this write up is the worst

You’ve Only Just Arrived - Part 76

Previously in YOJA: Holidays are, without argument, one of the worst things to face in the aftermath of a bad breakup. Spending time with family would have made sense if some of them weren’t part of the reason for the heartbreak. Remaining abroad and spending a little time rebuilding yourself had been your plan for surviving Christmas and New Years, up until Matt had offered a trip to London to celebrate with his family. A solution to satisfy all parties involved; your father, Mark, Matt, et al. And it was a solution that was working, helping you to forget your heartache for a little while, up until spotting someone familiar in the crowd. 

[Catch up on YOJA here]



YOJA 76


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beaniebride99  asked:

Hey, so last night I was really upset with myself over this fight that my GF and I had. I was writing in my journal and first wrote worst boyfriend, then crossed that out and put friend, then put girlfriend. Do you think I was purposefully misgendering myself because I was upset? Because I've also been beating myself up with how I look lately. I am too feminine.

Hey! I think that may have been it, you might have wanted to take it out on yourself.
And it could’ve been you taking out your feelings of feeling too feminine on yourself too.

You should try to stop misgendering yourself, it’ll make you feel much better in yourself. - Matthew

archiveofourown.org
What has no hands, but grips you tight? | Archive of Our Own
Chapter 2: A Night to Forget
By Organization for Transformative Works

Fic summary: Ed gets a call from Oswald and is tasked with finding out who the new masked villain in town is. A man named ‘The Scarecrow’ has been terrorising the city, leaving the underworld in a state of disarray. After working tirelessly, Ed tracks down Jonathan Crane and confronts him in his psychologist office. Despite Oswald warning Ed to be careful, Ed chooses to provoke Crane resulting in his worst nightmares quickly becoming his reality.


The second half is finally up, sorry about the wait. Please read the tags before reading as it deals with themes that could be tramatic. I don’t want anyone to go into this unprepared.

jooheonie-s  asked:

He saw her in pajamas and called her cute and the moment half the planet died of heart ache, when he HELD HER HAND *already crying* and tells her he likes her, and asks what did he do wrong 😭😭😭 istg I was flipping tables and exploding things more than the bf simulator. Besides the cruelty with my favorite tol and soft boy, everything was amazing and I really wish you'd write more long complicated stories like this. Thank you for writing and sharing it 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

(i did read all your other messages but to spare everyone, i won’t put them all on one post~) ahhh i’m so soft rn this is lovely thank you so much!! i’m really glad you liked it, i had some help from others with the plot because originally she was gonna end up with hyungwon but,, i love making people suffer and what not. changkyun officially the worst boyfriend simulator ever but hey! i got some requests for a part 2 which i might think about doing (i have no idea what to write though…) but if you were looking for other longer scenarios, i have quite a few that are over 10k! i’ll link them:

jewel in the crown - kihyun (15.1k)
poles apart - taehyung (13.6k)
fifty two - sehun (19.6k)
blandish her - jongin (15.5k)
bete noire - suho (11.1k)
until hell freezes over - yixing (10.6k)
the art of deception - luhan (14.8k)

and there’s more to come! thank you so much for these messages ahhh i love you, you’re one of the nicest people alive ♡♡♡

The neural network generated pickup lines that are actually kind of adorable

So it occurred to me that the same neural network framework I’ve trained on recipes, Pokemon, superhero names, and Irish tune names might be able to write pick up lines as well.

Gathering the dataset was much more painful than I had expected - I hadn’t really read many of these before, and most were obscene, or aggressive, or kind of insulting. I began to regret the whole project.

But although the neural network figured out the basic forms “You must be a … because….” or “Hey baby, wanna…” it never learned to generate the worst lines - most of these were based on wordplay that it didn’t have a chance of reproducing. 

Instead, it began to generate lines that varied from incomprehensible to surreal to kind of adorable:

Are you a 4loce? Because you’re so hot!
I want to get my heart with you.
You are so beautiful that you know what I mean.
I have a cenver? Because I just stowe must your worms.
Hey baby, I’m swirked to gave ever to say it for drive. 
If I were to ask you out?
You must be a tringle? Cause you’re the only thing here.
I’m not on your wears, but I want to see your start.
You are so beautiful that you make me feel better to see you.
Hey baby, you’re to be a key? Because I can bear your toot?
I don’t know you.
I have to give you a book, because you’re the only thing in your eyes.
Are you a candle? Because you’re so hot of the looks with you.
I want to see you to my heart.
If I had a rose for every time I thought of you, I have a price tighting.
I have a really falling for you.
Your beauty have a fine to me.
Are you a camera? Because I want to see the most beautiful than you.
I had a come to got your heart.
You’re so beautiful that you say a bat on me and baby.
You look like a thing and I love you.
Hello.

Fran and Jock

by reddit user Pippinacious/ tumblr user muricanmagpie

I was the last in a long line of grandkids on both sides of the family. No one has ever said as much, but I’m pretty sure I was an “oops” baby; the result of one too many glasses of wine and a couple over forty who thought unplanned pregnancies were for teens.

Oops.

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I think it hurts the worst when you get your hopes up for something, get them up really high to the point where you think it actually might happen–and then it doesn’t. And you’re left sitting there, under the weight of your disappointment, with concrete in your chest and tears lining your eyes, and what do you do after that? Nothing. All you can seem to do is sit there and listen to the echoing sounds your body makes in all of its emptiness.
—  MC
6

Historical Fanfic No One Asked For: Blue Coat Red Coat

Steve found his mark in the barn.

He held his wounded belly, chest rising and falling. A wounded, wild animal. He looked up at Steve with all the defiance a dying man could muster. Steve held his bayonet at the ready. He should’ve shot. The man was a rebel, a traitor to the king. But that look in those steel eyes– they spoke of desperation, of a life suppressed and denied freedom. Steve wasn’t daft. In those eyes, Steve saw himself, clear and free of England’s patriotism. He wore the colors of oppression, the symbol of a king who let others die in his stead, he grew up reciting prayers altered to fit a king angered by the Catholic Church. He was a lie, and all it took was that flash, unfiltered, raw and so very clear in the blue coat’s gaze. So Steve lowered his bayonet, dropped to his knees and pulled out his bandages. 

The man flinched away, but his throat betrayed him with mangled whines of pain. He let Steve undo the buttons on his jacket and rip open his cotton shirt. The wound glistened in the barn. Orange flames from Steve’s lantern painted the man’s chest in wild flashes of color. Steve pulled out a flask of water, cleaning the wound. He’d need ale to prevent infection, but Steve couldn’t move him like this. 

“W-why? So you c-can take me prisoner? Torture me for information?” The man spit in Steve’s face. “Fuck you.” 

“No.” Steve wiped the saliva off his cheek. “Because fuck the king. That’s why.” 

The man’s eyes rounded, his sharp gaze was less wolf and more human. His skin even warmed as he relaxed against the hay. 

“Those’re traitor’s words,” he said before coughing. “You’re a captain.” He pointed to the gorget over Steve’s sternum. 

“Yeah well, maybe I’ve seen enough people die for a man who’s too scared to fight his own battles.” 

The man tried to laugh, but it came out garbled and wet. He rested his head back, adam’s apple bobbing. “Welcome to the rebellion, red coat.”

“What’s your name, blue coat?”

The man flashed a smile, his canines glinting in the lantern light. With a wince, he sat up more, holding the bandages where Steve packed the wound. “Get me outta here alive, and I’ll think about telling you.” 

­

Normal ask meme

Nothing odd here, just some normal asks.

1. Where did you hide the body?

2. Favorite rock?

3. Worst dream you ever had?

4. Answer this with a lyric from the first song that comes to your mind

5. Does blood make you uncomfortable?

6. Even numbers or Odd numbers?

7. Something you hate that you love?

8. The first initial of someone you hate?

9. Make up an Acrostic for the word “Exsanguinate”

10. Do you enjoy corndogs?

11. Favorite movie from the year 2005?

12. Least favorite music genre?

13. Have any terrible restaurant experiences?

14. Three things that you would never want to come near you?

15. What is the worst way for you to die? (In your opinion)

16. any unsual habits?

17. One emoji that you probably have never used?

18. Write a three sentence horror story about a gatorade bottle.

19. Do you know what old bay is?

20. Can you dance?

21. What first comes to mind when you see rope?

22. Make an obscure reference

23. What is your favorite color for a balloon?

24. If you were ever to got court, would you most likely be innocent or guilty?

25. Are you hungry?

26. Do you have an unlucky number?

27. What does “JMD” stand for?

28. Random Inside joke?

29. What sends chills up your spine?

30. How many questions are currently in your inbox?

31. Someone (real) who scares you? 

32. Run or Hide?

33. Who is the last person who made you angry?

34. What’s going on in your head?

35. One little thing that makes you smile?

36. Are you a decisive person?

37. Would people describe you as a paranoid person?

38. What store would you be the least likely to be found in?

39. Do you like hats? If so, what’s your favorite type?

40. Bowties or Ties?

41. Who?

42. What?

43. Where?

44. When?

45. Why?

46. How?

47. Do you collect anything?

48. What time is it?

49. Favorite mode of transportation?

50. Would you ever kill someone to save someone else?

51. Make a joke

52. .eserver ni gnihtemos etirW

53. Would your dash be considered SFW?

54. Do you like to cuddle?

55. What makes you angry?

56. How many voices are in your head?

57. Do you consider yourself mentally stable?

58. Are you easily offended?

59. What’s wrong with taking the backstreets?

60. Any questions you want people to ask you?

When you’re depressed or sad, the worst thing to hear from someone you trust is ‘just get over it.’ So here’s what I want to tell you- your feelings are valid, you are allowed to feel whatever you want without someone belittling you or saying that you are crazy. If it was that easy to ‘just get over it’ we would. Hang in there and try your hardest to get through each day. Don’t give up hope that things will turn around. Because without hope, there’s just hopelessness.
—  A letter from me to you, because I need to hear it also

In light of the events of the latest episode, which I’m choosing to ignore, I thought I’d make a list of a few random Clexa facts about their life after Lexa survives the bullet, which is canon of course. So…

  • Clarke loves watching Lexa interact with the Nightbloods. Whether she is training them or teaching them or just listening to them, Clarke loves this side of Lexa, supportive and encouraging and never patronizing or aggressive, not even during the toughest training sessions. She often finds herself wondering if Lexa acts like this with them because she never experienced this type of support and kindness during her upbringing.
  • Lexa could spend hours watching Clarke draw. Eyebrows creased in concentration, tip of her tongue between her teeth, blue eyes shining with a particularly bright spark, she is both the cutest and most fascinating creature Lexa has ever laid eyes on.
  • Lexa is a lightweight. As Heda, even during special occasions or celebrations, she’s been taught that she must always keep her head clear. She almost never indulges in drinking and has never developed a tolerance for it. So when on a freezing winter day Clarke steals a bottle of wine and decides she and Lexa are spending the day in their room, eating and drinking and just relaxing, she finds out that it doesn’t take long for the Commander to get drunk. All flushed cheeks and bubbly laughs and surprisingly inclined to cuddle, she’s never been more adorable. Okay, maybe only when she’s hungover and she’s trying to look like she isn’t.
  • Clarke can’t use a sword for the life of her. She’s just terrible with it. But her aim is good, and she finds she is pretty good with a bow and arrow. After some time spent perfecting her skills, Lexa tells her even Anya would be impressed.
  • Lexa trains hard and often to keep her body strong and her reflexes sharp. First time Clarke stops by to watch her train, she finds herself completely enthralled by it. The elegance and fluidity of Lexa’s movements, the toned muscles rippling under the skin… it’s safe to say Clarke discovers a new turn-on. From that day on, whenever Lexa comes back from training, Clarke jumps on her and ravages her.
  • Clarke loves tracing Lexa’s tattoos and scars (yes she has scars) and asks the story behind each of them. Some reveal funny stories of a stubborn young Lexa climbing on a far-too-high tree just to impress Costia, and miserably falling from it. “Her laugh was worth the pain, though.” Others reveal sorrow of a young girl forced to fight and kill the kids she’d grown up with and considered brothers and sisters. Lexa doesn’t cry when she talks about her Conclave. Clarke wonders if it’s because she already spilled all the tears she had for them years ago.
  • Costia is a different story. Even if not an open wound anymore, even if Clarke knows Lexa loves her, she also knows the pain over Costia’s death will always be a part of Lexa. But she doesn’t want that to obscure any other memory of someone that was so important to Lexa. So, Clarke asks her stories about Costia. She makes Lexa talk about her, what she was like, how they met, the way her laughter sounded. She does her best to cleanse Costia’s memory for Lexa, so she can think about her and remember something other than pain and sadness.
  • Lexa doesn’t remember her parents. When she describes her family, she talks about Anya and Gustus.
  • Clarke cries when she talks about her father. Lexa holds her.
  • They both have an obsession for each other’s hands. Clarke loves how lithe and elegant Lexa’s look: how strong they are when she is gripping a sword or handling a weapon, and how delicate and gentle when she is caressing Clarke’s body. Lexa is in awe of how skilled Clarke’s are: how they turn simple lines of charcoal on paper into masterpieces and how they’re capable of healing people and literally bring life. Oh, Lexa loves kissing them a lot.
  • Sometimes they have to separate. Clarke goes back to Arkadia for a while or Lexa has to visit other Clans. They crave each other the whole time. When they’re back together, sex is always a little more desperate and passionate than usual.
  • One time a group of rebel dissidents kidnaps Clarke on her way back to Polis to use her as leverage against Lexa. It takes less than three days for Lexa to find her and rescue her. Bloodied and bruised, but alive. Lexa rushes her back to Arkadia so that Abby can heal her. Clarke has never seen Lexa cry like the moment she wakes up, but she is not surprised. She knows this is Lexa’s worst nightmare, she knows she can’t bear to lose her like she lost Costia. She knows, because she felt the same when a bullet meant for her almost killed Lexa.
  • They sleep wrapped around each other. Clarke rests her head on Lexa’s chest, finding comfort in the steady sound of her heartbeat, and Lexa holds her close with an arm.
  • They’re happy.
valentine’s day is a terrible day to confess your love

“So,” Maki raises an eyebrow, one hand on her hip and the other playing with her hair in that annoying gesture she always, always seemed to do when unimpressed. “What’s this, exactly?”

Nico hadn’t really prepared an answer – with chocolate in both hands, she would’ve thought the answer to be clear as day. Then again, Nozomi had warned her that probably the only person more dense than herself (thanks, fucker) was the girl in front of her, so, well, perhaps she should have planned for that.

Not that any of Nico’s plans had been going right today, mind you, so what the hell was a plan anyway?

“Uh,” Nico stumbles over words and over herself as she struggles to maintain balance, realising she’s reaching out a little far and Maki still isn’t reaching back to take the chocolates. She maintains eye contact for another few painful seconds before the other girl looks away, turning up the left corner of her mouth and creasing her eyebrows. Nico sweats.

“Uh,” she repeats, hands all damn clammy now, goddamnit Eli why did you make this sound so easy – “Chocolate.”

Maki stares at the poorly-wrapped chocolate sitting in Nico’s palms. It’s probably melting, considering just how unfortunately moist her hands have become under the stare of the most unsettling first year this side of Akiba.

“Homemade,” Nico adds, as if it weren’t perfectly obvious to all who had functional eyes that yes, the slightly melty brown stuff was chocolate, and yes, the clumsy wrapping probably indicated it’d been wrapped by hands equally as clumsy. Maki’s eyes are disconcerting, glancing to the chocolates, to Nico, to elsewhere and back, again and again.

Eli never mentioned just how nervewracking this would be. Nico couldn’t even imagine confessing to that sneaky asshole Nozomi – then again, those two were so incredibly disgusting with each other they probably spewed rainbows from their mouths and made lilies bloom around them when it finally happened.

No, the only thing blooming was the anxiety in Nico’s stomach as Maki continued to be evasive, leaving her standing in quite the uncomfortable position, prostrating herself. Then again, maybe this was just her fault because she’d kinda just shoved them in the girl’s face instead of doing something normal like saying “Happy Valentine’s Day!” or “I’m deeply in love with you, please marry me” or “I am so desperate to get in your pants you’re so hot it kills me I’m begging you”.

“I can see that,” Maki finally says, nodding to herself as if yes, that cleared everything up. Which it didn’t. Probably. You could never really tell with redheads. Or Makis. Or redheads named Maki. Yeah.

Nico wonders exactly how she’s going to explain this to the terrible two she calls her buddies – how she’d completely thrown any semblance of The Plan out the window the moment she’d frozen up until a purple gaze. Then again, The Plan had sort of been a wash from the beginning, considering how every time she’d tried to corner Maki alone in order to enact The Plan, some annoying ginger had waltzed along and ruined her chances of enacting The Plan (Nico made a mental note to kick Rin’s ass, later).

“So…” Maki trails off, halfway between making eye contact and staring at Nico’s open palms, still. Nico jolts back to life, stumbling over words and trying to make sense of her oh so conveniently clumsy tongue before –

“Valentine’s Day – Happy Day. For you. Yes.”

Ah, perfect. Just how she wanted to say it.

Before she trails away to curl up and die somewhere in a hole, Nico debates how best to ask Nozomi to scatter her ashes.

Maki, bless her, looks about as embarrassed for Nico as Nico feels herself, and blushes some pink that probably pales in comparison to the apparent luminescence of the shorter girl’s face. Seriously, she should be charging for the light she’s putting out.

“These are,” Maki hesitates, “for me?”

Nico nods, thanking whichever merciful god decided to give her a helping hand in the form of at least one of them being able to form coherent sentences. She doesn’t trust her own tongue to do the same, considering her last shameful display.

“Oh,” Maki says, voice cracking and freezes. Well, no, freezes is probably a little soft – it’s more like she self-destructs in a gentle, contained kind of way. Her face blossoms into a pretty miasma of blotchy red, and her limbs seize up, hands paused in front of her and mouth just a fraction agape.

Nico would have laughed if she weren’t in the exact same situation, so she instead opts for mumbling “Here,” and storming off.

She finds Nozomi eavesdropping behind the school wall, who promptly guffaws.

“I can’t breathe, Nico,” she wheezes, five minutes later. Nico stands there in despair.

Ten minutes later, Nozomi still isn’t together enough to stand.

(Maki drops the chocolates three times before managing to regain function of her body.)

Rhysand is the…

Prompt: Cassian and Feyre BROPT moments


“Cassian, what is this word?”

He didn’t ask, but Cassian rarely did, but she knew that look meant he was curious. “I’ve only been reading for less than a year, every so often a word trips me up and today I am just too lazy to go look it up.”

Cassian looked at her, with what she could best describe as shock, “Tamlin taught you how to read?”

She couldn’t hold back her laughter, “Cauldron no, Rhys did.”

He chuckled before he said, “You poor thing, did he make you write those stupid sentences too?  Those were the worst. Rhysand is this, Rhysand is that, I wanted to kill him.”

In her best Rhys voice, “Rhysand is the most cunning High Lord, or my all-time favorite, Rhysand is the best lover a female can ever dream of.”

“Well Rhys has always been a prick, mine were more along the lines of Rhysand is the best fighter.”

She shows him the word colonel.

“In all fairness that word does not follow any pronunciation rules, it is pronounced kernel.”


At dinner that night Cassian couldn’t help himself, “Could Rhysand the best lover a female could ever dream of, pass the potatoes?”

The worst thing is looking back in anger and thinking “wow, I could have done this differently” or “I could have done it better”. We avoid what we might grow to regret to a point where we don’t make use of the opportunities we’re offered because we’re scared of failing. Afraid of not being able to live up to expectations. Not necessarily somebody else’s, but more often than not our own. 
Anger we can take and live with. We can take being screamed at, being asked what the hell we were thinking, but we can’t stand being shrugged at with a cool expression, and being told that yes, we did not make it but that it’s okay. We don’t want disappointment. Especially not disappointment we harbour toward ourselves. There’s that certain line we cross, whether it’s a new job, an assignment we have to write or a new step in a relationship we have to take that makes us think “maybe I can’t do this”. It’s the fear of failure that grips us then, cold and unforgiving, and sometimes this fear is so overwhelming that we decide not to try at all. And this is the worst thing we can possibly do.
Where would we go if we stopped trying new things? If we bolted at every challenge because we were too afraid of us not being able to take it? Life is not about making mistakes - that’s too easy. It’s about accepting. Accepting mistakes you made in the past, reaching for them and shaping them into something new. It’s learning how to get better. It’s coming to terms with the fact that you’re a work in progress and that every day you should ask yourself one question: how can I be a better person? It’s about living around the fear, living with it, and learning that no matter how hard we fight against the prospect of failure, it should never be enough to get us to stop trying. Because living with the regret of wondering what could have been will always be ten times worse than failing could ever be.
—  n.j.

theendeavor  asked:

Hi! I wanted to know why you (and others) are upset about Joss Whedon directing Batgirl? I never heard he was sketchy before.

Omg Joss. My worst ex. My most tumultuous relationship with the greatest betrayals.

Here’s the thing about Joss. I was a PEAK Whedon fan, I was a devotee. I was really sure he was a dream come true. Here’s a dude making mainstream geek content who was raised by a serious feminist, who supports woman-devoted charities like Equality Now, who writes directly to my aesthetic by creating teeny little super powered female characters who can kick your ass up your throat. I loved Buffy, I loved Angel, I love Firefly, and Dollhouse, and even Avengers 1 for a long time.

So believe me when I say he deserves the anger that is directed at him.

1. Buffy is an interesting, deeply flawed peice of media with definite feminist aims, but it is also deeply racist, dabbles in various kinds of sexism, and riddled with problems.

2. I’d actually be alright with that existing in the mid 90s because I know what the atmosphere was in television and Buffy was legitimately hard to get made, EXCEPT- nothing about the way that Joss does things has changed since then.

3. In some ways his feminism is WORSE? Like he’s always had hangups about pregnancy and birth that were confusing and offputting, but he’s never had a female character call herself a monster because of her own infertility- until he did exactly that in Age of Ultron.

4. He literally gave a speech to a room full of feminists suggesting that we junk the word “feminism” because he was not a fan, completely ignoring that the word feminism A- doesn’t belong to him, as a man, B- acknowledges decades of history of brave and amazing women who have come before us to whom we owe so much.

5. His (rejected) Wonder Woman script basically features Steve Trevor as the main character who spends the whole movie teaching Diana about pain and suffering because apparently indoctrination into the patriarchy is the only way to fix WW. It’s also- bonus! Super homophobic!

6. EVEN HIS SHAKESPEARE ADAPTATION WAS SEXIST.

7. When faced with criticism for Age of Ultron, he had a mantrum on Twitter, blamed the studio for every problem, and then ragequit Twitter, leaving a bunch of his asshole male followers to attack the feminists he claims to support for chasing him off.

8. Firefly, his apparently “pure” vision that was not interfered with at all before it was cancelled, was a thin allegory of the reconstruction era FROM the perspective of a confederate captain basically galvanizing and idealizing the “Southern independence” lie that Americans push to pretend that the Civil War was not about slavery.

9. Literally thinks this shot is a good idea:

Originally posted by singfromthehair

Writing a Novel: Being Unafraid of Failure

Part of the writing process is definitely about having the courage to sit down and write 200+ pages of a novel, but more than that, it’s more recognizably about being unafraid to write something that could potentially be horrible. It’s something that most of us don’t talk about but it’s all somewhere in the back of our minds, “Maybe my book is unreadable.”

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punk goes pop au

fic prompt: in which Keith is famous online for covering popular pop songs and giving them a punk/early 2000’s emo twist. However, he doesn’t go by his real name and never had a face reveal, so his identity is virtually anonymous.

Lance is a music major and during late night internet surfing, he stumbles upon Keith’s cover of Beyonce’s Drunk In Love and is absolutely furious. How dare some jackass ruin his favourite song?! Out of spite, he creates a youtube channel and uploads his pop remix of MCR’s Welcome To the Black Parade & tags Keith, his description complete with “I fucking dare you to touch a Rihanna song.”

Keith watches the video, obviously outraged and that following Sunday, a punk rock cover of Rihanna’s Umbrella is uploaded onto his account. The intro includes “This is dedicated to some dickwad who messed with MCR,” followed up by a link to Lance’s channel. Hunk promptly shows it to Lance and soon enough the internet fucking explodes.

Cue an internet rivalry and highkey subtle shading turning into a slow-burn, mutual pining mess.

(And little does Keith know that the cute, blue-eyed barista near his college’s local Starbucks is his actual worst nightmare.

That is, until that very MCR remix blasts out loud while he’s standing in line and hears Lance, rather smugly, talk to his coworker about gaygane being a god damn asshole.

Add in a rather loud “YOU’RE SHARPSHOOTER69?!” and a broken coffee machine.)

“BATMAN IS NEVER JEALOUS” - Bruce Wayne x Reader

#5. “Who the fuck is this guy!? “My brother….” “Sure! Sure he is!”

Here we go for jealous Bruce Wayne, because that’s what this prompt inspired me to write. Boom, hope you’ll like it I’m a bit unsure about this one, feedbacks are welcome : 

(My masterlist blog here : https://ella-ravenwood-archives.tumblr.com)

_______________________________________________

Damian was a bit confused. Usually, on patrol, they would like…do things. Catch criminals. Stop bank robberies. Save widows and orphans.

Yes, Damian was utterly confused as to why tonight, his father and him were following…his mom. Not Talia. You. He never considered Talia his mother, he came to that realization the first time you made him hot cocoa and cookies after he had a rough day, and just…talked to him. Asked him how he was feeling. Just genuinely cared for him, something Talia Al’Ghul never did. 

She was his mother, but you were his mommy. 

And so, tonight, as he was jumping from a building to another, following you through the dark street of Gotham, he wasn’t really sure what was going on. 

Oh my God…Were you a criminal ? Was he going to loose you because his father was going to put you behind bars ? But he loves you ! How could he ? 

If it came to that, Damian decided that he would fight his dad, giving you enough time to escape. Yes. He would save you. There was no way he was letting his mommy go in prison, no matter what she did…

His father was talking to Dick about something happening in North Gotham. He then proceeded to call Tim to ask him to go to the docks join Jason because some big drug deal was going on…And once again, Damian wondered why they were tracking you instead of taking care of the real issues. 

He looked down in the street, you were at a small cafe, ordering a huge cup of coffee, that he knew was probably the blackest beverage ever. You liked it that way. But that’s it. You were getting coffee. Sure it was 10:30 pm but like, you couldn’t always just stay at the Manor right ? You’d be bored ! 

Besides, you were a writer, you often came to get coffee at night with your notebook, you always said it brought you lots of inspiration (he loved your stories, and was your number one beta reader). 

It wasn’t an unusual thing for you to be out, getting coffee (even if Gotham was dangerous at night, you knew how to defend yourself thanks to your Husband’s training, and besides, one of your sons kinda always had an eye on you anyway…just to be sure), so again, why were they here ? Why weren’t they on the docks, with Tim and Jason, to fight some real criminals ? 

Bruce refused to let Damian patrol alone so far, which is why he was with him, but usually, he’d explain what was going on you know ? Not able to contain himself anymore, Damian asked : 

-Father…why are we spying on mom ? 

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