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Hm. Lot of discourse in the American psycho fandom lately. Not a fan of that

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Don’t mean to sound like an ass but about that 8 year old Dick Grayson/Robin in the Nolanverse art…..???

Hi anon, I’m going to be transparent with you, the brief but intense fixation I had on the Nolanverse has fizzled out. It’s pretty damn difficult for me to finish a piece that I’m not ‘into’ if that makes sense. I’m happy to chat over DMs if you’d like but this is the last ask I’m taking regarding this art request.

So uh, PSA I guess—if you send me an ask about drawing something specific, please don’t expect that I’ll necessarily get around to it. I’m a grad student so I’ve got a pretty hectic life outside of my fandom involvement. I’d also be happy to open up commissions if that’s something people are interested in. I don’t want to be an asshole, but it’s A Lot when I get repeat asks about a drawing request.

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Rereading American Psycho and god. I forgot how fucking autistic he is.

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Ok this is a lil stupid but uh…..AP Jennifer’s Body au where Patrick is chosen to be a sacrifice after a band kidnapped him during a work event where the bar was set on fire mysteriously but the ritual was a bust and now Patrick is an incubus and now Luis has to stop him before he eats anymore men he can get his hands on

Bonus: Paul as Colin in the “mommy and daddy” scene and Patrick eating his guts out in the silhouette

Not stupid at all and anon, while this is not something I’d likely write for, I’m obsessed with this idea. Someone out there please write something for this because I will gobble it down :))

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How does Patrick feel about the patients who have a crush on him? Like from women or men or anybody?

TW for homophobia & Bateman’s usual brand of violence

On the whole it depends on a few things. I think a male patient showing interest in him would make him freak the fuck out. At best he’d sort of shut down and cut the appointment short (and would probably be seen shortly afterwards in the bathroom vomiting and having a full on breakdown); at worst he’d get aggressive with the patient and inflict real harm. Of course, like in the source material, his behavior is almost certainly because of being deeply, deeply repressed.

With women it depends mostly on whether or not he finds them attractive tbh. If he thinks the patient is hot, chances are he’ll find a way to sleep with her. In my mind he’s even gone so far as to turn appointments sexual if the patient makes a move first. I still don’t think he’d be particularly nice to these types since he still sort of intrinsically thinks of all of his patients as disposable and beneath him.

If the woman isn’t someone he finds attractive (or is someone he finds highly unattractive), his behavior truly just depends on how the patients behaves towards him and the state he’s in on a particular day. On a good day he’d either just shut the patient down or would just deal with being super uncomfortable for the rest of the appointment. On a bad day he’s liable to lash out either verbally or by insisting some procedure is done right away so he can do shit like botch it on purpose or not use enough anesthetic.

[peepoo79]

saw your post!!

we need the luis carruthers hospital!au lore 🤍🤍

Ask and ye shall receive

Luis is a psychiatrist in the AU unlike the others (all surgeons) so you just KNOW he’s getting shit for a) not doing surgery and b) not being a “real doctor.” While I think from a “complying to the source material” perspective it’d make more sense for him to be a surgeon of some kind (maybe urology or maxillofacial), I just think this fits him vibe wise lol. Besides half the fun of an AU is getting to depart from the source material some :))

He’s still hopelessly crushing on Patrick though—he absolutely goes out of his way to run into him in the break room, go to him for consults (which given how far removed from surgery his field is, is almost always unnecessary), and generally find ways to be in his circle. Like Luis in the book, he can still be fucking crazy at times; one scenario that is canon (in my mind) is that Luis once booked himself an appointment with Dr. Bateman under a pseudonym just for the one-on-one time an exam typically entails. Of course, when Bateman opened the door to the exam room to see his colleague perched on the table, he obviously (very harshly) refused to indulge Luis’s request

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What would be the equivalent to the coveted Fisher account in Hospital AU?? A certain surgery??? 👀 does Patrick specialize in something specific?? I love this AU so much dude 🙌

Oooo good question. So background, in this AU a lot of Pat’s insecurity comes from the fact that he didn’t match into plastic surgery for his residency and was stuck in general surgery (which makes notably less money and is much less glamorous). That being said, in my AU Paul is a plastic surgeon, which in and of itself is a huge source of the many feelings Pat has towards Paul. I don’t think there’s an exact analogue, but I think the residency/specialty they each matched into is probably the closest.

However, I think a much funnier and canon-compliant option for the AU equivalent is that it’s just some rich housewife who keeps going to Paul for boob jobs or something, making him a shit load of money

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hi guys I'm bored. Anyway send me asks about my hospital AU. I want to yap about it

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ohoho I feel fucking CRAZY

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I haven't forgotten about this movie jsyk

@fawn-star I remember you asked me about this🎀

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Quick study I did while bored at work recently :3

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American Physician

Ch. 1–Student

AN— hi guys I’ve never written a fic before so hopefully this doesn’t suck too badly. If Bateman is horribly out of character…oops <3 anyway without further ado, here’s the hospital AU fic as promised :D

TW: dead dove do not eat—this fic will likely get pretty dark given the source material it’s based on. Will include medical malpractice/abuse, abuse of power, Bateman being himself in the worst way, etc.

***********************************************************************

It’s 6:42 AM. Seated next to me are two of my colleagues, Dr. Timothy Price—cardiothoracic surgeon, Harvard medical school alum, and my former roommate—and Dr. David Van Patten, an orthopedic surgeon who I think graduated from Columbia. The cab is cramped and smells like stale cigarettes. Typically, I’d avoid taking a cab and would opt for a private chauffeur, but my usual guy is visiting family in Nicaragua or Venezuela or some other country like that. I stare vacantly out the window as Price and Van Patten hold an overly loud, meaningless conversation. I’m hungover today, which while not out of the ordinary is still uncomfortable and leaves me feeling particularly on edge.

“Bateman, are you listening?” Price says, interrupting my train of thought.

“No, Price, I obviously was not.” I answer flatly, my attention focused on the gathering of bums —5, maybe 6 of them huddled around a fire—that we pass at the corner of 17th street and 7th Avenue.

“Whatever. I need you to settle something for us, yeah? Van Patten over here thinks that prescribing high-dose ibuprofen for post-op inflammation reduction is preferable, hell, more correct than prescribing naproxen. It’s like, basic knowledge that you prescribe ibuprofen.”

I roll my eyes.

“It’s the same shit, Price. They do the same thing.” I turn to face the two of them. For a moment, I almost wonder if I heard him correctly. What a stupid fucking question.

“They’re both NSAIDs. They do the exact same fucking thing.” I find myself practically hissing this at the two of them. “Both drugs reduce inflammation by inhibiting COX enzymes, preventing the production of prostaglandins, therefore preventing the inflammatory response from occurring.”

Price snickers.

“Woah-ho, relax. We were just fucking with you. Chill out,” He says, pulling out a cigarette and placing it between his lips. Irritated, I turn back towards the window. I’ve got a relatively slow day ahead of me, no actual surgical procedures scheduled, only consultations. My least favorite part of this fucking job. I pull a bottle of Xanax from my pocket and take two, choking the pills down dry.

***

I arrive at my office at 7:00am. I’m listening to Songs from the Big Chair—a remarkable album by Tears for Fears—on my Sony Walkman when I get a knock on my door. I begrudgingly open the door to find Jean, the head of nurses on the unit, standing in front of me.

“Dr. Bateman? There’s a student from Columbia who says she’s scheduled to shadow you today,” She says as if it’s a question rather than a statement.

“A…student?” I repeat incredulously. “You’re mistaken. I never approved any request regarding a student shadowing. Tell her to leave.”

“Patrick, she’s already here, just…give her a chance—“ I quickly cut her off.

“No. Tell. Her. To. Leave.”

I turn to walk back to my desk, pinching the bridge of my nose in frustration. The last thing I want to deal with today is a goddamn pre-med following me around like a lost puppy. I turn back to Jean, who’s still standing lamely at the door.

“Oh, and Jean? Be a doll and run down to the pharmacy and pick me up some Advil, my head is fucking pounding.”

“Yes sir,” she says with what seems like an exasperated sigh as she closes the door. A few moments later, I hear another knock.

“Christ, what now…” I murmur to no one in particular as I make my way to the door. It’s too soon for Jean to be back; chances are it’s Price or some nurse or maybe even Evelyn coming to pester me, but to my surprise, it’s a girl I don’t recognize. She’s okay looking, in her early twenties, and has fried, clearly unprofessionally dyed blonde hair.

“Can I help you?” I finally ask, not bothering to mask my annoyance.

“You’re Dr. Bateman, right?” She asks. Her voice is slightly low for a woman and a bit raspy, possibly from smoking.

“No. He’s uh, not here.” I begin to shut the door when she steps in the way. I scowl at her.

“You’re lying, I can see your name on your badge.”

“You need to get your eyes checked then. Leave before I call security.”

Before I can slam the door on her she thrusts a document towards me. I snatch it from her and glance at it…something something, approval to shadow…something something…approval signed by….me. Fuck.

“Where did you get this?” I hold the paper up in front of her like it’s a piece of spoiled meat.

“From the dean, he met with you like, last week. You agreed to let me shadow, it says it on the paper.” She punctuates this by pointing a thin finger at my signature at the bottom of the sheet.

I wrack my brain trying to remember ever having lunch with the dean of whatever the fuck from Columbia. I sigh.

“Right…right…the uh, dean. I remember now,” I lie.

“So I can shadow you today, then?” She asks eagerly. I pause. Regardless of the paper that I may or may not have signed, I had no intentions of allowing a student to follow me around today. But, she’s…okay looking, and blonde….and probably naive and possibly single. There's a potential for entertainment.

“Fine. Just…stay out of the way.“ I agree. She seems relieved, although it’s almost certainly misplaced. She extends her hand towards me, but I make no move to return the handshake.

“I’m Tiffany, by the way.”

“I didn’t ask.”

She shrugs. This annoys me immensely, but I choose to say nothing. Instead, I silently sit back at my desk and begin to half-assedly read through patient files. The girl—Tiffany—flops onto my couch and pulls out a stick of gum. She unwraps it, pops it into her mouth and begins chewing it loudly. For a few seconds, I tolerate it, but I quickly become annoyed and stand up from my desk and approach her, looming over the couch.

“Spit that out. Right now.”

She glares at me and continues chewing.

“No. It’s a free country, I can chew gum.”

I clench my jaw, fighting the urge to bash her skull into the wall behind my couch. I inhale deeply and manage to momentarily steady myself. I crouch down to her level and get close enough that I am surely invading her personal space.

“Listen to me. While you are here in my office, on my unit, you do what I say. Otherwise, you can forget about getting any letters of recommendations from me. Hell, I can make sure you can’t get into any reputable medical school in the country. Understand?”

She stares at me for a moment, then huffs and gets up and walks to the trash can, spitting out her gum. I give her a terse, fake smile in response. I look down at my watch—I’ve got a consult in 5 minutes. I grab my white coat off the hook on my office door and then my stethoscope from my desk, draping it around my neck. I turn and face Tiffany.

“We’re going to room 3 for a patient consult. I expect you to stay out of the way and keep your mouth shut until after it’s done. Understand?”

She nods silently.

“Good. Follow me.”

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my favorite american psycho meme ever. nothing will top this

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Just a normal guy who never, ever commits acts of heinous violence or egregious medical malpractice 🤩

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Chat should I try writing for my Hospital AU

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You uh still alive or…?

Alive yes but busy as fuck also yes 😭 between work and moving I haven’t had much free time, hopefully one day I can get back to posting regularly :,)