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#my feelings for them are too strong
ewwww-what · 17 days
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Nobody is as excited about the preview as I am. I have paragraphs.
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obsessedwithstarwars · 10 months
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Bruce: How was your class trip Damian?
Damian: It was quiet and productive Father.
Bruce: I’m glad to hear it. What was your favorite part?
Damian: I learned how to escape an Iron Maiden.
Bruce: …
Damian: …
Bruce: Explain please.
Damian: A boy Drake’s age taught me how to escape an Iron Maiden.
Bruce: How did he have that knowledge?
Damian: He claims his family has a dungeon full of medieval torture devices. I believe he may require further investigation.
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canisalbus · 6 months
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hello! i've written a short little machete fic, and i wanted to share it with you as thanks for all the incredible art and generous question-answering you've been doing these last few months. i hope that if you give it a look, you enjoy it. <3 keep up all your amazing work! archiveofourown [.] org / works / 50945128
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✦ A Voi ✦
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th3e-m4ng0 · 3 months
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tangledinink · 9 months
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does draxum have anything to show for harassing the local swan population or was the mission a bust bc ngl that would hurt a lot (:
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swanatello.
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clownsuu · 10 months
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Ay. An offer; one doodle of lovelie for the price of answering my question 🦅
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Eh? Eh?— Anyways my question is; what’s an art tip you can give that really helped you? Anything special when drawing or do you just have a hand of god?
(Btw your one of my favorite artists and I love seeing your work homie, number 1 inspo fr. Keep on cookin 🦅💞)
WAHHH THEY LOOK SO SCRUNGLYYYY (despite his many, m a n y crimes)
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fisheito · 17 days
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Me: Everything i make is garbage i shouldn't even bother
The eiden in my head:
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Me: Sorry eiden you're right my efforts have value
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godbirdart · 5 months
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if there's one [1] thing i will be forever grateful for in the internet era it's the vast variety and availability of pose / anatomy references supplied by photographers and models
i can go online and find PERFECT references for how fat folds crease the skin or how muscles wrap around the body and as someone who habitually draws most of his OCs ~modestly lean~ and wants to hone his skill in other body types, it is literally a godsend to have those refs so readily available
seriously, thank you all models and photographers for providing me the resources i need to expand my art skills i owe u my life
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mueritos · 13 days
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its crazy how coming into clinical social work, i really just thought I was up against systems and cycles of trauma....but it turns out i'm up against those two things AND other therapists. the amount of work spent correcting mistakes from other clinicians--whether with clients or during the classroom--is fucking crazy.
i totally get we're all on different journeys in terms of being clinicians. but it is insane finding out day after day of therapists and clinicians saying the worst things ever to clients. demeaning them, telling them "it's all in their head", the racism and the ableism and harm that is caused. like no fucking wonder people are afraid to seek therapy (on top of the accessibility issues). while i'm a little biased and think that at the very least clinical social work training focuses on viewing people within their environments (so not engaging in the medical/individualist models of practice that a lot of counseling programs focus on), that doesn't mean it gives every person the skills to be an effective therapist. i'm also not saying i'm the best clinician ever--I'm literally in training--but boy! it is jarring seeing how some of my peers interact in class and wondering...is that how you are with your clients??
my social work program at the very least also has a focus on anti-racism, but i know students from other programs and some of them don't even mention racism AT ALL and focus entirely on diagnosing people "correctly", or finding the perfect form of therapy to use on a client. but man, what none of these programs teach are basic life skills. wanting to be a clinician isn't enough, especially considering that an inhumane amount of people in my program are 1. so nervous about making mistakes that they lose scope of their practice 2. have so much internalized racism/white guilt to work thru 3. or they have absolutely no listening skills.
again, im not trying to make it seem like I am the number 1 clinician in the world ever. I don't even have a psych background or bachelor's in social work. my reasons for going into social work are quite selfish (I want a job that is very flexible, easily transferable, and can be done in different contexts), and the helping people part is just a plus. i'm just saying it's very jarring seeing other people in training and realizing they too are working with clients. i have conversation after conversation about these issues with other BIPOC/queer/marginalized clinicians, so I know i'm not the only person worried about some of the people that will be out of this program in a few years practicing on their own or with vulnerable populations.
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daftpatience · 3 months
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man rodeoh hasnt added my not so good review and now im starting to wonder if theres some suspicious reason they dont have any reviews under 4 stars
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puppyeared · 4 months
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i feel like. theres designing a character with certain themes and motifs in mind, and then theres making a gijinka for the water bottle on my nightstand
#me when im the only person on the bus wearing a mask: i should make a furry plaguesona#its hard to explain bc. most of the time i try NOT to give my characters a 'strong' theme like making their whole design around#one thing like apples or even broad stuff like baking or cottagecore.. idk if its partly for flexibility or because i cant imagine them#making it their whole personality. not bc i find it cringe or overblown but more like ive learned to associate design with character depth#i had a cutesy uwu persona for most of highschool because i thought it would make me more. likeable? easy to remember? since#memorable character designs are easy to recognize. and one way of doing that is simplifying it with a theme or symbol so you form an#association. but since im a real person its exhausting keeping up that appearance all the time and denying myself things when they dont#fit my 'aesthetic' or 'theme.' i think ive grown past that bc i just collect stuff because i think it looks cool and dont let myself dwell#on how it might 'fit' with my image. but i cant help feeling bad doing it to my own characters bc it feels like im making them too one#dimensional. despite knowing that theyre not real and design alone doesnt reflect depth i cant help feeling like its wrong#despite that i love seeing motifs because it feels like it reflects the characters soul and paradoxically gives them depth. it makes them#interesting to look at too and honestly its pretty fun combining things that fall under a similar category when designing#i struggle find a balance between those two things#actually this reminds me of noelles christmas theme.. i dont remember her saying anything abt liking christmas despite a lot of#her design and character tying back to it. it makes me wonder if she would have feelings about that or doesnt think abt it too hard#or if its like a matching family shirts situation and shes just going along with it??#maybe i should just do whatever i want with my character designs since theyre not real and im thinking abt it too hard#although. this probably has something to do with deep seated identity issues huh#yapping#oc talk#oc
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stuffedsand · 3 months
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As an alternative to my last question post, hello again milgramblr, who are you entirely certain you Will Not vote guilty in trial 3, no matter what is revealed?
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introspectivememories · 3 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.)
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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.
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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!
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princyvish · 2 months
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🐎
kowboy and piruffy au made my @booburt!!
check their art out I'm currently spinning them in my head
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cerise-on-top · 2 months
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how long do you think it takes Kate and Valeria to day ‘I love you’ to their s/o’s? love ur stuff fyi!!! 💚
Hello! Thank you for liking my stuff, I hope this is enjoyable to you as well! I think it would take the both of them quite a while to say it!
When do Valeria and Laswell Finally Say “I Love You”?
Valeria: It would take her a while to say it. I mean, once she’s with you, she’s already smitten, but she says “I love you” in different ways that aren’t just saying those three words. Valeria courts you with lots of gifts, that much is true, but the closest thing you’ll ever hear from her that resembles a “You have my heart, I love you more than the sun loves the moon, than the ocean loves the land” would be her spending a day with you where she isn’t spending copious amounts of money on you. But that’s not what you asked. Valeria will tell you that she loves you when you’re feeling insecure since she never says it, but on her own accord? It would likely be a year or longer into your relationship, on one of those nights where the two of you are lying in bed together, just talking about your lives, what you’ve been through and how it’s shaped you as people. Just venting your worries, voicing your appreciation for each other and how you’ve helped one another. It’s during such a night, when you’ve gone quiet for a moment, that Valeria would hold you close and tell you, in a voice softer than what you’re used to normally from her, that she loves you.
Laswell: Like Valeria, she shows her love for you through different means. While she may be a gift giver as well, she also shows you how much she loves you by doing anything you may or may not ask of her. From chores, to walking your pet, to cooking you some stew when you’re sick. Laswell doesn’t say that she loves you from the get go either, it would take her several months to a year for her to say it. But when she does, it doesn’t seem like a special moment to anyone else. You’re probably hanging up your freshly washed clothes while she’s sitting at the table, a cup of coffee in hand. Laswell would get up, give you a kiss on your cheek, and tell you that she loves you so very dearly. She was overcome with adoration for you during that moment and needed to show you that she loves you. It’s afterwards that you get a lot more I love yous from her. Not on the daily still, but they would be more common. She will always, and I mean always, accompany her I love yous with some form of affectionate gesture, regardless of whether it be a kiss to your temple, a hug from behind, or a small lovely rose she found in a flower shop. You will always be taken care of and loved.
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paimonial-rage · 3 months
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Character Ask Meme
Lyney 14, 15 and 23
[Character Analysis Ask Meme]
Would Lyney be honest with you?
With his outgoing and fun personality, it oftentimes is easy to get caught within his flow. Lyney is the charming sort, after all, that one may very well forget that he is subject to the same struggles as the rest. Get to know him well enough, though, and you will quickly realize that this is not a fact he wishes others to know. More than a desire, he needs to be seen as someone in control, as someone without weakness. That’s his role as the big brother. And if that means lying, avoiding, and omitting the truth to accomplish it, then as an accomplished performer he will do as he must.
Does Lyney prefer to pursue or be pursued?
With a penchant for flair and dramatics, it’s clear to see Lyney prefers to pursue the people he’s interested in. Really, it’s one of the things he goes all out. With a trick up his sleeve, he won’t hesitate to dazzle you with flowers pulled from nowhere and fireworks from his tophat. He wants you to be enchanted. He wants you to be impressed! You are, aren’t you? You like it, don’t you? So focused on charming you that he often loses sight of much else. Fun fact, should you attempt to turn the tables, however, you can expect his mask of self-confidence to fall to reveal a rather flustered expression beneath.
Headcanons under the cut!
Headcanons
Self-focused - If there’s one thing that’s true about Lyney, it is that he is a very busy person. As a person with multiple masks and roles, his thoughts are often preoccupied with House missions, performances, new tricks, and things of the like. So, much to the dismay of others, it’s easy for things to become buried under the multitude of other tasks he needs to take care of. How often the simple things become forgotten—where he last left his wallet, tea time with his siblings, the sale on picture books at the bookstore. During those times, he really can’t help but appreciate his siblings and their ability to keep him on track. Really, he doesn’t know what he’d do without them!
Relationship-focused - It doesn’t hit you at first, but it doesn’t take you very long to notice how hard Lyney tries for your relationship. Normally this would be a good thing, but it is different with Lyney. Every day he tries to charm you. Every day he attempts to enchant you. You tell him he doesn’t need to try so hard, but that only seems to light a fire beneath him to do even more. You see it in his eyes. He needs to know you are still in awe of him, that you like him as much as he does you. And then it sinks in, doesn’t it? He doesn’t trust you. He doesn’t trust your feelings for him. You’re not sure if he ever will.
#genshin impact#genshin x reader#lyney#lyney x reader#my writing#character analysis#okay let’s talk lyney for a bit#i think the biggest thing to know about lyney is that at his core he is an insecure person#insecure and anxious#imo he’s extremely attached to his title of ‘big brother’ that he needs to fulfill the duties if such#he needs to protect his siblings and be a person others can rely on#this belief is so strong that he refuses to rely on arlecchino for help and snaps at freminet for trying to get him to open up#he really cares about the way he’s perceived#remember when the traveler found out he’s part of the fatui and he spends his time bending over backwards to try to get them to trust him#‘like me! like me! please. i’m trustworthy i’ll never lie to you please!!’#honestly imo that’s just one if his faults like lyney is unstable#idk what possessed arlecchino to make him her successor like he’d crack under pressure#lynette is a way better option#but anyway bc of these things he would not trust his partner in a relationship. he wouldn’t rely on them#he’d never feel secure which would prompt him to keep trying too hard to ensure he’s still the person he thinks you fell in love with#the most important thing to remember with lyney is that he is a performer and the face he shows to the world is essentially a mask#on a separate note tho anon like…#you probably didn’t mean it but i am not a machine that generates text whenever you order me#answering these things takes time effort and energy#so like… if you’re going to send in an ask please at the very least say please or thank you#hell even a heart emoji would suffice LOL#sorry the headcanons are not the most romantic i’m no good with overtly romantic things
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