I think Deku has a bit of a mean streak, actually. he’s no Bakugou—that’s for sure—but he’s not this innocent, sweet angel baby that the media has painted him out to be. but you only catch it when you least expect it, when you’re pushing his nerves, when the stakes to everything around him are high, when he’s tired of endless sleepless nights and just—snaps.
“Oh?” you go, grin unfurling like some grinch, chin resting on your hands as you leer at him from across his expansive desk. “You’re mean.” your words are teasing, a snarl that curls your mouth up. Deku stutters, eyes going wide, jaw snapping shut in surprise as he tries to think back on how rude he just sounded.
“No, I’m not—I mean, you wouldn’t stop and I just—there’s a lot on my plate right now—and you just—you keep on—I’m not—I’m not mean.” He’s sputtering, hands all over the place, the glasses perched on the bridge of his nose falling even lower with how he jabbers on and on. it’s endearing really, to see how he tries to upkeep his image of being so kind and understanding, even though his nostrils just flared at you. and his eyebrows turned down and he gritted at you, his hands were balled into fists, his words were so nasty, so ugly, so unbecoming for Deku.
you liked it. loved it even—vowed to get him like this every single fucking second that you could.
you pick and poke at him whenever you see him, teasing him and pulling at him. pushing him around even though the hero is so much stronger than you, so much bigger. and he lets you, tries to defend himself but—that’s not what you want. you want the ugliness, the snark, the mean.
he snaps, eventually, when you least expect it. grabs you up in black whip when you go to push him against the wall for the third time in only a minute, his eyes suddenly dark, the aura of the room suddenly charged.
“That’s what I was looking for.” you whisper to him, the grin spreading your face quickly dissipating in only seconds when you become the prey. when you become the one pushed up against the wall with teeth at your neck, a hand in your underwear, bullying your hole with too thick fingers.
“Why do you want me to act like this? Be so mean to you, huh?” he sounds so frustrated with himself, with you, growling and nipping and licking when you don’t answer quick enough. but your breath is caught in your lungs because finally—finally, did you get what you wanted. it just took a little bit of pushing, you suppose.
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I want an AU where after Jason gets brought back to life, he channels his inner rage and turmoil into the academics instead of murder
Talia has like infinite money and a crap ton of influence, so she can absolutely get Jason the best tutors and can easily get him into the most prestigious schools if Jason wanted to (she doesn't need to do that though because Jason's just smart enough to get into them on his own)
The major he chooses? Med.
Why? Because Bruce dropped out of med school.
Jason practically flies through all the secondary education that he needs to catch up on and is already en route to earning his bachelor's AND his master's.
And it'd be so incredibly funny if the way Bruce and Jason reunite in this AU was purely by coincidence.
Bruce (as Brucie Wayne) offers to show up as a guest lecturer at Hudson University (the school Dick attended but dropped out of so double points for Jason), maybe to talk about future career paths and job positions at WE idk
So as Bruce is just wandering around the campus, he randomly bumps into a student and immediately puts on the Brucie act and is all "Oh my, I'm SO sorry, I'm just a klutz haha" only to stop dead silent when he makes eye contact with a very alive, very grown Jason Todd, who also stops dead in his tracks, mouth agape, staring at Bruce like the world's about to end
And before Bruce can get his thoughts straight, Jason just bolts out of there like his life depends on it, and Bruce is just in shambles for the rest of the day.
It doesn't help that the person giving Bruce the tour is all like "Oh yeah, that's Jason, he's one of the heads on our student council haha, anyways, this way, Mr. Wayne." and Bruce is just stood there bluescreening.
----
Alternatively, it'd be kinda funny if this all happened AFTER the events of UTRH where after the final encounter with Bruce and Joker and the whole explosion, Jason's just like "yk what, maybe I'm just gonna turn over a new leaf and pursue a higher education"
So while Gotham's still reeling from the aftermath of Jason's near takeover as the top crime lord and Bruce is still painstakingly trying to figure out where his son went, the whole time Jason's just been chilling on a school campus and Bruce just so happens to bump into his son (who, last time they met, tried to kill Bruce and blew up the building they were all in) and Jason's just all normal-looking with his textbooks and nerdy glasses and Bruce doesn't know whether to scream or cry.
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🦋
x. polite because no one deserves to be purposefully treated rudely. kind because kindness keeps a person gentle. sweet because making people smile is uplifting. helpful for the same reason. supportive because if you dont have anything nice to say, it's extremely easy not to say anything at all. above all, do unto others what you would have them do unto you.
o. polite because it's the best way to fade all the way into the background. kind because i'm too afraid to let myself be cruel. sweet because of overwhelming&pathetic desperation to make people happy. helpful because it's too exhausting to cause waves. supportive because other's goals are a great distraction from my own. above all, a smile makes the best camouflage as long as no one can ever see you sweat.
x. lonely+isolated because of mental+physical health restrictions. i miss people-- i miss being surprised, i miss relating to people on any level that isn't abject pain. i miss connection, communion, community.
o. alone+introspective because it pays off to be so. i don't miss people at all-- in fact it is a true sign of growth that it is not my knee-jerk reaction to say that i hate them for everything that (an admittedly small sampling of) people have done to me.
x. i am so terrified of communication at this point, &traumatized by Other People just in general, that i regularly shut my notifications off on everything because the sound of any form of notification ring that i recognize can literally kick off vicious panic attacks and send me running for dark corners, lmao. i am pathetic-- but i am a survivor.
o: i am charming, fun, &social to varying degrees dependent on the work. i am adaptable, everything from the center of attention to support staff with ease. smiling through blood in my mouth&talking to basically anyone for minutes to hours is child's play-- literally, since that is when i learned it.
x. pride over the skills i've developed over a lifetime of nonsense. made possible by mania, perhaps.
o. shame over the skills i've developed over a lifetime of nonsense. put off by disassociation, definitely.
x. i am kind and small and smiling and invisible. please just leave me alone. please don't even look at me, i literally cannot bear it, i just want to be alone again, please do not hurt me, i will do anything to make you happy if you just promise not to hurt me.
o. i am vicious and bloody and loud, and i will make you look at me, i will make you see me. i will give you a reason for that sneer, &i have no problem giving and taking blood in the process. my blood is worth so much less that i will win this no matter what-- i am braver than you could ever be because i have nothing that i'm afraid i'll lose.
x: i just want to make people smile.
o: i just want to never see another living person ever again.
x: like me, like me, like me. please just like me. i just want to be safe from abject hatred. i just want to be likeable. i can be anything, anyone-- it isn't like i want to keep all my parts, anyway, just tell me what i need to toss to be normal. just tell me what to chop off to be loveable.
o: i will give you every reason to fucking hate me if that is what's going to happen, anyway. i have spent a lifetime becoming who i am, usually against my will-- i can finally look in the mirror without flinching, &i won't let anyone take that away from me. you'll pry my forced self-acceptance out of my cold, dead hands.
x: i have been so lucky. i have been so fucking lucky. every single day i am reminded of all the many ways it could have been worse, things could have been worse, life could have been worse. i am so lucky. i owe the red string everything for letting me finally be someone i like sometimes.
o: i might have been lucky, but somehow i doubt anyone treating my gratitude or happiness like a red flag would be capable of living a day in my life-- or any singular one of the days i've lived thus far. but i can definitely give them a taste if that's what they need to wipe the snide looks off their faces. i'll hate myself after for giving in to the temptation, though. i always do.
x: there's good in everything. if you look for it, there will always be good somewhere. you just need to look. happiness is a conscious decision. kindness is a conscious decision. being a decent person is a perpetual and conscious decision.
o: there's bad in everything, too, and the second i see it, i cannot unsee it. or forgive it, usually. why is it so much easier to see how much people fucking suck?
x: i want perfection. practice, constant effort, dedication-- i need perfection, i'll get perfection. if i can't, what's the point? if there's not even the possibility, what is the fucking point? how am i supposed to live if i know my lifelong goal is&always has been unattainable?
o. perfection isn't an objective possibility. how many times&different ways do i need to fail at the impossible reality before it actually settles in. it isn't possible. i'm dedicating my life to an impossible pursuit. more specifically, i'm committing myself to eternal&constant punishment for failure. why, though. why am i like this.
x. i hate myself so much sometimes i feel like i might actually lose my mind.
o. i am so full of pride sometimes i feel like i might burst at the fucking seams with it all.
x. i am terrified that i'm not capable of living unless it's fighting uphill. who am i without the struggle? who am i past the trauma?
o. if fighting uphill is what made me what i am, what does it matter if i never lose the edge? why should it matter if i need the extra motivation? if i can handle it, why should the struggle be a bad thing?
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