stay evil, doll face

A/n: Second part to Claws and Claws

Bruce knew something was off the moment he stepped into the study.

There, in all its regal, long-haired glory, was a cat. A pristine Himalayan with piercing blue eyes and an expression that screamed entitlement. She was perched like royalty on the cream suede couch Bruce had custom imported from Italy.

She looked him dead in the eye.And refused to move.

“…What the hell is that?” Jason’s voice came from behind, armed with a broom like he was squaring off against a lion.

“That,” Bruce said slowly, “is a cat.”

“I know it’s a cat, Bruce. Why is it here? And why did she hiss at me like I burned her favorite Prada purse?”

Bruce sighed. “That’s my couch.”

“Was your couch,” Tim said, stepping in with a phone out. “She’s been kneading it with her claws for the last forty minutes. You can actually hear the leather dying.”

“I tried to get her off,” Dick offered with a helpless shrug. “She just growled at me. I think she’s possessed.”

“She is not possessed,” came your calm voice as you entered, holding a baby bottle and wearing flour on your shirt. “Her name is Cheesecake.”

Bruce blinked.

“Cheesecake?”

“She used to be Chanel,” you explained, setting the bottle down to adjust Martha in your arms. “But Thomas renamed her. Selina gave her to me.”

Damian, from the corner, raised an eyebrow. “Mother, that is a purebred Himalayan valued at $50,000. Selina gave her to you?”

“She stole her,” you said simply. “And a few other things. Because someone snapped the necklace your father gave me and called me fat at the gala.”

Bruce worked his jaw reminding himself to find out where that woman lived as every male turned to Bruce in unison.

Bruce just let out a deep exhale. “Of course she did.”

Jason snorted. “Okay, I take back the broom. That’s a damn power move.”

Cheesecake blinked lazily and flicked her tail as if she owned the room.

And then Thomas ran in—grinning, arms flailing.

“Cheeeeeeesecake!”

The cat instantly meowed, leapt off the couch, and strutted over to him with the grace of a queen answering her court jester. She let him pick her up, her giant fluffy body melting into his arms as he giggled and hugged her.

“See?” you said with a smile. “She likes him.”

“She tolerates me,” Bruce muttered under his breath.

Cheesecake glanced back and narrowed her eyes at him.

“I think that’s putting it generously,” Tim added.

⸻

That night, Cheesecake slept curled beside the baby’s bassinet, one paw gently touching Martha’s blanket. She purred when you tucked them both in.

Bruce peeked in later, only to find the cat hissing when he reached to adjust the blanket.

You gave him a kiss on the cheek. “She’s just protective.”

“She’s judgmental,” Bruce whispered. “She stares at me like Alfred when I’ve broken a vase.”

You grinned. “Well, she is Selina’s.”

And for once, Bruce couldn’t even argue.

“She belongs with Selina,” Tim said reasonably, arms crossed.

“Yeah, like… ethically,” Dick added. “We don’t need a cat that hates us and shreds furniture for sport.”

Jason grunted. “She hissed when I looked at her. Looked, not touched. That’s not normal behavior.”

“She prefers women,” Damian offered flatly. “Clearly. And Todd is a disgrace. The feline has standards.”

Bruce was quiet for a moment, arms folded, brow furrowed as he glanced toward the study door where Cheesecake had once again claimed the sunniest spot on the couch like a furry queen.

“Maybe it’s better if Selina takes her,” he finally murmured. “She’s not exactly a Wayne family pet.”

What none of them noticed was the small figure just outside the hallway.

Thomas.

His little socks too quiet on the tile.

His favorite sippy cup dangling from one hand.

His bright eyes wide as saucers.

He only caught one part:

“Maybe it’s better if Selina takes her.”

Cheesecake was his best friend.

His nap buddy.

His secret-keeper during bedtime stories.

The one who sat with him when he was sick and let him use her fluffy tummy like a pillow.

And now…

They were taking her away?

⸻

By the time the boys heard the soft hic and sniffling gasp, it was too late.

Thomas burst into the room—red-cheeked, lips trembling, eyes overflowing.

Cradling Cheesecake against his chest like a knight guarding a princess, he wailed:

“You c-can’t t-t-take her! She’s my baby!”

Fat tears dripped down his cheeks as he hugged the cat tighter.

Cheesecake, surprisingly, did not protest. She simply rested her paw on his shoulder and glared at everyone like they were dirt under her designer paws.

“Sweetheart—” Bruce tried, stepping forward.

Thomas backed away, still crying.

“MoooooommYYYY!”

⸻

You were in the kitchen, humming as you cut strawberries for a tart when a small, trembling voice wailed:

“Mamaaaa! They wanna take Cheesecake away!”

The bowl clattered to the counter.

You turned—flour still dusted on your sleeves, hair pinned up, eyes soft—until you saw your son.

Red-faced. Tears pouring. Clutching the Himalayan cat like his life depended on it.

Your entire face changed.

The scowl was instant.

“What,” you said slowly, voice sharp and dangerous, “is going on?”

Bruce, frozen at the kitchen door, opened his mouth—then closed it.

The boys shuffled behind him, suddenly very interested in the tile floor.

“Well?” You arched a brow, hands on your hips. “Why is my baby sobbing about you trying to give away his emotional support fluffball?”

Jason pointed at Bruce. “It was his idea.”

“Coward!” Damian hissed.

“I’m sorry,” Tim whispered.

Dick held up his hands. “In my defense, I just said ‘ethically.’ I didn’t mean logistically.”

You knelt beside Thomas, brushing back his curls, kissing his forehead. Cheesecake meowed softly and licked his chin.

“She’s not going anywhere, honey,” you whispered. “Cheesecake is yours. And she loves you.”

Thomas sniffled. “Promise?”

“Pinky swear.” You held out your pinky. He linked it solemnly.

Then you stood. Turned to the rest of the family.

“If any of you suggest giving her away again, I will hit you with my wooden spoon.”

“You don’t even use it,” Bruce muttered.

You smiled sweetly. “Not for cooking.”

⸻

Later that night, Cheesecake slept curled up between Thomas and baby Martha. Her fluffy tail twitching contentedly.

Thomas had stopped crying hours ago.

But Bruce still flinched when he passed the wooden spoon on the counter.

Thomas Wayne was a benevolent ruler.

Kind to animals. Generous with snacks.

He shared his toys, his juice boxes, and even the good blanket.

But today?

Today… his kingdom had fallen into disgrace.

Because they—his traitor brothers and his big scary daddy—had tried to banish his most loyal companion.

Cheesecake.

The fluffy, snooty Himalayan cat who only purred for him, baby Martha, and Mommy.

And now?

Now they would suffer.

“Good morning, buddy,” Bruce greeted, crouching next to Thomas’s booster seat.

Thomas turned his head dramatically away.

they should all go to a rave they absolutely should not that place is getting demolished

+ was he blackmailed? is he into it? who knows

3am dinner

(Armand/Daniel Molloy)

'Armand and Daniel have a conversation about Armand's fangs, why they're the way they are, and how, by vampiric standards, they're a disability.'

Complete - Rated G - 2,641 words

Written for @vcmicroficmay

Prompt: Afterglow

Pairing: Devil's Minion

Words: 997

Rating: E

Armand presses him against a wall, burrowing his face in his neck and kissing his throat as Daniel glances around the place. Yes, he’s been here before. “I designed it after the Villa dei Misteri in Pompeii, remember? That’s where we first tasted each other, my love. Remember?” Daniel’s eyes roll back as Armand grinds against him. Fuck. Daniel does remember.