous slip-ups and his smile falters for a second before adding. ‘But, uhm… You have to know that I’m not… I’m not your Goddaughter.’

A strange glint passes through Black’s clear eyes.

‘Then,’ he says easily. ‘I guess I’ve got a Godson.’

‘Yeah…’ Harry’s smile comes back tenfold, his chest a lot lighter. ‘That you’ve got.’

Black smiles back and they both ignore the rough sound of Snape’s passed out body bumping the low ceiling.

‘You know, I kept telling Lily they would have a baby boy, she had so little morning sickness! And the hunger, James ought to have earned some kind of chef title by the end of it.’

Harry can’t help but grin at the fond look on Black’s face.

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scrollonso · 1 month

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i have come to the realization that waiting room by pheobe bridgers is the most first kiss strollonso song ever.

let me explain.

If you were a teacher, I would fail your class. Take it over and over 'til you noticed me

I feel like the hint at a teacher-student thing shouldn't be taken as a taboo in this context because (not only is the age gap smaller but) lance truly does what he does for the attention and praise he gets from nando in return, he continues to fail because every time he does he is noticed by the "teacher"

If you were a waiting room, I would never see a doctor. I would sit there with my first-aid kit and bleed

This mainly makes me think of lance crying in nandos arms after he dnf, holding on tight to him as he "bled" but not necessarily "seeing a doctor" (talking about it) because the best thing for him was the "waiting room" (fernando)

I wanna be the power ballad that lifts you up and holds you down

He wants to be fernandos everything, his motivation, his friend, his lover, his supporter, HIS SUN.

I wanna be the broken love song that feeds your misery

He wants to be something fernando continues to come back to no matter what, like a broken love song fernando adores and even though it can hurt he cant stay away because it is his favourite

And I can wish all that I want, but it won't bring us together

As of right now in the au lance isnt even aware of his own feelings let alone the fact fernando feels the same, no matter how much he tries that longing and craving he has for more doesnt disappear because he isnt aware just how much more he needs

Plus, I know whatever happens to me, I know it's for the better

As lance continues in his rookie season he becomes used to losing, used to retiring early, used to fucking up, while fernando continues to win, but he cant bring himself to care when he goes and sees fernando on the podium

And when broken bodies are washed ashore who am I to ask for more, more, more?

When both of them have been hurt, been through things, struggled, had their own negative thoughts about the feelings they'll soon come to terms with, who is lance to beg fernando to be more than just friends and coworkers?

But you're breathing in my open mouth, you're the gun in my lips that will blow my brains out

Fernando literally takes lances first kiss. He's the first pair of lips lance has ever had on his own, the first person to hold him this way, touch him, love him, soothe him, praise him, his first everything, if this doesnt work out its going to kill him.

I wanna make you drive all night just because I said, "Maybe you should come over"

In the au lance lives in geneva switzerland like in real life and fernando was visiting mark in queanbeyan australia WHICH IS A 36 HOUR FLIGHT AWAY THAT LANCE TOOK WITH NO HESITATION JUST TO SEE FERNANDO A WEEK EARLIER THAN HE WAS SUPPOSED TO.

Wanna make you fall in love as hard as my poor parents' teenage daughter

He knows fernando is older and has most likely loved someone before but he cant help but want nando to love him as hard and passionately as he loves fernando (HIS POOR PARENTS' TEENAGE SON.)

She'll be the best you ever had if you let her

This could truly go both ways, with fernando being more expierenced and willing to do anything for lance with no hesitation and lance not knowing exactly how to love but willing to do anything to show fernando just how much he truly loves him.

I know it's for the better. Know it's for the better

With lances internalized homophobia in the au he believes that convincing himself he truly just looks up to fernando is for the better because admitting he's in love with another driver would be insane

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rintoons · 2 years

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tsukishima has no game. he looks good, is so tall to the point where he’s easily intimidating, and is the smartest mf you will meet… but one thing he can’t do is flirt. he just doesn’t know how; which is why he can be so incredibly mean.

when he likes you, you would never know because he would either avoid you to the ends of the earth and wait for the crush to go away (#relatable, #tsukki kinnie) or he would tease you to the point where you have no choice but to believe that he sincerely hates you.

in the unlikely instance that he’s unfortunate enough to fall for someone who has trash talking skills that are on par with his, if not better, he will simply malfunction. the man won’t know what to do. he’ll say something that’s completely baffling, but when you have barely any reaction, he’ll be struggling not to fall on his knees because that little ‘is that the best you can do?’ look you’re giving him is absolutely grounding.

everytime he talks to you in an attempt to regain his machismo, he finds himself falling even deeper in the hole that you’ve earnestly dug for him. your replies are just so short and curt yet so teasing and demeaning. it’s to the point where he thinks there are actually a few things he could learn from you. by simply repeating his statement back to him in a condescending tone, you can make him feel like anytime he speaks is just word vomit.

when you talk to him and he stutters so horribly that you let out a little laugh, you can’t help but feel bad for him when his teammates don’t waste a second before they’re confronting him about it and poking fun at him for it.

everyday when he goes home, he lays in his bed and thinks about what an absolute fool you make of him anytime you’re near each other. and he wonders what on earth he did to deserve that. and he wonders why on earth he’s falling even deeper in love with you.

but of course, he already knows why.

idk how many words lol; 9:48 pm

#rintoons #rinnie’s directory #i wrote this in like 5 minutes #i didn’t proofread this lol sorry #i was watching tasm and for some reason peter reminds me of tsukishima a lot #but not super canon tsukishima #just a tsukishima i would dream about lmao #n e ways i luv him #tsukishima kei #haikyuu!!#hq fluff #haikyu x reader #tsukishima fluff #hq #tsukishima x reader #spiderman #the amazing spider man #tasm is amazing btw #i will defend those two movies with my LIFE!!!

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solshinez · 1 year

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walls that shouldn't crumble

doubt creeps under my skin

for every passing happy memory

time lends you such perfect shots

and time shall collect the debt owed

for nothing stays peaceful forever.

love is an ocean i wanna protect

yet quiet oceans only exist

within the confines of my flawed mind

to relish in such happy moments

to think long-term in such finite life

is a fatal flaw i should have learned

while nursing the wounds that mold me.

#sol writes #original poem #poetry #i wrote this in like 5 minutes #and this is unpolished #the vault (my journal)#poem #writing #short poem #writeblr #sorry this is my coping mechanism

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iwillwakeherinthemorning · 2 years

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Keep Asking Me

Open Ended x Reader

Song: Keep Asking Me by Francis Wells

My Dearest Beloved,

You asked me last night if I was okay. I didn’t know how to answer at the time so I just looked at you. I think my blank look scared you though. Please keep asking me.

I don’t know what’s going on right now. The world is really fucking scary. My mind is even scarier because I don’t know how to properly string together a sentence when you ask me. But I request that you keep asking. Because each time you do I’m reminded that there is someone here who cares. I’m reminded of our adventures. Of our quiet moments of joy and love. Please keep asking me.

If it’s okay, for now, I’ll respond with a letter like this one. And they can be a little bit of permanence in the ever changing landscape of my mind and it’s cruel tricks. We can both read them. Please keep asking me.

Love,

Y/N

#open letter #my writing #I’m sorry for the bad grammar #I wrote this in like 5 minutes #g/n reader

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lovesickeros · 9 months

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☆ glimpse of divinity

{☆} characters lyney, neuvillette [ separate ] {☆} notes cult au, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings none {☆} word count 0.8k

× neuvillette

The first time he sees you strolling the streets of Fontaine with a glint of wonder in your eyes, he thinks he must have finally lost it. He has to rub his eyes and check a few dozen times before he's certain that you are, in fact, real and not some figment of his imagination conjured by a lack of sleep and overdose on caffeine.

..Though now that he gets a better look, it's not quite the same. Like a smudged painting, he thinks. Still, the uncanny resemblance to the visage of the Divine One has him lingering around the area just to stare a little longer, a deep, devoted sense of affection bristling beneath his skin.

And then you turn sharply on your heel, staring directly back at him, and he feels a sudden wave of embarrassment and something akin to shame.

Archons, he'd just made a fool of himself, hadn't he?

He quickly turns away, clearing his throat and hiding his embarrassment behind his hand. Though it does not seem to deter you, the soft tap of your shoes growing closer until you were peering up at him with wide eyes.

"..Hello." He offers awkwardly, a little too stiff and a little too formal, but you don't seem to mind in the slightest. He knows that your appearance, your vague similarities to the Divine One are mere coincidence, but it does not stop his heart from skipping a beat when you smile up at him. "I– apologize for being so uncouth and staring, it's just.."

His voice trails off into a breathy exhale, his hand twitching on his cane as if he wanted to reach out and touch you..but he restrains himself in time. He could not make a bigger fool of himself – he would never hear the end of it from lady Furina.

"You remind me of someone."

He decides, readjusting his hands on his cane as he bows his head for a moment is a show of genuineness, though it must look awkward with how stiff his body feels.

Yet he cannot help but want to get closer anyway, to hear the silky lilt of your voice grace his pointed ears. This is as close as he will ever get to the Divine..he is a weak man, he finds, as he offers a hand to you.

"I understand if this is a bit..forward, but would you mind joining me for tea?"

× lyney

He is a master magician – his entire work is built on keen misdirection and sleight of hand, but even he stumbles for a minute thinking he'd seen an illusion in your warm smile and striking features. Almost an exact copy of the Divine One, yet not quite..

Still, it's enough to pique his interest – enough, too, to give him the confidence to slip into your conversation with ease, all smiles and the slip of a card between his fingers.

"Hello, stranger – I don't think I've seen you in Fontaine before," He laughs, his hand reaching around to rest gently on your opposite shoulder, his voice a ghost of a whisper in your ear. "Say, could I interest you in a bit of magic?"

He perks up at the way you seem to light up like fireworks at his offer, a spark almost like recognition in your eyes he brushes aside – he's quite well known, after all.

"Good! Now, if I may just borrow your attention for a minute.." He grins, stepping around you and turning sharply to face you, his hand outstretched with a deck of cards in his hands, face down. "Let's start simple, shall we? I shan't overwhelm my audience – pick a card."

He holds the cards out again, his features twisted in something like awe, though he hides it well.

His heart flutters at the briefest of glances of your hand against his as you pluck a card from his hand, and he quickly retracts it, reshuffling the deck with a broad grin and a wink.

"Do your best to remember it! If you could return it to the deck.." The card is placed back in it's place amongst the rest, and the magic begins!

"Now then, let's see..hm," He hums for a long moment, the silence filled by the constant shuffle of cards until he suddenly plucks one from the deck, flipping it around for you to see. "Is this your card?"

He frowns when you shake your head, almost pouting, before he lights up again and steps forward.

"Ah! How foolish of me, I missed it..it's riiight here, see." He winks, reaching behind your ear..and pulls free a card from seemingly thin air. He flips it around for you to see again, and when you tell him it is, in fact, your card, he flips it around again.

And before you can see it, he's holding a rainbow rose between his fingers, his hand outstretched as he bows.

His eyes glint with a sort of wonder as he looks at your features, his smile widening a fraction.

"Well, dear stranger? Did you enjoy the show?"

#sagau #genshin sagau #self aware genshin #genshin impact sagau #self aware genshin impact #fic tag #neuvillette #lyney #basically reader IS the creator but since the statues of you were built on vague descriptions its a bit off from your actual appearence #so everyone jsut thinks ur like #blessed or smth #anyway can u tell i love fontaine.#furina isn't here bc pt 2 of my prev fic somehow turned into focalors only and i need 2 save my brain power fr That #anyway enjoy these drabbles i wrote in like 5 minutes gn zzzzzzzzzzz #i just needed a breather from that long fic bc im DYING over here lord

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shumyungho · 9 months

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warning: cursing

jeon wonwoo doesn't like the idea of loving someone romantically.

he doesn't like it when couples are incredibly comfortable with each other in public spaces, whenever he sees them, he has the sudden urge to puke.

he doesn't bear with his friends’ teases on why he's single, because he doesn't intend to dedicate his whole life to someone.

he’d rather just sit in silence, reading a book, playing games on his nintendo, and ignoring mingyu all of his life.

until, his friend; kwon soonyoung, has a sibling; you, that he seems to bear more than anyone.

he hates how your smile can immediately brighten up his mood– or he craves your laugh whenever he says anything relatively funny– or you're probably the first one’s opinions he actually cares about.

his friends notice this, perking up with a phrase related to “what a nonchalant guy like you fall for them!”.

he hates it, he fucking hates it.

“i don't like them, you guys are idiots,” he mutters to jeonghan who was teasing him seconds prior.

jeonghan snickers with a statement afterward, “it's pretty obvious by the way you glare at them, it's like all of your problems gone away when you look at them. it's crazy.” jun adds in; “you giggle at their unfunny jokes, ‘woo.”

“don't call them unfunny..?” he retorts, “their jokes are actually funny– if you get their humor.” he defends you. “and no, certainly no, i don't like them, you guys are dumb.”

“whatever you say, wonwoo.” they sneer. “you have to give us five dollars, each if you admit that you actually like them in the end.” seungcheol giggles.

“fuck off,” he says, irritated.

but later that week, one night; he thinks for a minute, actually… not just a minute. you flood over his mind every hour of the day. he lays in his bed, his headphones on his neck, his hand gripping his phone as he stares at his wall.

“i don't… i don't like them… that's dumb. liking people romantically– is stupid.” he tries to assure himself.

he sighs in disappointment, hanging his head low. whatever. he thinks.

he goes to school the next week, with 60 dollars in his wallet, and a mind flooded with you.

#my works!#seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #svt x reader #wonwoo #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo fluff #jeon wonwoo #jeon wonwoo x reader #idk i just wrote this in like a span of 5 minutes #seventeen fic #svt fic #wonwoo fic

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introspectivememories · 4 months

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what's wrong with data analyst bernard?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tamara and Abhishek smile as they get introduced.

"They run this building?" he asks confusedly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You want me for longer?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck, Fuck.

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

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

Golden ties for golden boys, he thinks absentmindedly.

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

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

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

He blinks slowly, "...What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What is going on here?" Tim asks.

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

Abhishek, no!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bernard says nothing instead.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His body sags.

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

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

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

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

BANG!

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

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

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

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

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

Plink, plink, plink.

Bernard hates the scent of iron.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bear?” the other side says groggily.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But I’m still dead,” she says.

“But I’m still dead,” he repeats.

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, of course.”

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

Darls nods; he tells them as such.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ty, not helping.”

“Move over, let me talk to him."

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

"I can't, I can't," he gasps out.

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

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

"Good, good. Anything else?"

"The tiles need to be re-grouted."

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

"Keep going."

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

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

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

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

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

"At my new job at Wayne Ent."

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

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

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

"No!” he says vehemently.

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

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

“Ma!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bernard exhales shakily.

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

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

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

“Okay,” he says simply, “okay.”

“Okay?” Ty asks hopefully.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No s-, Young-joon. You’re fine.”

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

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

Bernard nods.

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

“Yes.”

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

“...Yes. Junior year.”

“You know our CEO.”

“Yes,” he breathes out.

“How?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bernard mock salutes, “Yes, sir.”

“Goodbye, Bernard.”

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

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

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

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

“You just got Young-joon-ed, huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We’ll make it through, she says.

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

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

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

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

thank you for reading!

#god i'm exhausted #writing the latter end of a fic always feels like finishing a marathon #no more fics for like the next 6 months (<- me when i lie)#anyway big fan of the bear hallucinates darla club!#currently there's only one member (me) but you can change that #also favorite trope ever is when you see a regular dude and you're like 'what a nice normal dude' and then you talk to him for like #5 minutes and you're like '/oh./ this dude has something wrong with him'#also the tyrone/jimmy pairing? do you see my vision?#also big fan of the the shooting was worse than what you see in rr club!#it's just there was a city-wide gang war and all the gangs came to grieves to kill darla and you're telling me only she died???#i think way more people died. i think too many people died actually. i think the school had to do remote learning for all of tyrone's sr yr #cause the renovations were too much.#also just to clarify #the is hallucination!darla and there is the darls he sees all the time. no they are not the same to him. yes he is mentally ill.#also yes!! superheroes do exist in this world!!! i just didn't mention them.#also if we're being a little self-critical for a moment #(don't look at this part) i feel like i could've ended this at a way earlier point in the story but i had such a strong vision of what the #fic was supposed to be like that i just wrote everything #anyway lets start tagging #bernard dowd #tim drake #timbern #timber #dc #red robin tyrone #red robin jimmy

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lovvecherrymotion · 5 months

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i'm seeing the jance posts and i do have some thoughts about that but i'm also in a hurry so i guess i'll make a more general post about Everything™

some fans seem to forget they're only fans and try to act more like friends than anything else (i see this mostly on twt and instagram). and since joker out interact a lot with the fandom, i guess people forget about the boundaries and go wayyyy overboard on their behaviour. there are certin jokes and comments i'd do with friends and would never do with strangers which... they pretty much are? we only actually see what they want us to see (and no matter how genuine their public persona is, it's still a very small part of who they are)

i avoid interacting with the boys unless it's normal stuff like tagging them in a story about the show i went to or something. every single time i leave a comment on their social media i make sure it's something i'd actually say to their faces

and sure i'm a shipper and i say plenty of unhinged things on my tumblr but at the end of the day i also KNOW they're real people and they deserve respect and i'm a huge fan of shipping and whatnot being in fandom spaces

bring the 4th wall back, please

#joker out #i wrote this in 5 minutes it's not great and i'm missing a lot of stuff but it's something that's been on my mind for a while too #i think social media changed the way we do fandom and a lot of people just forget how to act with the actual artists #i have thoughts on the whole don't look at me like that because they think we're going to kiss video as i stated yesterday #but who the fuck knows what they're actually feeling i don't know them i just know jan and nace the public figures #and that's something i guess we can't really forget

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wretchedbirdthing · 6 months

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“Well done, Aka.” Yukari smiled warmly, her tone soft and comforting.

“My most loyal of shikigami. It would only make sense for your reward to be proportional to the quality of the work you’ve done for me.”

Creating a gap in front of the two, she reached inside with one hand and smiled at the tengu. Without breaking eye contact with her, Yukari wriggled her arm. Aka’s ears perked up as she heard the tell-tale shaking of a particular jar. Instantly, she began to drool, her eyes widening into dazzling red saucers. Such a reaction made Yukari smile even brighter.

Aka’s breathing hastened as Yukari pulled her hand out, holding a lavishly decorated purple tin labeled “The Good Birdseed” in large, cursive letters.

#touhou #aka yakumo #yukari yakumo #i don't think i'll be able to finish my fic for the anniversary #i'm so close it's just the yukari parts that i'm struggling with #hopefully this will suffice..#(i wrote this in like 5 minutes as a joke)#akaposting #I’m sorry for feeding her birdseed #I won’t do it again #why did I write this #I’m so sorry please forgive me #I guess this is my one month anniversary post..

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ja3yun · 3 days

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someone take this keyboard away because why am i genuinley getting upset writing sunghoon's part in the epilogue

#aj talks #why am i like this?#i need 5 minutes #like i already wrote most of this but why and i trying to make it hurt more??

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beetled-juice · 8 months

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Beetlejuice offering to put on some music to help "set the mood" while you drag him to your bedroom, and while you don't really care either way, you're happy to let him do something he thinks is romantic.

The first few songs play out while you're busy stripping each other, clothes landing in a pile on the floor in between fervent kisses. They barely register in your brain, especially since the music seems kind of quiet, and he easily distracts you by pulling you onto the bed after him.

You're both enjoying the chance to touch and tease each other, swapping kisses and squeezing whatever's in reach. Just as you're letting your hand trail down his stomach, however, you hear the very distinct beginning notes of the next song play out. You freeze, clenching your hand into a fist and dropping your forehead onto his shoulder.

"No... is this-"

"Rick Astley's 1987 hit 'Never Gonna Give You Up', which now has over 1.4 billion views on YouTube? Yes, yes it is ♡." At your grimace, he let out a booming cackle that echoed off the walls of your room.

"Alright, we're done here," you sigh, rolling away to sit up on the edge of the bed. You narrowly dodge his flailing outstretched hands, and bend over to pick up your shirt.

"Aw babes, come on! You know, that song played straight from my heart! I would never give you u- oof," he said, his sentence interrupted by the striped pants you threw at his head. As you walked out the bedroom door, he laid back down on the bed, loudly singing along in the hopes of wooing you back into bed with him.

(it didn't work.)

#beetlejuice x reader #musical beetlejuice x reader #nsft #this is so stupid I'm so sorry. this came to me in a vision #i wrote this in like 5 minutes because if i didn't do it now i never would #my stuff

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livingthesimplifd · 1 year

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Soft Shane headcannons

When you go to jojamart before you're together he hides in the backroom till you leave becuase he's *nervous*

When you visit him at jojamart after you're together he pulls you out of site of Morris to give you a kiss

He tries to cook for you while you're out and about all day but he's not very good at it you've come home to quite a few cooking disasters

He's generally a disaster with good intentions

He tries to carry heavy stuff for you even though you're stronger than him from the farm life. You let him do it anyway because he likes to help you

He goes to see his therapist every week and you always pack him a lunch for the bus ride to the city (it's the best part of those days)

Whenever he gets a new chicken he gets super serious about naming them and will stay up all night trying to think of the perfect name

You have come home to chickens all over the house many times because "they get lonely!"

Marnie and Jas will randomly show up at your house to check on Shane and bring dinner for you both. When they leave he gushes to you about how much he loves them both

Shane keeps every drawing Jas has ever given him on your fridge (there's a lot but he refuses to take any down)

Lmk if you want more I could go on forever lol

#sdv #stardew valley #shane #stardew valley shane #stardew valley headcanons #soft boy #i wrote this is in like 5 minutes #i could do so many more #give my man the credit he deserves

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oxydiane · 2 years

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Harry growing his hair long because since he was a child, that was the only thing he could control: his hair was wild and free and Aunt Petunia could not cut it.

He liked his hair, it was thick and dark and he had control over it. So he decides to grow it out.

But Harry was never really good at planning ahead. By third year, it reaches his shoulders and he shyly takes Hermione to the side to ask her about proper hair care. Hermione frets about using conditioner (Harry does) and actually brushing it (Harry doesn’t) but she can only give him vague tips because while Harry’s hair is a mess of unruly locks, Hermione’s curls are tight and messy in a completely different way.

Hermione eventually comes back to him after some thorough research at the library and a round of questions to all the other girls and is able to handle Harry a neatly written list of products that would help keep his hair healthy.

When Harry stumbles into the dormitory with new bottles, Ron raises his eyebrow and asks him if he’s finally decided to take care of that bird nest. Harry nods and Ron smiles before asking him if he’d let Ron brush it. ‘You always look like you’d rather eat a pile of Hippogriff dung,’ Ron reasons and Harry barely hears it because his mind is going haywire. He asks Ron if he knows anything about hair care anyways and Ron laughs, reminding him of Ginny and that’s the day Harry finds out his best friend can tie up a mean french braid.

He thought that letting people touch his hair would be dreadful. Harry was so sure he would hate every second of it, but instead he finds it quite delightful. When Ron’s fingers run through his locks and when Hermione rests a hand on the back of Harry’s head, he can’t help but feel calm and content. It gets presumably bad when the feeling of contentment is replaced by a proper backflip inside his chest as Ron fixes one of Harry’s bangs behind his ear. Harry tries not to think about it.

When he meets Sirius for the first time, he has long hair too. It is nothing like his, Harry thinks. Sirius’ hair is worn and thin and damaged by years of neglect and malnutrition, but the way it falls over his shoulder feels like a telltale of what it once used to be. Glorious.

It takes a while for Sirius’ hair to start looking healthy again. When Harry used his bathroom at Grimmauld Place he finds the shower supplied with the same products he would keep in the Gryffindor Tower’s lavatories and he feels warm. Maybe he could ask Sirius about his hair routine.

One day during a summer Harry is spending at Grimmauld Place, Ron galaxies away, he makes his way to the armchair Sirius is sitting on in the living room. Brush in hand, he shyly asks Sirius if he would like to fix his hair up for him a bit and Sirius smirks before saying he can do much more than that. That’s the day Harry starts considering braiding hair flawlessly might just be a Pure-blood thing.

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comfysofti · 2 months

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Something with shifting mound that i came up with while listening to soundtrack of her movements :33

Each time, a new princess arrives in her hands. New perspectives. New warmth. New presences. All parts of her, all so different, yet the same. In this void, waiting for her to be complete. Some parts of her talked with one another, others were merely looking around, others were trying to talk to shifting mound herself. But what she liked to do, while waiting, was singing. Soft melody that filled the endless Long Quiet. It was a soothing melody

Her voice, yet again, echoes through the endless void, her eyes closed, other parts of her were somewhere at the distance. She didn't really noticed them in those moments. And she didn't wanted to disturb them anyway, so she kept her distance, sitting on the edge of the "hill" where the "cabin" supposed to be

Something that made her open her eyes was feeling of someone next to her. Her singing slowly died down, as she opened her eyes, looking at the princess next to her. The Damsel sat next to her, looking at her curiously, but when she noticed that Shifting mound stopped singing, her expression seemingly faltered for a moment

"did i disturbed you? I didn't ment to. I just wanted to listen to you sing"

She said, in rather apologetic tone. Shifting mound just smiles, soft laugh escaped her lips, as she gently embraced the princess

"you didn't, don't worry. But, if you enjoy listening to me this much... Why don't you sing with me?"

She said, smiling at Damsel, who looked at her with curious expression that quickly turned into happy, excited one even. She nodded in response, smiling broadly

"i would love to!"

She said, embracing Shifting mound in return

This was nice. Really nice. But, with no time to waste, the two started singing softly together, still in eachothers embrace. To shifting mound it felt like she was holding her daughter. Nice, soft feeling

The two kept singing, feeling the void with new notes, and new tones, as some other princesses joined

The next to join, was the Thorn, her tone, quiet, a bit tired, but gentle. Then the Spectre joined, her voice, like a million echoes, joined the tune. All of them, in eachothers embrace, kept sharing this tune through the endless void, as they waited for the last arrival. Or maybe not. Shifting mound is infinite as all of them are. They are different, but so familiar. Parts of the same being. And despite them being such, she couldn't help but feel like they were just a family. Her, being the mother and them being her daughters, that she loved and cherished. But there's so many more of them

Hopefully, all of them will be able to sing a new tune, through a new world

#slay the princess #stp shifting mound #writing #yes this is how i imagine shifting mound treats the vessels :33 #i just wanted to write something wholesome fight me #note: i wrote this in like 5 minutes #how is my brain writing this fast idk

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