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#SHIFT AT WORK LIKE JUST TELL ME IVE COME SO FAR FROM WHERE I WAS LAST YEAR (bad panic attacks every day) AND THAT I JUST NEED TO BREATHE AND

batwritings · 7 months

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Kinktober Day 10 - Fingering

Back at it again! Sorry for the delay ya'll. ^^; Enjoy!~

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You’re not entirely sure why you’ve had this fascination all these years. It was nothing weird, granted; you had a fascination for hands. Again not in a weird way, but you could see the beauty in them where others couldn’t. The stories that were told by every bump, scar, and line in them was something that drew you in and wouldn’t let you go.

That’s part of why you became a medic in the military. You knew these men and women got beat to hell and back, and often times on their hands. You wanted to see what they had seen if only through a brief glimpse of the battered flesh as you patched them up with gauze.

Enter Task Force 141, and more specifically Lt. Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley. You could tell by the mask that the man had seen his fair share of warfare amongst other things in his life. And this was no different when he came to you in the medbay one evening.

“Can I help you lieutenant?” you asked, sounding far too chipper for someone working in your field. You watched chocolate eye blink slowly, and a heavy sigh get muffled by his mask. The man holds up his left hand that was slowly oozing from a few different places. You stood immediately, ushering him onto a stool beside yours and grabbing your gauze pads and wraps. “What in the hell happened?”

You worked slowly, seeing his hand truly from outside a glove. “Cooking accident,” Ghost answered plainly, with a hint of annoyance. “Soap urged me to see you.” You nodded in response, careful not to stare too long or ask questions as you covered his finger and palm.

“Good that he did,” you smile at the man. You put away the excess medical equipment neatly in your smaller pack. “You’re right as rain. I know that’s not your dominant hand but that wrap job shouldn’t impede your movement in any way.” Ghost gave you a quizzical look and it truly dawned on you what you’d said. “Ah, I-I’ve gotta clean up the rest of the medbay, so…I have to ask you to leave Lieutenant. We’ve uh, got that big mission tomorrow anyway!”

Ghost left without a word and you sighed heavily. You really should be following his lead and taking your mind off what came out of your mouth. Sadly, the distraction followed your mind onto the field the next day, leading to the very same lieutenant dragging you out of the line of fire.

“Thanks for the assist today Ghost,” you mumbled as you sat in your own medbay. You had a cast on your right leg for the next ten weeks thanks to your carelessness. The man shrugged, now in what were effectively his civvies.

“You take care of us the rest of the time,” he retorted. “You should get to be taken care of once in a while.” You watched with growing awe as the same calloused hand you’d patched up last night tilted your chin up. Your entire body froze; his skin was so warm against yours, beautiful hands handling you so gently. “Thought this was what you might like.”

You jumped a bit, thankfully with minimal wincing due to the pain meds when you felt Ghost’s other hand slide up your thigh. “Just relax and let me handle you for a while,” comes that low, gravelly British accent. Thick, war torn fingers slip beneath the waistband of your regulation sweats and beneath the confines of your underwear. Your breath hitches when he finds the most sensitive part of your sex, hip raising to meet his touch.

“Eager are we?” Ghost teases, and despite the fact that you can’t see his face, you swear you hear a smirk. You whimper in response, trying to shift so you can pull down your pants and undergarments to watch. The lieutenant catches on quickly, helping to pull down the fabric while being mindful of your iv.

You lay back, content when you can actually see the way Simon’s beautiful hands touch you. “That’s it sweetheart,” he rumbles, the praise making you whine a bit. You’re mesmerized, in shock even. It just baffled you how hands that could be so brutal, could take lives in the blink of an eye, could be so gentle and soft with you.

Meanwhile Ghost would watch your reactions for every spot he touched. Every gasp, every jolt of pleasure that made your body jerk, every little bit were noticed by patient brown eyes. He couldn’t help but chuckle when you would meet his curious eyes and immediately look away.

Eventually the man grew tired of simply playing with you; he wanted to see more. Thick fingers found their way to your hole, and couldn’t help but smirk in amusement when your eyes grew wide. “P-please,” you whimpered, completely blissed out. Ghost leaned forward, pressing a muffled kiss to your head as he pushed one finger in.

Your hands flew to his shirt, gripping tightly to hold him close. The lieutenant could’ve sworn you thought he’d disappear, yet here he was, fingering you gently. When he felt you were open enough, he added a second, thick finger. He’d be lying if he didn’t feel so turned on by you gasping his name openly, forgoing titles or call signs.

“Si–” you whimpered, hips rolling in time with the man’s thrusts. “Please, I’m so close–” Ghost contemplated making you wait, completely removing his fingers from you just to hear you whine. Yet he took mercy on you, speeding up his pace and curling his fingers when he was fully inside you.

The pressure, the pleasure, the overwhelming of your senses sent you over the edge quickly. Yet your eyes staying trained on those beautiful hands, working you through your orgasm. Only once you fell back onto the medbay cot did he stop waiting for you to catch your breath before he would remove his fingers slowly.

Simon stepped away briefly to rinse off his digits and dry them before he’d return to you. He pet your head and even pressed another muffled kiss to your forehead. “Good thing I know how to take care of you too hmm?” He chuckled.

“With those hands? Any day.”

#bat writes #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #cod smut #cod x reader

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kining-the-evil · 1 year

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Darling, You’re The Luckiest Person In The Room

Summary: You and Johanna watch the announcement for the 75th Hunger Games

An: This was a Request, but it got deleted so i had to rewrite it

Warnings: Yandere!Johanna, reader has been kidnapped by Johanna, physical anger, emotional abuse, Alcohol drinking, fem!reader

Johanna had been antsy for the past week. She wasn’t an overly relaxed person as it was, but when it got close to the Games she got worse; and the Quarter Quell wasn’t helping. She was barely sleeping, Coming to bed late at night and being long gone when you woke up. When she left the house it was for short periods, and when she was home she was short with You. Given That She was the only person you saw, it got boring quick.

“It’s starting.” You called out from Where You were sitting on the couch. The broadcast showed Snow, already giving his bullshit speech on the Quarter Quell, how It’s a reminder of the rebellion and how the capital is strong and all of the other bullshit with it.

“Why should I care?” She had a cup of whiskey when she walked in, and despite her comment she sat down next to you. Normally, she would pull You to her side, keeping an arm tightly wrapped around you. But she didn’t today. Instead she left a few inches of space between you both.

“…and so, for this years Quarter Quell the tributes will be reaped from tue existing pool of victors for each district.”

Your eyes went wide at his words and Johanna’s body tensed. That couldn’t possibly be What He meant. The couch shifted lightly as she sat up next to you.

“Johanna-“ your words were cut off by the slight scream You let out when she threw her cup across the room.

“Mother fuckers!” She screamed while standing up. “How fucking dare They!” You just watched as she yelled, stomping around the room. She picked up a vase and threw it, making it shatter on impact.

“I win the game,” a vase is smashed. “I’m told they’ll leave me alone,” a chair is tipped over. “And They do something like this!” You jumped to your feet when she smashed a mirror.

“Johanna!” She finally stoped her pacing to Look at You. “Just…Take a breath-“

“I swear to god y/n, if you tell me to calm down I will break your fucking neck.” You fully believe her threat, immediately closing Your mouth.

She paced for another few minutes, mumbling to herself angrily. You were too afraid to move, not wanting her anger to be directed at you.

“Do you know how lucky you are?” She had walked towards you, looking stray at you.

“Lucky?”

“Ya, Lucky. I risk My Damn life to keep You Here-“

“I Never asked you too.” You pointed out to her. Her Hand shot up to grip your chin in her hand. Her nails dug into your face lightly, making you let out a small yelp.

“If i didnt, Snow would have killed you. I give you the best food from the capital, You don’t Ive to work, You live in fucking luxury! So ya, you are lucky.” As she talked, a bit of spit Shot into your face causing you to flinch. Her eyes were Nothing But anger, And for a Moment you wondered if you’d finally pushed her to far. But she just pushed you away lightly.

“And remember, if they choose me, who’s going to come back here for you?”

—————

Your eyes were glued to the monitor in front of you. Johanna had left earlier that morning, leaving you completely alone in the house. The first tributes were being picked, and it had finally gotten to distract 7.

“For the women…Johanna Mason!”

“No…” A single tear ran down your cheek as You Tried to proses The information. There We’re other victors, What We’re the chances She would Be chosen?

“No,” you mumbled agin, This time standing up. You ran to the front door, trying to pull it Open. It was locked.

The back door? Locked.

The windows? Every single one locked and covered.

Everyone knew what happened after being chosen. A short goodbye to any family, and immediately boarding the train. Johanna would be gone, and no one would knew you were here. The odds were not in her favor, and apparently they hated You Even more. She was going to die in the Games, And You would die alone im the damed House.

You spent the rest of the day going through the house, seeing what you could find. Johanna must have woken up early and restocked food for you. There weren’t any weapons in the building that could help you, nothing to get you out of the house. Did she really think you’d survive being locked in the house like This?

You grabbed a bottle of alcohol and started towards the living room when something banged on the front door. You froze, unsure of what to do. You couldn’t actually Open the door, so If They wanted in they’d have to break tue door down. But That was the next question, who was it? No one came near the Victor houses, and all the other victors were on their way to the capital.

You started to open your mouth, but quickly shut it. What would you say? You didn’t have long to think of an answer because there was a large crash sound from the door, and the door practically collapsed. You jumped back when 5 peacemakers stormed their way in.

“What’s happening?!” They didn’t answer you, but two of them went to your sides and they each yanked an arm back to lock together.

“Are You y/n y/l/n?” You nodded at the one who spoke, and he smirked lightly. “Well, congratulations. You Get to See What the capital looks like.” He motioned for the men to leave, and they dragged you along with them. From one captor to another.

#hunger games x reader #hunger games #johanna mason x reader #johanna mason #yandere!johanna mason #yandere #request

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1d1195 · 9 months

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Protection IV

Read Protection here.

Lots of angst this chapter. More unaware pining for one another. 6.5k words.

Objectively, she was beautiful like a rose and smelled pretty like one too. It didn’t seem like a bad thing to be nicknamed after one but she looked as if he just called her the c-word.

Niall had been working for DSS for a year shorter than she had a security detail. When he arrived at his desk job, he was assured that The US Secretary of State’s daughter would never come to the office. As far as everyone knew, she had no idea where it was. Moreover, she hated everything that this office stood for so why would she ever set foot in it?

However, the second her hand touched the building door. Niall swore he knew. Everyone knew. The air got colder the room darker. If it were the 1600s, someone would have cried witch.

Niall really only knew because this twenty-something girl walked through the door, running pants, a long sleeve athletic shirt, a sporty headband wrapped around her forehead to keep the sweat from beading off her face. She wasn’t a smidge breathless as she walked to the front desk. Niall happened to be on his way out to his lunch break but again, was stopped the moment he saw her enter.

“Uh, hello,” there was a new secretary behind the main desk. This wasn’t really a drop-in service kind of business—especially for someone like the young woman who clearly just popped in during the middle of her run.

She was pleasant, anyway, to the woman. The poor thing had no idea she was talking to the daughter of the top person this bureau serviced. Niall peered around the half-wall like the scaredy cat he was, unable to look away for even a moment but too scared to pass by her for the door.

Harry had the day off—that must have been why she was here now. He probably had no idea she was here. Harry often took shift after shift keeping an eye on her, telling his relief was unnecessary. Sometimes he would work 24-hour shifts just to keep the department happy and of course no one minded missing their time spent with her.

Although 24-hour shifts hadn’t really happened since her terrible night out just over a week and a half ago.

Normally, they would have fired Harry. They had no choice but to send his supervisor out to her—while Harry was trapped here, relaying the story, and explaining the paperwork that he had written—but she was insistent that she wanted Harry to stay. In fact, Niall read the notes from the meeting and she said, "he saved me from something terrible and if you fire him and put someone new, you'll regret it."

Niall felt at the time it was a good idea to pat himself on the back. She liked Harry. That was a good thing. That was what DSS wanted. Someone that she wouldn’t fight with as much. Someone she wouldn’t run away from. Harry was his closest friend as well, and so, when it came time to find another new security member for her, who better to recommend than Harry?

Harry never seemed to mind her antics. Harry’s family, like Niall’s, was back across the Atlantic Ocean. Most of Harry’s friends lived throughout the country apart from Niall. Niall, who also liked his job, was often chained to his own desk and work so even when Harry did have a day off, it didn’t always mean he could hang out with Niall.

So why not hang out with her? She just sleeps and studies. Harry had told him when Niall inquired why he would take so many overlapping shifts. Didn’t he need sleep? Didn’t he need space from her?

“Hi,” she chirped to the poor woman who was surprised this cute, twenty-something young woman. It was like a train wreck. Niall should have alerted someone, maybe even Harry, but he couldn’t look away. Definitely couldn’t spare a glance to text Harry about it. “I was wondering if I could speak to the supervisor in charge of Mr. Secretary’s security detail?” She was all eyelashes, adorable. It had been ages since he’d seen her in person—at the time she had just graduated high school--she still seemed so girlish when Niall was fresh out of college, finding his way around the office he stood in now. Now she was this beautiful young woman.

No wonder Harry doesn’t mind seeing her all day long. She’s easy on the eyes.

At that moment, one of their agents burst through the door behind her, out of breath. Hands on his knees as he gasped for air the secretary looked at the girl who didn’t even bother with her attention toward the man behind her. “Uh...I...I’m sorry, Miss. That’s private information you’re looking for. And he doesn’t really take visitors.”

“I understand, ma’am. However, my dad is Mr. Secretary, so I feel like he’ll make an exception for me.”

Oh, this poor woman was going to have a heart attack. She grabbed her office phone immediately and quietly, but terrified, explained the situation.

Calmly, she stood by the door looking at the different plaques and pictures. Niall’s phone vibrated with a message from Harry. Do you want to go to the pub or something to watch the game? Drink some? Niall went to answer but got the feeling he was being watched. He looked up to see the girl staring back at him. His breath caught in his throat, like he was caught in a horror movie and the monster just saw him. “Hi, Niall,” she smiled brightly with a wave.

What the fuck?

The agent behind her was still gasping for breath but looking at Niall like he had betrayed the entirety of DSS. The secretary was shocked at the sight of Niall as well. “Uh...hi, darling,” he answered awkwardly. “How’s your day?”

“Oh, it’s fine. Just thought I’d go for a jog.”

“A sprint,” the agent grumbled. Niall could see why Harry thought she was funny. “Lost her by the park. Why are we here?”

“I just want to ask a question,” she said with a simple shrug. The poor, anxious woman was shaking as she brought her a glass of water (and one for the agent who clearly needed to hit the gym if he was going to chase after this girl). “Thank you,” she smiled kindly.

For years Niall heard nothing but scary stories of her and her behavior. Harry told him nothing but funny and cute stories of her well-decorated apartment and their movie marathon. There was no way the two entities were the same girl.

Niall knew her of course. He wanted to know how she knew him because Harry didn’t seem like the type to spill personal information like that. “I asked Harry if he had any friends. He mentioned just you, said you worked in the office of this horrible place. So I found you on Harry’s Linkedin profile and then compared you to a picture I found on his social media. Like I told Harry, you should change your last name to your middle name so it’s harder to find you,” she shrugged.

He opened his mouth to speak but the supervisor came flying out of the other room. “Hi, what—”

“What the fuck did you say to him?” She snapped, narrowing her eyes at him.

Oh, Niall loved her. A live show to her two personalities—the nice one that Harry raved about and grumpy one that he only ever heard about at work. Harry’s supervisor looked downright nervous. It never ceased to amaze Niall how this young woman could scare the life out of grown men.

“To who?” He shook his head in confusion. The poor secretary stared at her desk unable to look at anyone. Niall felt for her. He should have returned to his desk, but he was frozen in place watching her.

“Harry, obviously. You guys finally get a decent person in charge of my security. Someone I can actually tolerate and then you yell at him for something that wasn’t even his fault? We actually had a pretty decent thing going. I was just coming around to the idea of sending you guys actual Christmas cards instead of glitter cards,” she rolled her eyes. Each year several people (it was like magic how she knew which few to select) in the office received a card from her. It was always a different return address--never her own. Always looked like one of those a holiday business coupon cards. For some service in the area, and each year they were tricked. Left covered in glitter and with a printed card that said Happy Holidays, but the L was a middle finger emoji.

They fell for it every single year.

“Miss,” he said calmly. “If I can—”

“Are you going to fire Harry?” She interrupted angrily.

“Do you...want someone else?” He asked immediately.

Niall thought she would strangle him if she could. She closed her eyes so tightly, he worried her eyelids might snap. At once she flashed them open. “No, I don’t. But you told him something after that night. You made him all weird,” she frowned. Her voice took on this new tone. One that Niall didn't know she possessed. It was almost...awe-struck. “He barely talks to me," she sounded...upset.

“Surely that’s a good thing,” the agent muttered behind her.

She ignored him but Niall could see she was even angrier at the notion. “Do you know that 6-8% of men and women have reported having their drink spiked at least once in college? It wasn’t Harry’s fault," Niall felt a certain amount of gratitude for her, knowing that she was trying to defend one of his best friends. Even if he was still terrified of her. He could hear the anguish in her voice. It was like she was pleading a case. Hoping that the man in front of her understood how much he had hurt Harry and she didn't care for that at all.

He pressed his lips together. “Why did you come here, Miss?” He asked gently.

“If you fire him or he quits I’m going to do way worse than glitter,” she promised and turned right back out the door. “You always blame me for everything. Always! The one time it was my fault I’m suddenly the one in the right? You’re all infuriating. Enjoy the paperwork,” she grumbled turning out the door sharply. Niall believed the door didn't slam solely because it couldn't. If it could have slammed shut, he definitely believed she would have.

The agent followed after her, still struggling a bit with his breathing. But the moment she left, he swore the room got warmer, the light a little brighter. There was palpable relief in the air. “That girl is terrifying."

Niall couldn’t wait to tell Harry about it.

“Do you have a codename for me?” She asked. They swapped out their normal rom-com for a more dramatic-action movie. It caught her eye because it involved a security detail for a political official. She gave Harry a knowing smile and he rolled his eyes with a shrug. “Whatever y’want love.”

It was dramatized beyond belief, of course. Especially when she considered how she was probably one of the most boring people to keep watch over. Given they were literally watching a movie together. Other than her short hospital stay that is. Since then, she was keeping a low-profile. Just as she had thought, her “friends” didn’t really seem to care. But even with her beliefs confirmed, she kind of preferred these quiet moments with Harry. Especially after her talk with DSS.

While they watched, her gaze drifted over to Harry every so often. She enjoyed the way he rolled his eyes at any scene that broke his precious protocol. Harry thought it was funny how they always had secret codenames to describe the person they were keeping watch over. Especially since it was public knowledge.

It seemed she and Harry were on the same wavelength. Hence, her inquiry.

“Uh...The Department calls y’Rose sometimes, but m’not too sure why.” he shrugged. The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them. He had no idea why, but he hated the way she frowned immediately. She looked at her lap, twiddling her thumbs together silently. Harry could see the vulnerability plain on her face. It seemed like she stopped breathing. It appeared he wasn’t going to get a follow up either—at least not voluntarily. He paused the movie to turn toward her fully on the other couch. “S’matter, love?” He hoped his voice was equally gentle, not too pressing. Despite her low-key couple of weeks, Harry was still wary of anything that might set her off. She was agitated still—rightfully so—but he was grateful she was merely agitated with his constant worry. Part of him believed she was maybe even a little fond of it.

She was silent a moment longer. “They still call me that?” She asked so quietly, Harry had to strain to hear her voice.

He didn’t know why they called her Rose. He thought it was pretty. It reminded him of Titanic, one of his favorite movies he used to watch with Gemma growing up. Objectively (but also very much subjectively on Harry's part), she was beautiful like a rose and smelled pretty like one too. It didn’t seem like a bad thing to be nicknamed after one but she looked as if he just called her the c-word. “What do y’mean?”

She bit the inside of her cheek. “They started calling me Rose because they said I looked so pretty on the outside...so it distracted people from all the thorns and injuries I cause.”

Harry didn’t like that one bit. He thought a federal agency should also have a bit more class than that—especially if she found out about it.

“I know I’m annoying, but they really just don’t like me,” she explained. “They protect me out of courtesy and obligation. I’m hoping I can make them sick enough that they’ll just leave me alone.”

Harry tilted his head at her. She was annoying at best. She escaped a lot. Required endless paperwork to be done. But she was 24 and as far as he knew, no one had given her an ounce of grace or privacy regarding her role as the Secretary’s daughter. Especially in the last seven years in her role.

“I never wanted the detail. My dad was insistent. Especially after my mom,” she murmured.

She never really talked about her mom. There were no pictures of her on social media and not a lot by way of Google searches. “Where is your mum?” Harry asked.

She looked at him with her more regular, usual, irritated expression. “Seriously?”

He glanced at her in confusion. “Uh...yeah.” She stared at Harry, still irritated for a few quiet seconds. It occurred to her after Harry didn't respond or break the silence that he was in fact serious. She was surprised he didn't know.

Her expression changed from irritation to this wistful, forlorn one. “She died...well...personally, I think she was assassinated but apparently since she’s not a politician it doesn’t count. And of course no one believes me nor asks for my opinion.”

Harry blinked. He thought about his own mother. One of his best friends. The person that texted him without fail every time he felt anxious about an important meeting or the first day on a new job. The one support system in his life that would say honey bun, it’ll work out, no matter how bleak the future seemed in that moment. When there was a girl, Harry told his mum before anyone. If he was feeling poorly, mum gave him a soup recipe that was sure to cure him.

She didn’t have that.

That was a tragedy.

Clearly, she didn’t get along with her dad. He wondered if he would get more insight on that if he could maintain this kind of relationship with her. Harry found all her anger and her attitude suddenly tolerable. No wonder she was so...her. The poor thing.

“Christ, love. M’sorry.”

She shrugged. “S’whatever.”

Harry didn’t know what to say. He was speechless. How do you console someone over something like that? Harry had more questions. Did they wipe it from the internet? Was it traumatizing beyond what was expected of something like that?

Was she there when it happened?

After another moment of silence, she pressed play on the movie. Neither of them spoke for a minute but Harry couldn’t bring himself to focus on the movie. When she began speaking once more, she didn’t pause the movie again. But she broke Harry’s heart. “Sometimes I think they wished I died instead of my mom.”

Again, he was so overwhelmed with worry for her mental well-being he didn’t really know what to say. He certainly didn’t think he could try and console her. Moreover, he didn’t think he would say the right thing. Still...Harry felt compelled to speak. “M’sorry they call you Rose, love.” She didn’t acknowledge him. Kept her eyes on the screen. “Think you’re much more of a Wildflower,” he mumbled under his breath.

That got her attention. She turned away to look at Harry, her eyebrows pinched together the way he worried would cause her a headache. Her lips pursed into a scowl. “Is that a joke at my expense? Seriously?”

He shook his head quickly. “No, fuck,” God, Harry sucked with words sometimes. He felt his cheeks warm a bit in embarrassment that she was acknowledging his words—and more so misinterpreting them. “Sure...they’ve got this ‘wild’ side. But...s’because they grow anywhere. They’re strong,” he shrugged. “They’re bright too...light up the side of the road even if the road isn’t pretty...they don’t need a lot of...care from others. But they’re gentle anyway. Even when s’hard t’be growing under difficult circumstances,” he was kind of rambling.

She really liked what he was rambling about. Warmth spread through her body as he explained himself; there was a sure flutter in her heart that shouldn’t have been there. Harry was being much too kind. Especially when she already tried escaping at least a half dozen times when he was present. Even when she knew she was being a miserable brat each time she did it.

He thought she was strong and gentle.

Of course, the most Neanderthalic part of her girl brain pointed at an invisible neon sign flashing with the words that Harry (someone who was so objectively hot, she would have killed anyone in her path to throw herself at him if he wasn’t in charge of her security detail. If he was just a regular guy she met on the street) thought she was pretty.

“Oh,” she said looking back at her lap once more. “That’s...” she cleared her throat awkwardly. She swallowed, feeling tears fill her eyes. That was by far the kindest thing anyone had ever said to her. Especially since she started needing a security detail. Especially from someone on her security detail. “Thank you,” she rolled her lips into her mouth looking at the opposite wall. She refused to cry because of Harry. And if she was going to cry it was not going to be in front of him. All because he said a few nice things about her comparing her to wildflowers.

Flowers that were obviously pretty—and Harry knew flowers more than any man she had ever spoken to. His comparison of the flower was strong but still gentle...?

Fuck. She couldn’t not cry.

“Are y’alright?” He asked wearily while she had this battle with her sympathetic-nervous system to keep from crying.

“Yeah...” she said and got up from the couch marching down the hall to the bathroom. She turned on the sink and let out a choked sob as she covered her mouth. It had been ages since someone said kind things like that about her...maybe since her mother passed away.

There was a knock on the door only moments after. “Y’okay, love?” Harry asked.

She nodded, forgetting he couldn’t see her. Trying to keep the tears at bay she squashed the emotion from bubbling in her throat, “Yeah...” unsuccessfully as her voice broke. “Just my mom,” she lied.

She couldn’t see him, but Harry felt like an ass making her upset. Then he felt madder that DSS made her upset. He was going to tell Niall to get everyone to stop calling her Rose immediately. He pressed his head against his arm, leaning on the frame of the bathroom door. “Y’sure?” He asked. If she wasn’t someone he was responsible for keeping watch over, he would have strongly considered yanking the door off the hinges and holding her until she stopped crying. Maybe get her a chocolate bar—the kind she always grabbed at the checkout line.

“Can you just go away?” She snapped.

Harry sighed. It always felt like one step forward and five steps back with her. “Yeah. Sorry,” he mumbled and retreated back to the sitting room.

For her benefit, he pretended he couldn’t hear her crying. Even though it hurt him almost as badly as when he was feeding her peanut butter toast.

She had been grumbling for ten minutes. Scribbling interrupted by moments of typing furiously. When she studied, Harry was used to the way her method took up the entirety of the sitting area—nearly both couches, the coffee table, and the floor in between. She sat on the ground, not the sofa. If he weren’t scared of her when she studied—the only time he thought that she was truly scary unlike the rest of DSS because she took studying so seriously—he would tell her it looked like she was having a séance and asking for some biochemist of the past to help her.

But whatever she was doing tonight finally came to a head. When she threw her notebook across the room. Harry had paid almost no mind to her grumbles and quiet curses under her breath up until then. He looked up from his computer with a smirk.

He was running the latest background check on the boy that had asked her on a date—Harry did not approve but it wasn’t his place to judge. The guy was too childlike and didn’t even ask her what her favorite food was and insisted they go to a local seafood place even though she hated seafood. She thought she was being stealthy, but he overheard her telling one of her girlfriends about the date he had planned for her.

His gaze returned to his screen. “Your poor notebook,” he mumbled quietly acknowledging she was upset but so as not to piss her off. She wasn’t doing it for Harry’s attention—again, he knew better than to mess with her study techniques.

“I’m not in the mood, Harry,” apparently, he was still messing with her method. “They save this class for last just so they can withhold degrees, I swear.”

“Love, you’re probably the smartest person I know,” he shook his head. “You’re gonna do well no matter what,” he shrugged simply. He truly believed that.

She ignored his compliment. She didn’t like the way it made her stomach flip—especially after the whole Wildflower discussion. “My brain is fried, and I have an exam first thing in the morning...and it’s just...” She sighed. “It’s so hard sometimes,” she mumbled.

Harry looked back up at her and tilted his head. “What’s hard?”

She glanced at Harry and then looked at her fingers like they were trying to tell her something. Harry didn’t press further. If she wanted to chat, she would. Without speaking, she went to fetch her notebook heaped at the wall and returned to her seat on the floor by the coffee table. Harry assumed she wasn’t going to talk to him about it. That was fine, he went back to his computer.

It was silent for a few moments other than Harry’s quiet tapping on the keyboard in front of him. But she didn’t move, no more scribbling or typing on her end. After what seemed like an eternity, she spoke again.

“No one...” she took a deep breath, shaking her head and then tried again. “I’m just my dad’s daughter,” she told him. “No one ever wants to hang out with me because I’m always under a microscope. It’s why I go out and do stupid things because it’s the only time I feel normal. I know it’s not good for me...I mean look at what happened a few weeks ago. People only want an in with Mr. Secretary,” she wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Or...they want money...money that I don’t even want because I don’t think it’s fair or right that everyone around me works so hard...and struggles to pay for things,” Harry thought she might be the kindest soul he knew. Even when she was a pain in his butt.

“Do you know I picked this school because it was the cheapest in the city? I worked so hard for every scholarship I could get in high school, and I still took out a few student loans even though my dad told me it made him look cheap not paying for me. I’ve always paid my aunt the cheapest rent she was willing to bill me. She was going to just have me keep an eye on this apartment that she doesn’t even use. But I don’t want people to think I’m the spoiled brat that everyone believes I am. I found an online transcriber job because no one in their right mind would hire me for an in-person job. Someone that always has a full detail of security around her. I work almost thirty hours a week doing it in between class and studying. I know I’m extremely lucky and fortunate. But I don’t take anything from him. I don’t want it. People don’t see that though. I’m just the daughter of the US Secretary of State. In their eyes, my path was paved before me even though I was the one that built it for myself.”

Harry frowned. He never thought about what it must be like to be the child of a top political official. He wondered why she was always going out and trying to escape. It didn’t make sense with her brilliant mind and her hidden, but still somehow sunny disposition.

Despite all the horror stories, this was his favorite version of her. The real her. The one that told Harry things and made herself a bit vulnerable. The empathy he felt for her in that moment was overwhelming. She was seated back on the couch looking over flashcards. Her brow pinched together the way he hated.

“I know everyone told you I was a brat. I know I’m a brat a lot of the time. I don’t mean to be,” her voice cracked a little on the words and Harry watched as the background check on the boy came back clean. Nothing of note. Harry scoured his social media profiles and other than a bit of college binge drinking, he didn’t find anything scary enough to dissuade her from seeing him other than his personal belief that he was a terrible option. “I’m sorry I give you a hard time. I don’t mean to. I’m just...very lonely. Everyone in this class had a person to help them study except me. Because no one wanted to be associated with me.”

Harry closed his computer. Maybe it was a bad idea. But maybe her rant was her way of getting Harry to feel sorry for her so he wouldn’t realize when she was making a run for it again. This reprieve of going out each weekend couldn’t last forever. This date was proof of it. For the last few weeks, he had been enjoying the painless following her; while she ran errands, watched movies, or he spent the time listening to her clean, watching her study, and work around her apartment. However, his mum would be ashamed of him for not trying to care for the poor thing when she was all upset. Slowly he made his way over to the couch with the least amount of study materials on it. “Tell me ‘bout what you’re learning, then,” he shrugged and sat on the sofa.

She stared at him. “You can’t seriously want to help me study.”

“M’not doing anything but sitting there. May s’well make some use of me. Maybe you’ll teach me something.”

There was a pause. She gnawed on her lip nervously. “Yeah?”

He took the flash cards from her hands. The electric currents he felt as her fingers brushed his was overwhelming. He took a moment to steady his breathing (and his heart) as he admired her pretty neat handwriting. He smiled as he read over the words. “I don’t even know how t’pronounce this, love, s’like gibberish. Maybe I won’t be much help,” he remarked. "What is this? Halloween-genisis-candy canes?"

She giggled and looked at him gratefully. “Thank you, Harry," she said releasing a breath she didn't even know she was holding.

“Of course, love.”

"And it's Hallogenalkanes."

She didn’t notice when Harry fell asleep because they had taken a break from him quizzing her so she could reread the study guide once more. It wasn’t until the flash cards fell from his hands that she realized it was well past midnight. She smirked at him snoring quietly. He was pretty cute when he slept...and wasn’t constantly on her about what was correct protocol. She grabbed the cards into a messy pile and placed them on the coffee table. Careful not to wake him, she quietly collected all her study materials and added them to the haphazard pile on the coffee table as well. Gently, she threw a blanket over top of him, and she swore she could see him sigh, face smushed against the back cushion.

She should have gone to sleep in her bed for the mere few hours she would get her mind to settle before waking up for her exam. Sleeping in her bed would be better for her brain. But despite everything, Harry helped her. Really helped her.

Plus, if she went into her room, she could only imagine all the noise Harry would make in the middle of her REM cycle in the few short hours she had once he realized he had fallen asleep. She imagined he’d attempt to rip every door off its hinges before he concluded that she was just asleep in bed.

Instead, she scribbled a note to leave on the bathroom door for him, brushed her teeth, then grabbed a pillow and another blanket off her bed. Returning to the free couch, she made herself comfy; sure to be in full view of Harry so when he opened his eyes, she would be the first thing he saw.

When he did wake up later—completely broken that he fell asleep because it’s so unprofessional and so not protocol he could scream—he was immediately relieved to see her beautiful, sleepy face facing him on the other sofa. He rubbed a hand over his face, irritated with himself. But this is his other favorite version of her. The gentle, worriless, pretty girl he can’t help but start to really like.

Realizing that protocol was next to impossible with this girl, he had one little back and forth silent argument with himself deciding if he should leave her be or take her to her room. But she had an exam in the morning, and she deserved a comfy bed. It had been weeks since he had to hold her, cradled in his arms, and it felt so effortless now. He tried not to think about how nice it felt, especially now that there was no danger. In her sleep, she nuzzled her face against his chest, and he definitely felt a pang of...well that emotion was definitely not protocol.

He brought her to her room, carefully laid her on her bed and covered her with plenty of blankets because he definitely wasn’t going to be trying to wrangle the sheets and duvet around her. He felt an absurd amount of adoration as he tucked her in and he tried to shove it as deeply as possible into his chest.

Once her door was closed, he turned and found the note taped to the bathroom door. It wasn’t as neatly written as her flash cards, but somehow, he found this handwriting even more beautiful. It was loopy—not quite printed, not quite script. Harry had watched her doodle and scribble a lot over the last few months. He knew that she ended a lot of her doodles with little hearts, she signed birthday cards to her friends with a little heart at the end of her name every time. But he found the little heart at the end of her note to him the most precious thing in the world.

Thank you for the help studying. I won’t tell anyone you fell asleep. Don’t worry, I managed to brush my teeth without any kidnapping nor dying. I hope you sleep well.

Harry--becoming fully aware of what was happening to his heart and why but couldn't be bothered to stop it anyway--smirked, felt the dire need to call his mum about her, and put the note in his wallet.

She had completed her exam and looked terribly exhausted. Harry typically followed about five steps behind her. He found she usually liked to grumble to herself about whatever she forgot in class or if there was an issue with the exam itself. But today she was quiet and after a few steps outside the flow of traffic of most others she turned to wait for Harry to catch up. “Coffee?” He asked. She shook her head and continued in stride with his steps. She didn’t speak. Just walked alongside him.

Fortunately, it was getting cooler, so her leggings and long sleeve sweater were no longer out of place. Harry, however, looked like a spy, forget agent. He wore black dress pants and a crisp white button down and black tie that she could see due to his open black leather jacket. She wanted to ask if he had a date after he got done here because he looked really good.

But that made her think about Harry dating, and she felt so jealous she thought she might gag at the idea and trying to ask him. “Y’okay, love?” He asked gently opening the passenger door.

“Hmm?”

“Y’kinda...squeaked? I don’t know.”

Shit. “M’tired,” she mumbled not looking at him as he went around to the driver’s side. “You look nice,” she continued staring out the window. “You have a date or something?” She smirked unable to contain her curiosity.

Harry had this laugh that made her insides turn to mush. His laugh didn’t go on and on for ages, but the first few notes of it were like the melody to her favorite song. He didn’t let it out all the often. His “movie” laugh, as she liked to call it, was much more subdued and frequent.

But right now she got his real laugh, her favorite song. Even when it shouldn't have been. “I don’t really have time t’date all that much. I do have a meeting this afternoon t'discuss...your dad coming next week.”

She bristled at the idea of her dad coming to town. She couldn’t decide if she would rather he didn’t come at all. But it was Thanksgiving and he had facades to display and people to impress that he and his only daughter had a happy life even though they suffered such terrible tragedies. “Oh,” she was quiet a minute. Harry stopped at the coffee shop drive thru despite her protest because he knew she had work when she got home and her left eye was drooping more than the right. She was grateful for that because her original intention was to go home and sleep for an hour, but Harry seemed to know what she wanted better. “Why do you have to be there? Aren’t you just mine?”

Shit, shit, shit. That was not how she should have said it.

Harry smirked, ordered his and her usual, leaving her in agony as she thought about the prospect of Harry being hers and what his reaction was regarding this information she blurted out awkwardly. She didn’t want to further acknowledge it, finding interest in the parking lot outside her window instead. However, she could see the way Harry mulled it over with excitement in his eyes. “I am jus' your agent,” there was a smug little dimple on his cheek that she wanted to smack off his face. Her heart took off even if she wanted to wipe his shit-eating grin off his lips. “But...m’the only one who doesn’t celebrate Thanksgiving...so s’kinda like I’ll be in charge of everything, so people can have their holiday with their families.”

That seemed like a big deal. Even from her perspective. Harry in charge of it all, even for a day. “Oh, wow,” she said blinking. “Is that something you...want?”

“I’d much rather jus’ focus on you if that’s what you’re asking. Think m’starting t’have you all figured out, love.” She resented that. She liked being a mystery. Or a pain in the butt, and what have you. She took the coffee cup he passed along to her and scowled even though her heart was a mess knowing Harry just wanted to focus on her.

Within seconds, she was a bit down about it. Her heart settling into a miserable pattern instead. If he did a good job at this, he would probably be up for promotion. Which was probably something he wanted. He would probably leave her detail and she would get stuck with someone new who didn't help her study and complained when she needed help hanging up her floral stuff. “Y’okay?” He asked again. She certainly wasn’t about to tell him about her fear of abandonment again.

She shook her head. “Fine. Just...I don’t know, we’ve still got an hour of that movie left. Thought we were going to finish it today,” she muttered.

“Sorry, love. Maybe tomorrow?”

“Don’t you have tomorrow off?” She asked.

He frowned. “Oh right,” he sighed. “Well, whenever we—”

Her phone was connected to the SUV so she could play her music when they drove around, so it quietly alerted the pair of them that her father was calling. She looked at her phone for two rings, closed her eyes, sighed, and answered. “Hi, Dad,” she said gently.

Harry had never heard that tone before.

She listened, nodding, muttering quiet “uh-huhs,” every so often. “Good, I had an exam today,” her voice was quiet. Timid. Harry was so surprised she even knew how to be timid. “So...when do you fly in?” Harry saw her shoulders deflate just a hair. “Oh,” she mumbled. “No...s’fine. I can...go to a friend’s or something. Yeah. Yeah, of course,” she nodded. “I love—”

Harry saw the call ended on the little screen before she finished her statement. She dropped her phone in her lap and looked out the window. For thirty seconds there wasn't a sound in the car except for the tires on the road. “Pull over,” she said softly. Harry could tell she didn’t want to have to ask twice or be asked questions.

But he had to try anyway. “Is everythi—”

The second Harry was parked, her door was opened, and she was sprinting down the sidewalk. Harry nearly lost his bearings in the sudden change in her demeanor. She didn’t even close her door. He struggled to get his seatbelt off and hurriedly closed their doors before running to catch up to her. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he groaned. Fortunately, his strides were two of hers, so he was able to catch up to her quickly before she turned down the next street. Even in his leather jacket and dress pants. He hoped he didn’t look terrible for his meeting later in front of The Secretary. “Love, what the hell are you doing?” He asked and grabbed her arm pulling her back toward him before she could run any further. She stumbled a bit, Harry steadied her before she was yanking her arm from him. Her gaze was directed away from him. It was then he noticed how misty her eyes looked--even just the view of her profile. “Hey,” he said gently. Much softer than he probably should have because he was supposed to be mad at her. “Love, what’s—”

She shook her head and swallowed. “My birthday is Wednesday; do you know that?” She whispered. He nodded—of course he did. He actually bought her a book he saw that he thought she’d like. Along with her favorite kind of gel pens and journal with flowers on it. He didn’t even mean to get them, but he was at the bookstore on his day off and he couldn’t stop thinking about her flowery apartment when he saw the journal. He wanted to buy her the whole bookstore if he was honest but didn't know what to do with the misplaced emotions and so just stuck with the three little items. “Dad doesn’t remember. Ever. Even though it’s almost always right before Thanksgiving.”

Harry didn’t know what to say. Mum began the count down two weeks before his birthday each year. She would give him updates of the contractions she got the night before his birthday every year, retelling the events for the last twenty-nine years. She told him that “right now, I was having a bowl of cereal. I think that’s what did me in. Swore you didn’t like the kind I chose and wanted out.”

“I’m sorry, love,” he said quietly. Why did she run? “But—”

“He’s not coming. He’s...I don’t know what he’s doing, he didn’t really say. Said he couldn’t make it,” she croaked. “You’re not having your meeting today. I’m sorry,” like it was her fault. “You’re gonna be stuck with me all by my miserable, lonely self and—” She choked on a sob. She didn’t even cry like this when she came to, at the hospital. The only time she ever cried like this was when it came to stuff about her dad. "I'm sorry," she whimpered. "I swear to God he doesn't even love me," she sobbed. "And I don't even know if I love him most days but I'm his daughter," the anguish in her voice hurt Harry more than all the paperwork he ever had to do. It might have hurt more than the night he watched her in the hospital. Harry’s job was to protect the daughter of the US Secretary of State and it seemed like the only protection she needed was from the very same person. “I—”

“I’ll be there,” he promised. He just wanted to stop the tears. But it was true either way. They pulled so hard on his emotions seeing her so distraught. At least when she studied and worried, she wasn’t doing well, he could remind her she was brilliant and help her study. How did he comfort her when she was lonely for affection, and he was just supposed to be her security agent? “Love,” he practically cooed, he couldn’t take it. Gemma would be so helpful right now if she were here; stroking her hair and telling her she looked pretty or suggesting something useful like stuffing their faces with chocolate cake. Or shopping until their feet hurt. Harry felt useless. There wasn’t much he could do except pull her toward him and wrapped her in a hug. She sobbed against him openly.

They must have looked like quite a pair on the sidewalk to the few people passing by as she blubbered into his shirt. His nice pressed shirt that she was staining embarrassingly with snot and tears. She clung to him instinctively wishing she could disappear behind his jacket like a magic trick.

He rubbed her back soothingly, as best he could. “I know, m'sorry, love,” he murmured. “I know,” his voice was gentle as he repeated his sentiment to her. “M’sorry." It wasn’t enough. He wished he could do more, say more. Despite the stares, no one really seemed to mind the way she cried into his shirt. Harry’s phone was vibrating with messages—probably relaying information she just gave him of his cancelled meeting. “Wanna go finish our movie?” His voice was quiet. She nodded, sniffled and wiped her eyes as she pulled away from him.

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

He shook his head. “S’okay.”

“Sorry I ran.”

He shrugged again. “Y’didn’t get far.”

They were quiet as they headed back. A few stray sniffles wracked her body every few steps. “I outran an agent once on your day off,” her voice was a little stronger and they walked back, side-by-side toward the SUV up the road.

He chuckled. “How come?”

“Didn’t think he could keep up,” she shrugged. “He couldn’t by the way. Is there no like...physical fitness test? Like I can’t even run that well so the fact he was struggling...” she trailed off shaking her head. “S’not a good look for DSS. If I could give them a negative star Yelp review, I would.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re something else, Miss Wildflower,” her face warmed at his gentle little nickname. She would never forget the codename conversation as long as she lived but she was surprised he thought about it at all.

“You don’t have American friends or something...on Thanksgiving?”

He shook his head. “M’all yours, love,” he smirked. “I’ll help y’cook and we can watch movies?” He asked opening her car door again. She paused before she got in.

“If you’re sure,” her voice was quiet, unsure. She didn’t want to force him—especially when he really was under no obligation now that her father wasn’t going to be there.

“M’sure,” he nodded closing her inside before going to his side.

Harry was all hers.

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @youdontcaredoyou @tiredinwinter @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach @straightontilmornin

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I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist for more of my writing.

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insomniamamma · 1 year

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Tessellation: Cee and Ezra

A/N: written for @oonajaeadira and @yearofcreation2023. Year of kisses. The prompt is kiss while sleeping. This one ended up being far more about Cee than Ezra. As Stephen King says "Memory is the basis for every journey."

Warnings: medical trauma, drug abuse, illness, angst, Damon is a terrible father but he wasn't always, death.

He looks small. This man who has upended her life. Ezra. She doesn't even know his family name or where he hails from or which ship he dropped down to the Green on. She's known him two hands of cycles, much of that as he is now. What's left of his right arm is buried in white bandages, strapped to his chest. Tubes snake beneath the nest of blankets, draining murky pink froth from his lungs into oddly prissy containers hanging below, dust infection measured out into fill lines, blood and puss and Kevva knows what. Tube stuffed down his throat and taped to his face. His left arm turned palm up like a gesture of supplication, large-bore IV line spiked into the crook of his elbow, pulsoxometer clipped to his index finger.

He looks small. And deathly sick. His skin has a grayish cast she doesn't care for at all, the dark stubble on his cheeks screaming out like exclamation points. Cee's seen this before. Seen her dad pale and sallow-grey, breath slow, tucked some stim gum between his parted lips and smacked at his arm until he reflexively started chewing.

"I was sleeping, Cee." "but--" "Do NOT do that again. We've got a big drop coming up. We need to be sharp." "but--" "Just hang with me. This job pans out the way it should and we'll be out of the shit for good. Back to Central. But you've got to trust me. You've got to trust me and do what I say, clear?" "but, Dad--" "Are. We. Clear?" "Yeah. clear."

That familiar knot coils itself in her belly. The long greyed out days in between drops ending with her dad doped up to the gills, I need it to sleep, Cee. You'll understand when you're older, nodding off to leave her with his soupy snores and the endlessly shifting light through the pod's tiny rounded windows, little nights and dawns as the freighter spins. She'd copy out what she remembered of The Streamer Girl and listen until she felt confident that he wasn't going to die in his sleep.

"Can he hear me?" She'd asked the medic when they finally allowed her to see him. "Hard to say. We had to put him down pretty deep. He's got a lot of fight in him." "That's a good thing, right?" "Look. Your dad's real sick. He got pretty well dusted. If we can get him to the Pug he's got a shot. But that's a long haul from now. Clear?" "Clear."

She doesn't bother to correct the medic. Maybe things will play better for them if people take them as kin.

Ezra wasn't waking up. But he wasn't dying either. He just stayed stone still, swaddled in white, his stump buried in med-gel and bandages. His eyes flicked back and forth, caught in some endless looping dream. Cee takes his hand sometimes, careful not to dislodge the monitor clipped to his finger, always surprised at his warmth. She tells him about the endless days, doing whatever odd jobs need doing on the freighter, which she understands as charity disguised as work, a way to square their room and board until they hit the Pug. "--channel rat crawled up into the aft intake and died it was just bones and dust, I wanted to keep the skull but Leroy said it was bad luck so it just went in with the rest of the swill--"

Ezra starts twitching, small choking sounds around the tube down his throat.

"Easy," says Cee, "you're okay." And lays her hand on his forehead, smooths the taught skin there, presses the furrows down with her thumb, "You're okay."

"Did I tell you about when your mom used to hypnotize you?"

Cee slides her music player off. She knows by his tone that he is going to have his say. This has become something familiar. He puts the drops in his eyes and then talks. Sometimes it's names and places that she doesn't know and sometimes it involves her. If she doesn't at least make a show of listening he'll yell sometimes, his slurred out voice why don't you ever listen? So it's best to keep her ears half-cocked until sleep claims him.

"Mom used to hypnotize me?" "Mmmh-hmmm. You used to cry so much. You were colicky. We used to have to rub your belly to get you to fart--" "Ewww. Dad--" "They were baby farts! They didn't--they didn't smell--" "But mom?" "Yeah, she'd do this thing--" Damon sits up and lurches towards her and she flinches back a little, and even in his fuzzed out state she registers the hurt in his eyes. Damon smooths the pad of his thumb up and down between her eyebrows "She'd do that?" Cee can't help smiling a little. Damon rarely shows affection these days, and the feel of calloused thumb on her forehead is nice, makes her think of better times, makes her think of being small and Damon picking her up under her arms and covering her face and head with loud smacking kisses while she shrieked in delight, three of them instead of two, a job on some soft, barely remembered world a place of gentle grav and cool breezes, a hand held in each of hers and they'd swing her high, almost flying in the low grav-- "See? I hypnotized you." Cee breaks out of her reverie. "Did not." Damon lays back on his cot. "I freaked out. I told her don't you hypnotize that baby and she laughed and laughed--she--you--miss her…I miss.." and then he's gone. Drawn down into whatever relief the drugs give him, an ill rhythm of slow snores. And Cee waits, waits for the short term sedation of the drops to wane, for his breathing to even out into something more normal.

She remembers being sick. Got bit by a drill worm, Damon told her later, spiked a fever. Like touching a hot engine skirt. She remembers her mother's voice singing low and soft, can't remember the words, she was too small for that, but remembers the cool washcloth on her forehead, removed and re-wetted, Mom kissing her there, right between her eyebrows, where the pad of her thumb once passed.

Ezra sleeps swaddled and small and pinned by machinery, her hand folded around his, careful, fingers tracing the lines of his calloused palm. For now he is still, soothed by her touch. "Ezra? You need to wake up. I don't know what's going to happen when we get to the Pug."

Cee leans over and kisses him, presses her lips against that little space between his eyebrows.

"You need to wake up."

#ezra prospect #ezra (prospect)#cee prospect #cee (prospect)#ezra and cee #cee and ezra #cee and damon #prospect fic #year of kisses #year of themes 2023

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01mishchelle · 6 months

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What I’ve learned so far about ‘manifesting’

i find it extremely idiotic how people believe that they have to do this and that to get their desire. believe me, i used to be like that too. 2-3 years ago i joined a shifting community and let me tell ya, everyone overcomplicated the basics. thats when i gave up and left.

a few weeks ago when i was in a negative, heartbroken state and was begging to have my sp back, a manifestation video came up from this user called hyler. i followed her instructions and even sammy ingram’s.

that’s also where i discovered neville goddard for the first time.

i found it quite odd that we had to do affirm all the time, and thats what i did. i still felt weird, unaccomplished. i did get results, the negatives and the positives. i kept on holding on those results as a proof my sp loved me. but deep inside i knew what i was doing was completely wrong. if they tell you to live in the end, why would i affirm 24/7 to have that desire?

+also adding this, i’ve heard about the void state everywhere in pinterest and here and let me tell ya, after the experiences i’ve had in the shifting community, i stayed the (language) fuck away from that. yes sorry for the people who do the void state, yes cool if you do it if it works for you but for me i just hate doing methods.

it didnt make sense for me. i decided to listen to myself and found out more about neville goddard and edward art.

these two gentlemen made me open my eyes for the first time. this is what ive been missing. ive missed the whole point, everyone missed the whole point.

please study edward art’s works and his i am meditation.

anyways, the whole point is that you literally don’t have to lift a finger to have that desire you want. i’ve made some notes for myself when reading edward art:

“If you lived in a world where all things are possible, and you could create anything you want, would you choose to create a situation and then worry about it? No you would not. You only do because you are identifying yourself with your Outer-man! When I start to feel afraid, or worry, or feel pressure that causes me anxiety, I realize that I AM the INNER MAN CREATING that in the WORLD OF IMAGINATION.”

“I want you to stop worrying about HOW or WHEN it is going to happen and instead FEEL secure KNOWING this 3D world reflects what your INNER SELF HAS AND IS WITHIN.”

“In order to actually lose yourself in the imaginal act, one must accept it is real and let go entirely of the outer-world.”

“One must suspend rational thinking, and just accept it is real. They will free themselves that way in their mind.”

“You cannot be afraid anymore to feel and imagine what you want.”

“When I speak of feeling I do not mean emotion, but acceptance of the fact that desire is fulfilled.”

everything is all YOU. everything comes from YOU. YOU are the reason why things are like this. there’s legit no Universe telling you what you have to do. there isn’t anyone you have to follow to have what you want. no. that isn’t the point. the point is that you have been following yourself. everything has been you all along.

so basically about having that desire in imagination….. i know that you don’t have it physically in 3D but that does not matter. the thing you desire is the FEELING. please you must be very (excuse for my language) fucking stupid if you want it in the 3D.

imagine you already have your sp in the 3D, youve done the hard work and he’s/she’s yours now. great. you don’t feel anything, do you?

why do you want to be with your sp? ask yourself that.

im probably thinking that you want to be loved, yes?

bingo, that is the exact thing you desire. YOU desire to be loved. and guess what?

you are already loved. you legit don’t have to do anything to be loved. you are already loved. and i know, how tf am i loved when i’m single?

get that ‘single’ off your vocabulary. what’s important here that the 3D does not define you. put it inside your head. repeat that. remind yourself that.

the 3D is a reflection of your 4D. the 3D wouldn’t exist if the 4D never existed. the 3D lives off of the 4D (your imagination basically)

see? don’t tire yourself out by worrying about the 3D that you cannot change. it’s all in place, you cannot change it. the only way you can change it is by changing yourself.

no i do not want you to change your sp’s behaviour (remember eiypo) i want you to change your behaviour.

how?

well, how would you act and feel if you’re dating your sp?

would you still be worrying about the 3p? would you keep on checking his status if he’s online? would you be wondering if he loves you? would you be questioning on why he hasn’t came back?

all of that is useless! you’re basically still embodying as someone who’s desiring their sp. that is not what you want.

it is easy. you wouldn’t do all of those things. you already embody as someone who is in a happy relationship with your sp. you already know that you are loved. you never have to worry about them. you never feel stressed at all. you’re happy.

that is what’s important. you don’t have to be in the same state all the time btw, if you get reminded or get extremely anxious; just STOP FOR A SECOND.

don’t start affirming or start visualizing. don’t ask yourself if you’re doing it right. what is the point????? of asking that??????

instead, all you have to do is ‘know’ you already have them. leave it be. don’t meddle with it. trust that it has already happened. spoiler: it did ;)

don’t even think about the 3D, the 3D instantly changed because you changed. there is no such thing about waiting for the 3D to conform. there is no such thing about the 3D being your slave and has to obey you (let me tell ya i was confused when i saw those affirmations) the 3D and the 4D go by hand in hand. that’s the thing here.

so yeah.

i’ve read edward art’s works (plus other ppl) like few days ago so this is all the things i’ve learned. just in few days, how crazy is that lmao.

anyways, i hope you learned something from here, i also learned some new stuff while writing this.

bye 🫡

#law of assumption #neville goddard #sp #manifesting #manifestation #edward art #i hope it helped you ehehe

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seldomscilence16 · 6 months

Text

Whumptober day 30:

"It's okay just to say 'I'm not okay'."

Borrowed Clothing | Bridal Carry | "Not much Longer…."

Fandom: Bat Family

Prompts used: All

Ive been reading dpxdc but am not confident yet, so heres some OOC Bats, based mostly on Wayne Family Adventures, tried angsting some new people for once! I have only read Duke in WFA so hes probably the most OOC forgive me. But let me know, Id love to hear from ya'll on any of my posts :)

TW for blood and injuries, near death experiences

…

"I am never letting you talk me into this again."

Tim glares at the far wall, hanging by his feet, arms tied to his chest. He's in civvies, and his brothers WILL owe him a new outfit after this.

"Oh come on, you were the perfect bait!" Jason's voice comes through the comm, barely holding back his snickers.

"Hush Little-Wing. I'll take you to your favorite coffee place- at a reasonable time- to make up for it BabyBird." Dicks voice is far more sympathetic and even tinged with the anxiety that comes with seeing his brothers in harm's way.

"Then Jay owes me a new outfit." He murmurs a tad petulantly.

"TT, I still think we should have snuck in instead of this, convoluted, plan."

"That would have been fine if we had known where they were located, hence this plan." Duke yawns as he finishes his sentence, pulling a double shift for this case.

"Next time, someone else can be the hostage." Tim grumbles as a headache grows with all the blood rushing to it.

"Whatever you say Timmy." Jason placates mockingly.

"Is anyone else concerned about how long they've left Red Robin alone?" Barbara's exasperated voice comes through the comms, bringing everyone back.

"The lack of blood in my legs should definitely be considered." Tim comments, swinging slightly to try and look around.

"Well, it looks like everyone is-"

"Leaving the building!" Duke cuts Dick off, Jason curses,

"Looks like we got some rats to catch!" He calls, leaping from his hiding spot before the others could react.

"Hang in there Tim, we'll be back!"

"I regret my existence."

"TT is that all?" Damian is a millisecond behind Jason, Dick and Duke give each other an eye roll of comradery, before they are following.

They put up a fight. Seemingly desperate to escape- though it's not super odd- they seem more scared of not being able to leave than of the Bats themselves.

"Not much longer…" The anxious mutter comes from the goon closest to Signal.

He’s quick to pin him, nerves flying in his gut, telling him that they were missing something important.

“Until what?” He pulls his best Batman voice, tired gravel helping him hopefully.

Pinned against the building, Signal doesn’t really need an answer from the goon, the light gives him a glimpse of exactly what he needs to know, but the answer comes anyway,

“B-bomb...”

“Guys, we’ve got a situation! I’m going in for T- the hostage!” Duke catches himself throwing the guy to the nearest Bat, “Find the bomb!” He dashes into the building.

“A bomb?” Tims voice groans, “I am owed several coffees, thank you.”

“Maybe focus on not blowing up first?” Duke's voice is strained, not yet so nonchalant with these types of threats.

“The goons are ready for transport, we’re headed to the device, just stay calm Duke.” Dicks voice is level, and Duke takes a breath to match it.

Tim is partway untied, having been working on it since he’d been hooked, his face is flushed but he gives a lopsided grin- likely to comfort Duke.

“Signal, my man, come to hang out?”

“Har har, let's get you down.”

He steadies him as his feet touch the ground, head spinning and body reorienting, they haven’t even taken a step yet when the whole building shakes, rickety floors and creaky walls groaning with the effort.

“Uh, guys?” Duke cautions, worry skyrocketing again.

“Time to move!”

Duke doesn't need to be told twice, he scoops Tim into his arms with a grunt and finds himself sprinting once more.

“Blushing bride was not on my list.” He mumbles, hand holding his head as the other tires to keep him stable.

“Don't worry, sure it doesn't count when the blood had no other option.”

“You’d be surprised.”

The floor is crumbling as another tremor wracks the old bones of the place. He makes the decision to find the nearest window, taking the Bat route out, and sending a prayer to whoever listened that they all made it out.

“You’re ok… ‘s good…” Blood is a second skin, Jason's jacket torn to shreds as glass and wood alike protrude from his body.

“Todd.. you're…” Damian looks up at the unhooded vigilante, minor damage to himself as he see the crushing weight his brother keeps off him.

“Relax kid… Won't die frem the same ting twice.”

“Jay! Damian!” Dick coughs, the bloody hero shoving at the beams across Jays back until the two can get free. “Are you guys okay?”

“S’fine, lets get baby brat outta here.” The slur comes and goes from his tone, whether from a given effort or otherwise they can't tell. Shifting nearby has them tensing, before a light shines at them,

“Oh thank the Gods.” Duke is dusty but unharmed, moving debris ever so carefully to give them a path out.

“M’place s’closest.” Jason murmurs, leaning heavily on Damian who hadnt moved from his side.

“I can not carry you Todd, stay awake.” The youngest mutters despite his stance.

“M-“

“It's okay just to say ‘I’m not okay’.” Duke interrupts quickly, taking the lead as Dick takes the rear.

“...could be better.” He concedes.

“You are not this much bigger than me. How?” Tim swims in the borrowed shirt and sweats, as does Damian, but neither seems keen to take them off either as they plop onto Jason's couch.

In the kitchen, Duke, Jason and Dick patch each other up carefully, channeling Alfred as best they can until they decide the trip is worth it. Jason grits his teeth as another stitch pierces his skin, Dick muttering a thousand quiet apologies in several languages. Duke keeps his eyes on his own job, if for nothing else than to keep from cringing and hurting Dick.

“We’re bringing the girls next time. This never happens when they're around.” Tim grumbles, ice pack on his face.

“I beg to differ.” Dick mutters.

“Is night shift always like this?” Duke ties off his last bandage and goes about cleaning up.

“Meh.” He gets several, so so hand gestures and a tutt and groans to himself.

“We’re alive, goons apprehended, I'm calling it a win.”

#whumptober 2023 #no.30 #Its okay just to say i'm not okay.#lyric #borrowed clothing #bridal carry #“Not much longer...”#dc universe #batfam #fic #blood mentions #injuries #near death situations #angst #jason todd angst #tim drake angst #damian wayne angst #duke thomas angst #found family

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honeycombstrawberry · 2 years

Note

I came here from AO3 to ask if you would be willing to do a second part to "for you, anything" just cuddles in the hospital after getting y/n in a stable condition sound adorable :]

bonus scene from "for you, anything"

pairing: adrian chase x reader (gn pronouns) rating: gen word count: 1,028

>>> read on ao3!! <<<

You blink, and it feels like you’re waking up in the morning, except everything fucking hurts.

Without meaning to, you groan, trying to reach up to block the light hitting you in the eyes. Your hand is stopped by a light tug, and you blink again, downwards this time, confused, to find yourself connected to an IV.

If that’s supposed to be painkillers, it’s not working particularly well, you think with agitation, dropping your hand back down.

There’s no moment where you forget what’s happened to you. The memories are all there already, just waiting to fill your mind the second you’re conscious and aware. You’re not sure what happened in between you riding in the van with Adrian and you waking up in this hospital bed, but you at least feel like you’re in less pain than you had been, if nothing else. You’re sure you’ve got Adrian to thank for that.

You’ve only had about two seconds to evaluate the hospital room you’ve been secluded in before the door is pushing in. Adrian’s eyes meet yours, and he nearly drops the bag in his hands when he realizes you’re awake.

“Holy shit,” he says, and shoves the paper bag aside. He’s at your side in a second, perched on the edge of the hospital bed, eyes raking over you quickly, taking your hand in his, far more careful in moving you than you’d been with yourself. He takes your head in his other hand, kisses your temple hard. “Holy shit, okay, you’re— You’re awake, you’re okay, how’re you feeling?”

“I’m okay,” you tell him, and your throat scratches. You frown, then ask him. “Do you— Is there water?”

“Oh, shit, yes,” he says. He kisses your cheek, then stands to retrieve the paper bag. “The water from the sink here is super janky and all their little water bottles are dumb and destroy the environment so I went and got you your water bottle from home when I was changing my clothes. And then I realized you needed, like, the actual water, too, so I went and got that, and I was getting snacks, but I didn’t know what you’d be able to eat, so I got a bunch of everything—”

“Adrian,” you cut him off, and he turns back to you, hands full of the contents of his paper bag. “Water first.”

He exhales. “Right,” he says, and starts digging through the bag again. He’s changed out of his Vigilante uniform into jeans and a sweater, but he’s still rumpled and sweat-streaked, his hair at all angles. His clothes are changed, but he remains a mess. It’s clear he didn’t linger long, wherever he went.

When he comes back to you, he helps you in taking your water and drinking it, even though you’re not weak enough to need that much help, necessarily. It reassures the both of you to do it, until he can take the bottle away again, setting it aside.

“Do you want food?” he asks. “Or— I mean, the nurse, probably, or a doctor, or somebody. Or, like— More sleep? Or—” You reach out and catch his wrist, tugging lightly at him. You can’t move far, or with much strength, but you squeeze as tight as you can anyways.

“Would you lay down with me?” you ask him. The pain’s burning in you, but the fear’s a little stronger, a little harder to shake. You know, logically, you’re in a safe place, but— you weren’t, for so long, and the back of your mind still itches, and your skin still prickles, and you’ve missed him. Adrian can make it all better, even if it’s a nonsensical thought to have. You think it might still be true, anyways.

Adrian’s brow creases together, crumpling in a sweet sort of affectionate concern.

“Yeah,” he says, and kisses the back of your hand before crouching down to pry off his shoes. He doesn’t bother unlacing them, just kicking them off with ferocity before he climbs up into the hospital bed with you.

Gingerly, gently, he shuffles you, shifts you around, careful of your wounds, your bandages, your healing aches. He threads himself into you, fits himself around you, holds you close and lets you hold him close in return. When you’re held securely in his hands, you can feel your eyes burning, tears streaming hot down your face. You don’t even know what started the tears, or what exactly you’re crying over. The emotions just— come.

“I’ve got you,” Adrian promises you, holding you close. His voice cracks, right in the middle, but he still clings to you, refusing to let you go. “I’ve got you. You’re okay. Nobody’s going to touch you ever again, okay? I’ll— kill them before they can, I promise. You’re okay.” He pushes a kiss to your temple; his lips move against your skin when he tells you, “I love you so much,” and you exhale shakily.

“Thank you,” you tell him, watery.

“You don’t—”

“I love you,” you continue, before he can even finish his protest.

He hesitates, then kisses your hair, the top of your head.

“I love you,” he whispers again. Another kiss, another soft murmur of, “Fuck, I love you. Don’t— Don’t do that to me again, alright?”

“Well,” you say, “I’ll try,” and he huffs a wet laugh.

“You better,” he warns you, slightly lighter, and squeezes you more tightly to him. “Close your eyes again. I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here.”

You let your eyes close, turning your face into his chest. It smarts, the pains along your throat and collar and all over your face stinging, but it soothes the aches so much more to press them into them, to let him cover them and heal you from within, as if that were even possible. You think it just might be, based on how you’re feeling.

His lips find the crown of your head, and you feel them brush your hair when he says, “I’m not going anywhere,” again. You exhale shakily, trying to get yourself to rest, just— relishing in the comforting hold of him around you, knowing he means it.

adrian chase taglist pt. 1:

@deputyrook @bb-skyrunner @himboelover @pieriinova @gcldtom @violetrainbow412-blog @amysuemc @saturnngal @nptnewr @myguiltypleasures21 @pinkygunslingy @chaseadrian @breathing-in-waves @rishlurh @goblynnrockz @theowritesstuff @themartiansdaughter @dallasvakarian @missscarlettangel @hillaryroadheadcllinton @ohmybubbletea @buckys-estrella @witchywcmans @qjuiq-odakyu @xothatnerdykid @thevalkyrior @mattsmanpain @sunflowerfive @deirdre-belle @anthonyedwinstark @sexysquatch @crimscnrains @trans-librarian

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ayamari-no-goshi · 11 months

Text

Don’t Forget to Write (5)

AO3 -> first, previous, next

Fandoms: DC (Batman comics)

Summary: From Dick’s POV. Damian happened to win a contest to illustrate a new book by an up and coming author. Being the good brother he is, Dick decided to check the book.He quickly realized he was reading a very first hand account of one of Jason’s old cases, and deciding to act like a normal person would, he decided to read some of the author’s other works. What he found shook the very foundation of what he thought was true?

Warnings: rated T - mostly for swearing and questionable mental health. Amnesia

Parings: none

Notes: originally uploaded to AO3. Cross-posted to tumblr ((I may have forgotten to post the update. Oops))

“What do you mean?” Bruce demanded of his youngest, who couldn’t meet his eyes. “What did you do?”

“Don’t… don’t touch me!” Jason hissed in abject terror, turning everyone’s attention back to him. He was backing away from Cass, who was trying to see if he was okay. His hands were finally moved from his face so smears of blood and bright, almost feverish eyes could finally be seen. Whatever was going on, Dick doubted he was completely aware of his surroundings.

Dick slowly moved forward and held out his hands, palm up, so his brother could see they were empty. “Jay? It’s alright.” Instead of being comforted, his brother tensed. Shit, he was going to bolt, and this wasn’t the place for him to try to run. There were too many dangers in the Cave. Backing off, he hoped it would at least give them time to figure out what was wrong, but it wasn’t enough. Steph shifted slightly from behind him, and it was enough to spook Jason again.

“Damnit, Jay,” he stated under his breath as he and Bruce ran after his brother. As they got close enough to try to restrain him, Jason fought back. And unlike their last scuffle, his attacks were far more certain, controlled, and trained. Not only that, but he was also attempting to aim for the parts of their armor that were the weakest. But as soon as he managed to put space between them, he tried to run again. Eventually, he managed to pin Jason on the ground as Bruce delivered a dose of sedatives.

As he started to succumb to the medication, Dick could have sworn Jason whispered, “Even you, Bruce…?” What in the world prompted that response?

Once they were certain he was out, Bruce picked up his son and carried him to the MedBay, where Steph and Cass had already begun prepping. They were hesitant to put in an IV without knowing exactly what happened, they did the basic medical checks before Bruce took a blood sample and summoned Alfred.

As he did that, Dick and Steph checked Jason for any sign of injuries. It turned out he had tried gouging the side of his face that had the more severe scarring. However, when they cleaned up the blood, the scarring wasn’t visible. Alarmed, Dick checked Jason’s hands and arms. His fingers no longer looked or felt misaligned, and just like on his face, the scars on his arms weren’t there.

“I hadn’t been imagining it,” he said more to himself than anyone else. “Something’s been healing him.”

“But what?” Steph questioned as she glanced back and forth between Jason and Bruce. “This isn’t some mystic coming back to life thing, is it?”

“Something tells me it’s not that simple,” he replied as he moved to let Bruce do his second round of checks. Glancing to his side, he saw Damian hesitantly hovering nearby. Cass was beside him with a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Dames, what happened?”

“I… hadn’t anticipated such a strong reaction.” The unease in his statement immediately set up alarm bells. Most people wouldn’t be able to catch it, but Dick had worked with Damian to know that when his mask of confidence fell, something was wrong.

Bruce noticed it too. “What did you give him?”

“It was obvious that Todd’s body would not recover even if his mind would,” Damian stated. “While I know you had made the decision not to use it, Mother assured me that a small amount of Lazarus Water would help heal him and limit any potential side effects. At first, I had only been adding a few drops to his tea as a precaution.”

“At first? Wait, is that why that water tasted so off?” If that was the case, he and Jason cleaned the fridge for no reason. That wasn’t what he needed to focus on at the moment. He could complain about doing unnecessary chores later.

Damian nodded once as he glanced at Bruce. “If you kept him here much longer, it was likely he’d try to escape. I… increased the dose to make sure he’d at least have his full capabilities if he decided to do something foolish. I had believed he would respond the same as the previous times, but he did not.”

Bruce did not immediately respond as he moved past the medical table to kneel in front of Damian, who crossed his arms and almost defiantly stared at him. “Why did you go against my wishes?” he asked, keeping his voice relatively neutral.

“Todd is important to you and to Grayson,” he explained. “The longer it takes for him to recover, the more distracted the two of you become. As you know, that increased the risk of being injured on the field…”

Dick gently ruffled Damian’s hair. “Thanks for being worried about us, but did you ever think Jason might not be okay with this?” When his brother gave him his version of a baffled expression, he continued, “Jay’s naturally wary of any type of drug, even if it’s standard medication. Finding out you added something that, while it helped heal him, could also negatively affect his mind, might not go over all that well when he finds out about it. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it in the long run,” he hastily added, “but he never had a choice in the matter.”

“Your mother may have also neglected to warn you how painful coming in contact with Lazarus Water can be,” Bruce added. Dick had to give him credit, he was trying to be patient and understanding with Damian. The kid had grown up in a cult where his grandfather’s use of the stuff was commonplace after all. “Ra’s has been bathing in the Waters for so long that I doubt he recognizes the pain anymore, but for most people, it’s excruciatingly painful.”

Damian glanced towards where Jason was resting. “I see. Perhaps I was hasty in my actions.”

While it wasn’t what most people would consider an apology, Dick knew it was Damian’s version of one. Hopefully, this would prevent any further use of Lazarus Water on family members without permission. Speaking of which, they were going to have to determine when exactly Damian reached out to Talia and determine which Pit was used. Most of the Pits were reportedly sealed, but it didn’t mean they weren’t using an old one. And if they weren’t, they would have to determine where the new one was.

“While I understand you acted out of what you thought was the best course of action for everyone involved, you still went against my instructions,” Bruce continued as sternness crept into his tone. “This experiment of yours could have unpredictable effects on your brother. We’ll discuss punishment after we finish with Jason’s medical checks.”

“I understand, Father.”

Dick felt for the kid. While Damian was doing better with understanding how ‘normal’ people worked, he still had trouble. Nothing about what he did was malicious in any way, which by itself showed his growth, but it wasn’t right for him to have given Jason something so volatile. With how little Jason received, hopefully he wouldn’t have to deal with the known side effects.

Speaking of which, could Jason feel that same fiery pain when he was drinking it in the tea? Dick hadn’t noticed anything when he sipped the contaminated water, so maybe it was concentration dependent. Or maybe Jason’s chronic pain from his injuries helped prevent him from noticing. Either way, at least his brother hopefully wouldn't have to deal with that pain any longer.

…

“Oracle, any new information?” Bruce requested over the comms.

“Just like I told you five minutes ago, I haven’t seen anything yet,” came Babs’ exasperated reply, but her voice softened as she continued, “As soon as I catch sight of him, I’ll let you know. Don’t worry, Bruce, we’ll find him.”

There was no reply.

Dick just sighed as he grappled through the city to one of the points of interest. While they weren’t entirely sure when Jason woke up from the video feed, he waited until the only one in the Cave was Tim to begin to move. Then, when Tim was distracted at his conspiracy board, he carefully grabbed his things from the Cell, with the exception of Alfred’s Tupperware. He then took one of Bruce’s secondary utility belts and a grapple from one of the work benches, managed to get himself on one of the Batcycles, and raced off before Tim had a chance to ever respond.

The security footage was amazing to watch. Dick could see his Robin training in the way he carefully moved around the Cave, and there was no hesitation as he jumped on the Batcycle. While it would still have to be confirmed, he believed Jason had recovered most, if not all, of his memories from the Lazarus Water.

But why had he left? Was it possible he was going to take on Black Mask by himself? Dick hoped not. They hadn’t told him the locations they had narrowed down for Mask’s hiding places, and they hadn’t found any evidence he had gotten into their databases. That meant he’d be going in blind. The last time Jason ran off, he got killed. They just got him back. Dick wouldn’t be able to handle it if they lost him again, and he couldn’t imagine what it would do to Bruce if that happened.

Other than when he came into the city, Babs had only caught a couple glimpses of him on the cameras, but she hadn’t gotten a clear picture of where he was going. Since they weren’t entirely certain of his destination, Bruce decided that he would stake out the three possible locations for Black Mask along with Cass and Tim while Dick, Damian, and Steph would check a few places of interest such as Jason’s current apartment. Though Steph grumbled about it, they all knew she was relieved not to be anywhere near Mask.

While Steph rushed off towards Jason’s current apartment and Damian headed towards his old home, Dick headed towards Jason’s favorite gargoyle. Even if he found Jason, he personally believed Bruce should be the one to talk to him. However, Bruce was doing what he did best and was compartmentalizing his feelings. To him, the most rational thing to do at the moment would be to capture Black Mask to keep his son safe.

As he approached the building in question, he caught sight of a figure sitting next to a gargoyle. After radioing in he found Jason and requesting that Babs put him on a private line, he slowly approached him in hopes of not scaring him off.

Jason tensed as he heard him. “What do you want, Old Man?” Bitterness and exasperation colored his voice.

“He’s not here at the moment. Can I take a message?” he gently teased.

His brother turned and stared at him for a moment. His expression flickered through several emotions before finally settling on annoyance. “Are you here to drag me back?”

“I’d rather have you come back on your own. Can I sit?”

“Suit yourself.”

Making sure he gave his brother a respectful distance, he made himself as comfortable as he could before speaking again. “How much do you remember?”

Instead of answering him, he picked at his fingers. “What did that kid give me? Poison? Drugs? Was I that much of a fuck up to you guys that the new Robin,” he stumbled a little on the title, “had to try to kill me? Is that why I was really there? To figure out how much I remembered and take me out if I proved to be a liability?”

“No! Of course not! Jason,” Dick paused a moment to see how he’d react to his actual name. When Jason glanced at him, Dick took that as a good sign, “B wanted to make sure nothing happened to you while Black Mask is on the loose.”

“The last person I trusted told me it was safe too,” he stated before he whispered. “I… I died, Dick." His fingers desperately gripped his arms as he hugged himself. "I’m not supposed to be here. I’m… I’m not supposed to be alive.”

“You… you remember?”

“Remember how the person I hoped would love me sold me to the Joker to save her own skin? Or how she smoked while she watched that monster and his crony beat me with a crowbar? Or how she tried to double cross him and spectacularly failed? Or how I… I somehow pulled myself up and tried to disarm the bomb?” His voice began to crack. “Or maybe you’re talking about when I realized I was going to die and threw myself in front of that woman in hopes maybe she’d still survive?” He hung his head.

An icy hollow sensation filled his chest as Babs made a choking sob over the comm. “Jay…” What could he say to that? For years, they had believed he’d rushed in without backup for some reason, but this was the complete opposite. He’d been betrayed by his own mother.

Realization hit him. That must have been why he acted like that when they knocked him out. He thought they were going to betray him too.

“Why did I think she’d be any different? No one wanted me, or if they did, they got bored of me after a while.” His voice had dropped to a whisper. “Willis got himself killed after turning back to crime. He said he did it to keep us off the streets, but it changed him after a while. He stayed away more, and when he was there, he didn't seem interested. Catherine had been a great mom before she became addicted. I don’t know how often she actually knew I was there. Bruce… I guess I deluded myself into thinking he cared. ‘Jason Todd: a good soldier’,” he recited bitterly. “No wonder I was replaceable.”

Oh god, he saw the memorial plaque. Dammit Bruce. “But you weren’t!”

“We both know I was just a poor replacement for you.”

“Jay… Little Wing… you were no one’s replacement. You weren’t a soldier.” Did Jason really feel like that? Or was this a possible side effect of the Lazarus Water? It was reported to enhance negative emotions, but it was hard to say just how intense those effects might be with him drinking it. So, he tried a different tactic. “Remember what we were talking about a few days ago? About how he was after he lost Robin, after he lost you. That wasn’t the anger of a general losing a soldier. That was the grief of a father losing his son.”

When there was no response, he continued. “I’m not going to excuse my behavior when I first found out about you. B’s lack of communication and the decision to pass on the role without my permission didn’t help an already tense situation. I was young and stupid and took out some of that anger on you, but you were a good kid and a great Robin. I didn’t lie when I told you I genuinely regret that I wasn’t around more. I… I was devastated when I found out.” Silence fell between them as he tried to figure out what else to say.

Jason’s head was still bowed as he finally decided to speak up. “What… what did the kid give me?” He clenched and unclenched his hands a few times. Apparently, he decided not to unpack his feelings about the previous conversation. Honestly, Dick respected that. “I felt like I was burning from the inside out…”

“Well…” No matter how he attempted to explain this, it wasn’t going to go over well. “Do you remember B’s ex?”

His brother gave him an unimpressed look. “Which one?”

“The one associated with assassins. She’s Robin’s mother.”

Realization was quickly replaced with absolute revulsion. “You mean to tell me he managed to get her to send him his grandfather’s bathwater… and he had me drink it? Oh, fuck you! It’s not funny.”

Dick couldn’t help it. He had to laugh. Up until recently, he never thought he’d have a chance like this ever again. “It’s not, but your summary was.” After a moment he added, “Don’t be too mad at Robin. He thought it was the best way to help you.”

“… I wish it would have left the scars…” Jason’s voice was almost inaudible. “I got used to them, and they were the only tie I had to the past I couldn’t remember. Now, I can’t even go back to the life I was living. It wasn’t the best, but it wasn’t bad.”

“You could always come home.”

“I don’t know if I can. It’s not… I’m not…” He ran his hands through his hair as he tried to find the words he needed. “Dick, I lived… what is it? Five, six years? On my own. You didn’t know I was here, and I certainly didn’t know all the answers I wanted were in the big house on the hill. I know it’s not anyone’s fault and that it’s irrational, I know, but it hurts that no one looked for me before this. It hurts that everything moved on without me, and I was right here the entire time.”

“But I also don’t know how I can face B now that I know,” he continued as he pulled his knees up and rested his chin on them. It made him look much younger. “He probably didn’t tell you, but we were fighting before I took off before... Anyways, it got to the point where he told me he wasn’t my dad.”

Dick knew there had been some tension between Jason and Bruce in the months leading up to his death. They’d talked a few times about it. Bruce, who preferred his partners following his lead, had a hard time accepting Jason’s burgeoning independence. It wasn’t out of hatred or malice, but a deep-seated fear his son would get hurt. Something that took over a decade for Dick to learn because, in the heat of the moment, it never came across like that. So, he listened and let his brother vent, but he didn’t realize it had gotten so bad near the end. Bruce loved Jason. It was obvious he loved Jason, but to someone who had abandonment issues, saying something like that would be devastating.

“Got benched,” if Jason noticed his discomfort, he ignored it and pressed on. “Figured it was only a matter of time before I got thrown out, so, after finding out about my mom, I decided to save him the trouble. Then I let that woman know I was Robin, and she decided I’d been a great bargaining chip.” He shook his head. “Now there are new faces I don’t recognize… And I don’t know if I’m willing to get dragged back into Batman’s war.”

His heart sank a little at his brother’s words. Dick had to remind himself that he knew it was a possibility. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. And even if you do, you can take a supporting role like Oracle does.”

His brother rolled his eyes. “You and I both know it’s impossible not to get dragged into it when you’re part of this family. And you know how I am. I don’t like feeling powerless when there’s something I might be able to do to help people. Now that I’m... I guess me again, it’ll only be a matter of time before I somehow get involved in something.” He paused. “Wait, who’s Oracle. Another new face?”

It took a moment for Dick to understand Jason’s confusion. Of course, he wouldn’t know Babs took on that role as that occurred after her death. “Nope. You actually know her.”

“Barbie?”

He had to chuckle at the surprise on Jason’s face as well as his use of his old nickname for Babs. “Yeah. She’s been doing fine and has been waiting for you to recover your memory so she can come see you. But if you want, I can hand you a comm, and you can talk to her now.”

There was a moment of consideration. “Not… not right now. There’s too much chaos to sift through, but I promise I will soon.”

Dick chuckled as Babs muttered in his ear that she’d hunt him down if he didn’t. “She’s holding you to that.” His smile fell. “What are you planning to do now?”

“I don’t know…”

“Well… I don’t recommend going back to your apartment.”

Jason snorted. “If you think I’m going to be put back in a cell again…”

“No! Of course not! I didn’t want that for you in the first place, but B’s going to insist you stay somewhere safe until we can catch Mask. He’s probably also going to want to do some tests due to the unauthorized consumption of Ra’s bathwater.”

“…You are never going to let me live that down.”

“Not in a million years.” Genuinely smiling, Dick stood and offered Jason his hand. “Come on.”

His brother’s expression turned distrustful. “So you can escort me back?”

“Is it so hard to believe I want to fly with my brother again? Now, where did you park that cycle?”

…

Alfred was waiting for them in the Cave. Until that point, he had begrudgingly agreed to keep his distance from Jason until he regained his memories. Bruce believed that since Jay had retained enough of his skills and deductive reasoning, there would be a good chance he’d make the connection between him and ‘Agent A’ and didn’t want to take that risk if Jason never recovered. It was the only reason Damian had been allowed to take Jason the tea trays. Now that it was clear Jason remembered, he wanted to be there to greet him.

“Master Jason, it’s good to see you.”

Jason gave him a shaky smile. “Hey, Alfie. Did you get your Tupperware?”

“I did. Thank you for cleaning it for me.” He moved forward so he stood in front of Jason and gently touched his shoulder. “Let me take a good look at you.” After taking in his appearance, he nodded approvingly. “You’ve turned into such a fine young man without us.”

Without saying anything, Jason hugged the older man. Alfred seemed surprised by the sudden display of emotion but returned the hug. Both of their eyes seemed a little wet, but Dick wasn’t going to call either of them out on it. He was going to pester his brother for a hug of his own later, when Jason was less conflicted.

His living situation was something they’d have to revisit later. Bruce was going to do everything in his power to try to keep him at the Manor, but Jason had lived on his own for years without overt influence from their family. He might not be able to tolerate being back under Bruce’s thumb, especially if he decided to go back into the field.

What name would Jason even take if he decided to go back? Did he have names picked out when he was still Robin? Wait, they didn’t even know how he felt about Tim, Steph, and Damian all using the name after his death. That might be something they need to unpack with him sooner than later. He’d died in the role and wouldn’t necessarily understand why there had been other Robins. Tim or Steph might have mentioned why in passing, but he needed to confirm it. No matter how much Jason did or didn’t know, there was no way he was going to let Bruce give that explanation, not after the debacle with the memorial plaque.

Speaking of which, he still needed to take that thing down. And yell at Bruce about it.

…

After a basic physical and a blood test, Alfred went to go get some refreshments while Dick waited in a nervous silence with his brother for the others. As much as he wanted to chat Jason’s ear off, it was probably too much too soon. All of them, well, probably all of them, had dealt with memory loss to some extent at one point or another. But unlike the others, Jason’s missing memories involved his death. How was anyone supposed to unpack that?

Wait, there was a way they could speak without words! After changing into civies, he jogged over to the training area, grabbed some equipment, headed back towards his brother, and offered them to him. When Jason gave him a baffled look, he just smiled and gestured towards the training mats. His brother didn’t move, somewhat unsure if Dick was serious.

So, to show he was, he threw a padded glove at his head. Chuckling at the offended expression on Jason’s face as he scrambled to his feet, Dick threw the rest of the gear at him before retreating to the training area to wait. Their fight began as Jason made it to the mat and threw a left haymaker.

He was rusty, and it didn’t help he seemed awkward in his own body. If Dick had to guess, there was probably a disconnect between how he remembered he should move as Robin and how he had to move from his injuries. Not only had he gained a surprising amount of height, but he was also still dealing with the aftermath of muscle atrophy which made his movements somewhat jerky. But that was okay. This was just supposed to be an outlet.

There was anger and desperation in his movements. And pain, so much pain and loneliness. As they continued, some of those negative emotions began to fade in intensity as Jason started enjoying himself.

By the time the others returned from staking out Black Mask’s hideouts and patrols, Dick and Jason had finished their match and were having Alfred patch them up. They mostly just had forming bruises, but both of them had gotten a couple good hits on the other. The butler at least pretended to be disappointed in their actions as Bruce headed over towards them.

Any word he was going to say died on his lips when he realized Dick wasn’t wearing his costume. After taking in the fresh injuries, he looked back and forth between his two sons with a raised eyebrow in what was his own version of bafflement.

“Why are you surprised?” Jason questioned as Alfred finished putting butterfly sutures on the cut above his eyebrow. Dick had caught him just a little too hard on that strike. “The two of us got into a fight the first time we met. It’s practically bonding at this point.”

Dick chuckled. While it wasn’t funny at the time, he had put Jason in a headlock when they first met. Why Alfred had decided to put Jason in Dick’s room instead of a guestroom while his was getting prepared would baffle him for the rest of his life. “That’s true, but you picked a fight with B too when you first met.”

“In my defense, I was jacking tires off the Batmobile and did not want to end up in Juvie or the foster care system.” Jay smirked. “What’s your excuse? I was sleeping when you pulled that bullshit.”

“Look, patrol was rough that night, and I wasn’t expecting to find anyone in my bed.”

“Maybe if you had actually told someone you were coming home that night…”

“What? And ruin the surprise when I showed up for breakfast?”

Giggles interrupted their banter. Glancing towards their audience standing behind Bruce, he noticed Steph obviously giving Tim a shit-eating grin, even if it was hidden under her mask. Oh, hadn’t she hit him with a brick on their first meeting? Now that he thought about it, Tim was the odd man out. He hadn’t tried attacking anyone in their family when he met them.

Using the momentary distraction, Damian moved to Jason’s side. “I take it your facilities are completely functional again.”

Instead of immediately responding, their brother opened and closed his hands a few times. “I think so, but do me a favor, even if I’m on death’s door, don’t ever give me that stuff again.”

“Understood. It had not been my intention to cause such distress.”

Jay hesitantly reached out and ruffled Damian’s hair. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. I just need time to get used to and sort through everything. Too much happened at once.” While Damian did pull away, there was a slight smile on his face.

“Jason…?” Bruce had raised a hand as if he wanted to reach out but stopped halfway. Disbelief and a wary hope made their way into his voice.

“If I say ‘yes’, are you going to lock me away again?”

“No!” As he pulled off the cowl, Bruce finally moved close enough to Jason to touch him. Carefully, he cradled his face in his hands. “No. Jay, Lad… I… We just found you again. I couldn’t risk… Not again. I didn't... I didn't know how else to keep you here, to keep you safe.”

After gently moving Bruce’s hands, Jason slowly stood and hugged Bruce. There was a moment of stunned disbelief before Bruce returned it. "Don't think I'm happy with you. Cuffs, Bruce. What the fuck?" Jason told him as his voice softened. "But it's me. I'm really here, Bruce."

Deciding they probably didn’t need an audience, Dick started rounding up his siblings and herding them towards the changing rooms. While there was some grumbling, especially from Tim, Dick reminded them there would be plenty of time for proper introductions in the morning. For now, father and son needed some time to reconnect without an audience.

As he made sure none of them would attempt to sneak back over, the fact Jason was really home finally hit him. This wasn’t some specter or hallucination or a man with no memory of himself. It was really Jason. He wouldn’t have to watch his words or watch from afar. Now, he would be able to do all the things he never thought he’d ever have a chance to do with his first brother.

If Jason hadn’t been writing his old cases, if Damian hadn’t won that art contest, they never would have found him. As much as he tried not to use the word, it really felt like a miracle.

“What do you mean you still haven’t caught Black Mask?” Jason’s offended voice interrupted Dick’s thoughts. “Seriously Old Man, what have you been doing out there? Are you losing your touch?”

Sighing, Dick shook his head. Some things never change.

=========================

Did I intend to write a parallel to “et tu, Brute” in this. No. Did I cackle when I realized it? Absolutely

We are ignoring the idea of Ric Grayson in this house

In Death in the Family, it’s explicitly stated Babs got shot 1 month before the events of the arc start. It’s usually depicted as happening after DitH in later renditions.

In RHatO (Rebirth run), it was shown Jason was staying in Dick’s room as his was getting prepared. And that’s how Dick found out about him – he went to go sleep in his bed, found an unknown kid, and put him in a headlock. While I do prefer the idea Dick and Jason had a decent relationship, it’s too funny for me not to reference.

Regarding the Lazarus water... the idea for the small amounts actually comes from an episode of Batman: Beyond. Now, I could be misremembering, but I'm mostly certain there was a holiday episode where it was suggested Talia had been giving Bruce small amounts of it for years with no apparent ill effects.

#don't forget to write #Writer AU #fanfiction #fanfic #Dc comics #Bruce Wayne #Batman #Jason Todd #Red Hood #Dick Grayson #Nightwing

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blaqueswanzaghouliishiilikeda · 11 months

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What theories do you got for the end of season 2?

hii 🫶🏾

sorry i’m so late with this. i haven't been online too much lately. So theories??? man i’m not really engaging with much speculation as far as S2 goes. mainly bc i don’t think i have the ideas that will happen how my mind is formulating them. also bc they would be based off of nothing but what ive seen said about the books and vibes i got from S1 lmao. i’m so sorry if i disappoint you my ideas. here’s what i hope…

S2 will focus on loumand in the past and in the present maybe Armand might get to contribute to the telling of things. I’m very fucking excited for loumand. Idk how to not lose my mind about this! it’ll be interesting to me if there’s points of contention between how louis remembers something and how he does. what happened to Claudia and how coming out in this contention would be really fun to watch. “the love of my life” seems to be something that’s gonna come undone next season. seeing how they came together. seeing what makes their relationship tick. seeing the cracks in what their dynamic is now. seeing how Daniel’s tendency to be provocative and rude when he feels endangered will impact things or how it will shift now that he knows Rashid is actually Armand—now that he realizes he’s been talking to an even stronger vampire crazy out the side of his neck. and he’s greatly out numbered rn. i want to see if Daniel tries to run and leave and how they might convince him to stay or if he decides to stay what lends to that decision. the book? answers that he wants? im sure it’ll be many things.

I wonder if they will put off the hows of how Lestat finds his way to Paris since no one but him would really have all that information. I think with seeing Sam and Assad hanging out off set there will be some Armand/Lestat scene to look forward too. they’re gonna fight and its gonna be nasty and full of tension and armand longing for lestat while lestat longs for louis and he’s [lestat] gonna get that look in his eye were he agrees to something he know damn well he shouldnt in the name of saving louis. its gonna be delicious. Im excited to see that.

I hope we only really get hints of the devil’s minion stuff and i hope a good chunk of most of it happens in the modern day so they can have lots to fill coming seasons with. i want S2 to be more about loumand anyways. THO i do want them to put the fear of the devil into that man. I want him to really come to terms with what the fuck situation he’s in and I want Louis and Armand to make him feel it for real. I want the cracks in his dynamic with them and his supposed superior morality to start to show.

I think the situation with Louis might make Claudia desperate for another connection by the time it’s clear Louis is stuck in the past and longing for Lestat. Her hatred for him i think is soemthing we’ll see develop in it’s fullness. i hope she’s just as petty as she’s been. there wa a post about her playing piano and playing bach even tho she knows it torment him. i love that post. i wish i had it in me to find it. that post is genius. but yeah so i think she’d even accept the mother like way Madeleine treats her even tho she’s been looking to be treated like an equal bc anything is better than where they find themselves in terms of being stuck together after all thats happened and the spector of him choking her and lestat being spared because of him always looming over them. i think that adds to the sheer sadness of her situation. the living truth that yeah lestat is alive and louis would have him even now. and then the realization that he would also have armand who wants her dead clearly. i think someone who seems to “see her” would be preferable. but bc i know this is the painshow i cant say that they’re dynamic won’t be hard to watch. i think it will. I think madeleine will be working out her own trauma in losing her family on Claudia and it’ll be really clear that Claudia will always be choosing the lesser of an evil. i think they’ll play with our minds and hearts about what they could be, but ultimately they’re doomed and she’ll still wind up dead. and apparently so does madeleine even after being turned soo.. yeah i’m about to be heart shattered behind claudia.

sorry if these are disappointing. but yeah that’s as far as i’ve got. tho i’m sure i’ll think of something else and make a post about it. but i havent really wanted to speculate too much on S2 beyond being horny about loumand. maybe we’ll see their dungeon!

#iwtv #s2 speculations #louis de pointe du lac #armand #claudia #lestat de lioncourt #madeleine

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your-subby-creature · 1 year

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Could you tell me more about your research in history? I’m doing a really difficult world history class for bonus credits so it’s all ive really been talking about, “oh and the mongols unified Eurasia by blahblahblah” but I would love to hear about your research into all of it! :D

Oo yes!! Okay so preface: I am not a historian, and my field is actually gender studies rather than pure history! History is one of my interests, and I'd consider queer history to be a special interest of mine, so that's what much of the research I'm working on focuses on.

With that out of the way, what I'm specifically looking into is the history of funerals for trans people in the United States and the way that this reflects shifting sources of community for trans people over time. While this is a continuing project and I don't want to come to an overarching conclusion yet, the two papers I've written so far, and the digging around I've done for them have given me some insight.

First: trans people as a whole have never been treated with the respect and dignity in death we deserve by the media and broader American society. This ranges from fairly benign and irritating sensationalism, to cases where to repeat the language used would probably get me banned from this website. It's...bleak, but not entirely unsurprising, and also fairly nonlinear, as most of queer history tends to be. Things haven't gotten either better or worse, they've just gotten different.

Second: while the broader society and the media have never truly honored our deaths, we've always had community. At first, especially in the earlier cases from the 1890s to the early 1900s, these communities were the local, tight-knit groups you might imagine. Geographical closeness and the communication of the time meant that we both had to and were able to be in community with our villages, towns, and neighbors. Note that this does not apply universally, and only applies to cases of trans people who were "stealth" until their time of death, which are often the only historical records we have to go on. As the 20th century moved on, however, a rise in the visibility of transness (and queerness in general) as something sensational, exotic, and deviant, *especially* after Christine Jorgensen's public transition, led trans people to be distanced from their local community's respect in death. Always a double-edged sword, visibility also gave rise to the first homophile organizations and queer communities, who increasingly became the ones to show trans people dignity after death. Note that this, as most things in queer history, does not apply universally; some trans people, especially BIPOC trans people living in closer-knit communities, received regard from their geographic community and not from broader, predominantly white, gay groups of the time. As with everything, it's complicated.

Third: *many* *many* of the issues faced by trans people in receiving postmortem dignity carry through until today. Postmortem detransition, especially for transfeminine people and young people, is devastatingly high. The funeral industry is incredibly uneducated and unequipped to work with trans bodies and memories. The state of death records for trans people and the large-scale erasure of trans identity through them is a massive fucking problem that makes me tear up just thinking about it. Trans people receive little to no assistance in preserving our memories and selves, and the process of doing so is difficult, especially when people are so reluctant to talk about their wishes for burial and remembrance.

In all my research is...depressing, and complicated, and far less nuanced and intersectional than I'd like it to be due to a dearth of records. The best solutions I've found are as follows: get legally binding advance directives and designate a funeral agent. Talk about and plan your postmortem wishes- yes it can be awkward, but it's nowhere near as devastating as the alternative. (I, personally, have someone designated to tell even my tumblr mutuals in the event of my untimely demise, but that may be overkill.)

The most important thing is to know what your wishes are, and ensure that you have a community that will honor them. Whether that's geographic, familial, or a queer community, find people and take the social and legal steps necessary to be sure you'll be given dignity after death.

This is a gross oversimplification of everything I've looked into, but this ask is getting dangerously long, so I'll leave it with that. If anyone has any questions, don't hesitate to ask, and I'll leave some links to further non-academic resources if any of my trans followers want to learn more about preserving our identities in death.

#Creature responds #dessthebest1 #this ask is UNGODLY long #i am so sorry #you asked about my research and i sprung into trying to summarize an approx 20 page paper and a 35 slide presentation into a tumblr post #did it work? gods know

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warmdrpepper · 6 months

Text

aita for not wanting to drive my coworker to the airport?

for background: we've been working together for over a year and she has always annoyed the piss out of me. like i used to dread going to work because she would irritate me constantly. now, im not going to go into detail about her life, but all you need to know is that she went through a bad divorce a few years ago that left her broke and far from her family. and in feburary of this year, she crashed her car and couldnt afford a new one, so i volunteered to take her to and from work. we got close after that (its like the opposite of "distance makes the heart grow fonder" the less time i spend with her, the more obnoxious i find her)

fast forward to today. she's been talking about going back to her hometown to see her boyfriend of like 2 weeks? maybe more? she also says its to see her family, but anytime she brings it up, her boyfriend is the first word out of her mouth, so.

she got someone to buy her plane tickets to her hometown. but the problem is the closest airport is two hours away. (technically theres one in town but its stupid expensive) she comes up to me at work and asks if i work that wednesday. i do. and she asks if i could drive her to the airport after work. i said i could, technically. and she ran off to do her job

for full context, we get off at 5pm. after traffic and everything, this would be a 6 hour round trip. i would not get home until 11 pm. it would literally be my entire day. and then i would have to do it again a few days later to pick her up. AND i have to work the next day. we're not related, and i haven't known her that long, so i really dont want to this

a little while ago, she texts me about the trip, and i tell her there are grayhound tickets for around 100$ (this is about what she would pay for gas) and she starts getting upset with me because i said i would take her ( i did, in her defense, but i should be allowed to change my mind, especially when ive had time to think about it outside of work. she sprung this on me in the middle of a shift, im not sure how accountable i should be held for a soft yes in a luch rush, but i digress)

this is where she starts trying to guilt trip me, saying that she has no one else who can take her, and that the tickets were already bought. i offered to buy her the grayhound tickets because i do feel bad and i do want her to see her family. but she just kept asking me if the bus would get her there in time (no it wont because she works until five and they dont run that late)

like, i feel bad, but with the way she's just acted, i really, really dont want to drive her for a total of 6 hours.

TL;DR: my coworker sprung a "drive me to the airport" question at me at work, i said yes, but after realizing its a very long drive, i changed my mind, i offered to pay for a bus ticket, but their times conflict with her plans. so aita?

#lucien.png

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spacefinch · 10 months

Text

Watching Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home

(With my mom)

(Context: we were watching this on an airplane flight.)

🛰 hi earthlings (from the mysterious space probe)

Mom: Can we go back a minute or so? So I can hear the sounds?

Me: Sure

Me: Spoiler: they will go to earth (after the Federation tells them not to go back because it’s too dangerous)

Mom: Of course they have to now!

Wheeeeeeeee whheeoooooo (my interpretation of the weird space probe noises)

“Hi there”

Sound familiar? (When Uhura is translating the probe noises into whale songs)

🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨RED ALERT

Sarek: I did not come here for this disaster

(Avengers Endgame Hulk voice) TIME TRAVEL!

Me: What do you like so far?

Mom: I like how they work together calmly and trust each other to do their jobs.

Problem solved, Spock. As long as they don’t see your ears…

I need better over ear headphones (this is unrelated to my comment about Spock’s disguise)

Don’t you just hate it when a cloaked spaceship lands in your park?

“Everybody remember where we parked!!” (Us at Disneyland)

Mom: I liked that line too

“Well, double dumbass on you!”

$100

“Is that a lot?”

Also: Kirk handing out the money like they’re on vacation. “Here is your vacation money children, now go and spend it”

“Nuclear wessels”

(Looking for the nuclear wessels in Alameda)

“It’s in Alameda”

In other news, the floor is made out of floor

It’s the Monterey Bay Aquarium!

They are NOT sugarcoating the environmental concern in this movie. I haven’t watched that many modern movies with the guts to do that.

Kirk: Dang it Spock what are you thinking

Me explaining to my mom: Spock’s probably doing a Vulcan mind meld with the whale. It means he can read the whale’s thoughts.

“They are not the hell your whales”

Compassion for someone does not mean you respect them because they are smart. It means you care about them, no matter how alike or unlike them you are

Nothing gets past Dr. Gillian Taylor.

Gillian: “Do you like Italian?”

Kirk and Spock:

Yes

Kirk (to Spock): “I like Italian, and so do you.”

“Computer!”

“Hello computer!”

Scotty types like a grandparent

He’s too used to 23rd century technology

What

I thought they were doing drink orders. (When the flight attendant on our plane was serving drinks)

Busted!

“I’m from Iowa. I only work in outer space.”

Me: My bum hurts from sitting down for so long

Mom: Can you shift around a little?

Me: Not much

Mom: Just make sure to keep your feet out of the aisle

Me: Aye, I will.

Uh oh.

Chekov was definitely sassing the military guys in that one scene.

Unlike Spock, who genuinely does not understand some human metaphors

Oof.

The whales are gone!

I’d be upset too if I didn’t get to say goodbye to them.

“My god, what is this, the dark ages?”

“He? You came in with a she!”

Kirk, pushing Chekov back onto the hospital stretcher:“Not now, Pavel”

Chekov, his eyes enormous: You PUSH Pavel? You push him like the button? Oh! Oh! Jail for Keptin! Jail for Keptin for One Thousand Years!

Technobabble.

So much technobabble.

“Admiral, there be whales here!”

Rare instance of Bones and Spock being nice to each other instead of roasting each other

Wheeeeee wheeeeeooooooo

Hang on tight!

This is as loud as I can get it!

The whale songs are so pretty.

And we never did find out out where the probe came from, nor where did it go. Something something cotton eyed Joe.

Party time! Everyone in the water!

It’s the Enterprise!!!!!!!!

#star trek #Star Trek iv #the voyage home #finch watches Star Trek #the one with the whales

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taikanyohou · 2 years

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Can I ask you something? If Bls fetishize gay men, is there really anyway to ethically consume any series at all?

hiiii anon!!!!

oh good question.

ok. so. i think recent bl's, i'd say .... from 2020-ish, maybe even 2018/2019 tbh, have taken that step forward where, they're tryna move away from blantant fetishising, and become more progressive, not just towards gay men, but the asian queer community in general, and anyone who identifies themselves within that community.

that being said, of course there will be instances where queer asian people, including queer asian men, will be fetishised.

i think the biggest example in terms of progression has been in the sheer amount different genres of asian queer shows that are produced, and in addition to that, in the increasing number of people who both behind the cameras and in front of them identify as asian and queer too.

also i feel like the way sex is used in asian queer shows has shifted. yes, of course, there are still instances of rape/non-con/dub-con, but there was a time when sex was Literally Only used within asian queer shows For That Only. now? sex is used to explore dynamics, explore feelings, progress a story, progress a relationship. its treated as a character, in a sense, and given some meaning and substance. also, that includes the whole top/bottom discourse too. like. i think there's just more looseness and freedom to it now? like. yeah, some characters LIKE bottoming, some LIKE topping, some ARE versatile! for example, i call pete from kinnporsche a pillow princess ALL the time, and thats bc he IS. thats with no malice or rudeness or any intent to fetishise him as being all weak and delicate, usually the traits that are associated with "being a bottom", bc he isnt weak or delicate! but during sex, he LIKES being the taker, he likes receiving, and that plays a huuuuge part in his character's development later on in the show.

i'd also say "coming out stories" have recently not been .... THAT heavily used, within recent shows that i have watched? and thats not to say that coming out stories arent important! of course they are. or there's a lesser case of characters having internalised homophobia, filled with shame and self-loathing bc they realise they're queer, in recent shows i have watched. thats not to say they dont question who they are, they do, but they dont hate themselves for being queer. its more a case of exploration. and its so nice to see that for a change? asian queer characters being gentle on themselves, learning to treat themselves with patience and time to navigate their identity. and its so nice to also see asian queer characters for a change who are just, queer! loud and queer!

what i'm trying to say is that they are all stories at the end of the day. and all forms of story telling, from healthy to toxic, from stories of kids in school to students in uni to working adults, from coming out stories to stories that talk about sparking a political revolution, stories that are coming of age or a slice of life, stories that span all types of backgrounds and time periods, should be able to be told. and sometimes they'll have characters that are already so comfortably queer in their own skin and some that aren't, and there'll be some stories that are more tame in terms of how physical they are and like to explore the more emotional nuances of the story and some that like to explore sex in a multitude of ways. there's really no right or wrong in terms of wanting to set out a story and choosing which way to tell it. the scope is so huge.

now. like i said. not every asian queer piece of media will be faultless, and there will be instances of fetishisation. but i also want to look at how far we've come! i've been around watching asian queer media since ... god .... i cant even remember how long, its been that long, and ive seen how far we've come. as an asian queer person myself, it gives me so much pride and joy in seeing that!

and i think, the older and more mature i have gotten, my mindset has changed a lot. now, i like to see stories and media as a whole thing. that, yes, there will be faults and its not going to be perfect. but as someone who can compartmentalise, as a consumer, as an audience member, as an asian queer person, as someone who is watching this as a form of escapism, i'll recognise the faults and the things i'm not fond of, or that dont sit right with me, and put them to one side, and still allow myself to enjoy the rest of the story/media. otherwise, i'll never be able to enjoy anything ever again, if i scrutinise every single little thing and every little detail ethically. like i said, not everything will sit right with me, but i can work with that and say "yeah i didnt like that narrative choice" and put it to a side, and move on. and if its reeeeeeally bugging me, i'll just drop the show. now, some people like doing that (scrutinising every little detail through ethical lenses) and thats their choice in how they view media. but ig i'm not like that? and i can let myself enjoy asian queer stories that are trying to say something, to convey something, as a bigger picture.

and yeah, there will be instances where queer characters in asian media will get fetishised, there will be the whole "husband and wife" and "girls on campus stalking a queer couple" etc etc etc. but i can look at all that and say to myself, yeah, work needs to be done here, whilst also enjoying the rest of the show and what its trying to convey or tell.

so yeah, i do think you can, if as a consumer, you can appreciate the bigger picture whilst also understanding that we've still got some room for progress.

#faiza answers

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squireofgeekdom · 1 year

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perpetually obsessed with the storytelling/character/meta brilliance of the decision to have pike know about the accident in his future

further obsessed with the added layer of brilliance of the decision to have spock also know that pike knows

further further obsessed with the decision to have a substantial part of pike’s decision to accept that future be rooted in protecting spock from a similar fate (and protecting spock’s future), and then to have spock also know that

yes obviously after the snw s2 trailer i am back in my feelings pit how did you guess it’s almost like i told you before or something XD

because like. there’s the nature of doing something set before an established story of knowing where the status quo has to end up. and when you bring in known characters from an established story you know where those characters have to end up.

with bringing in chris pike in discovery s2, you know that the answer to ‘what happens to chris pike’ was set over 50 years ago by a two-part episode ‘the menagerie’ (that contains all of the on-screen content of the mainverse version of the character up to that point, by basically re-airing the unaired pilot as clips, and an off-ramp from future stories by leaving pike on talos iv)

so what do you do with the fact that a share of your audience is going to be going ‘oh no, i know what happens to this character’ - and on a broader level, that you are telling a story where you know where some of the pieces have to end up (though very cleverly by their discovery-to-the-far-future prequel-sequel switcheroo, not all, i want to shake hands with the creative team who came up with that)

you give an on-screen story that’s wrestling with ‘oh i know how this ends’. you give the character where people know ‘oh no, i know what happens to this character’ the knowledge of ‘oh no, i know what happens to me’ and you have that aspect of the audience’s pov in this character and being wrestled with in this story as a mirror (and it also lets folks who haven’t seen tos in on context folks who have seen or are otherwise familiar with tos have, which is *chef’s kiss*), it’s so brilliant, i also want to shake hands with the creative team who came up with that

it’s not something that would have worked with a character like spock, or in snw, uhura, where there’s so much we know with what happens to them that trying and picking through and then thinking about what that changes in terms of framing would be far too complicated and involve too many asspulls. pike is just about perfectly set up for it because what we know about what happens to him is so contained and set as an ending -- and works out specifically so that if you cut his foreknowledge off with the accident, it is going through and trying to face a tragedy and still have it be a meaningful piece of self sacrifice - as it’s originally framed as in tos, and not knowing that will be mitigated in the context of the existing narrative

and speaking of mitigation. we get to spock.

having spock know that pike knows - but not know the full details - is such a fascinating and good choice, because it just subtly shifts the framing where pike’s accident is no longer something that would come as a tragic shock, it’s something spock has known is coming for ~seven years, but not known the exact details of. he knows that pike chose to go forward anyway, that he was prepared and accepted the nature of whatever sacrifice, whatever ‘death of the man he was’ was coming. the layers that adds to spock saying ‘and i’m going to choose to try and make up for some of that sacrifice, to give back whatever’s possible to the man i knew, whatever sacrifice that means for me’ is. a lot.

because they do so much in s2 of discovery to set up parallels to the menagerie. ‘hey you know how spock took his ship against orders and ran away with it off to this forbidden off limits planet for pike in tos? here’s pike before that taking his ship against orders and running away with it off to the same forbidden off limits planet for spock in tos’

you chose to risk yourself for me. i choose to risk myself for you.

(”Starfleet... is a promise. I give my life for you; you give your life for me. And nobody gets left behind.” - thanks for putting it so succinctly Chris)

that then giving spock the knowledge that pike’s self sacrifice is in part related to sparing himself adds yet another layer. ‘i accept that you willingly choose to sacrifice for me. but i am also going to willingly choose to sacrifice for you.’

(and the layers of potential implication from chris being told by his future self that spock’s future is important and the implication inherent in chris’s choice of sacrifice choosing spock’s future over his own and spock’s decision in the menagerie then having the framing of saying, no i still have a choice in my future and i’m making this choice even if it risks my future, i’m making this choice so you can have a choice about your future’ im. the fact that you can reframe foreknowledge of a story that by the nature of the shared universe you’re working in you actually can’t change as still having deep threads of choice. despite having acceptance be an important part of the character with foreknowledge’s story. ohboy. it’s a lot. *spock voice* fascinating)

and that’s brilliant and just makes me wail about these two even more. everything they do to frame the menagerie and pike and spock just. absolutely brilliant. (and i really hope saying that isn’t jinxing it for s2 lol)

(“eleven years four months and five days“)

anyway i have already written about this a fair bit in fic and am currently writing MORE fic but it turns out i just need to yell more! about it!!

#writing fanfic for these two is not enough i need to chew through drywall #squire going to strange new worlds #squire on discovery #squire trekking the stars #r: you are very important to me

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lightofunova · 11 months

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DONT MIND IF I DO i arrive precisiely on time like im pepsi man, and you cant expect pepsi man of all people to be anonyous

where do i START? thats the greatest hurdle thats been presented to me today. and, you know, as i send this, ive kind of come to a realization.. that, like??? 99% of our conversations are via my streams, and i feel like thats FUCKED UP thats my bad and i apologize for that. i need to make an effort to DM more because you are such a bright light!!! literally every time youve ever popped in, said hello and gone to work; every time you helped me in pokemon; or kept company on drawings- its the highlight of the day!!!!!

youre so exquisitely yourself, you know?

youre like... i dont know if this metaphor is gonna resonate with you, but youre like when theres a really tough day. the universe is testing you, and youre tired. you go, you sit down, and you pick up a familiar game where just its sight brings you comfort. resting back, you alight the game, and you just.. enjoy. thats what your energy is like. your presence is a comfort, and you brighten the day. youre good. youre just really good. thank you for being in this community and allowing us to partake in this silly adventure we call askblogging

also, i try to not play favorites, but bah gawd, reshi is definitely up there as one of my all times. such a great character whom i love unconditionally. youve done well, and i cant wait to enjoy more of the story you wish to tell, and i really appreciate the effort you put into it. its a delight and a blessing to enjoy your content. thank you again

NDJFJDBSBSB YOURE TOO KIND HONESTLY- Ill be honest sometimes I really dont feel like I deserve such sweet words from others haha, when I first read this I thought that for a moment. But honestly this really resonated with me once I reread it, it means alot to be surrounded by such amazing people who see me in such a wonderful light and enjoy me just being me? Sometimes I get worried that me being me feels kinda like,,,a third wheel LOL or like my ideas arnt as interesting or cool as others. But its people like you that really help build me up and get past all that.

Honestly seeing you stream can be such a highlight to my day and it gives me something to listen to while I’m busy drawing or going about my morning! Even thought we don’t talk in dms too much, it makes me happy to chat on stream and just chill cus the vibes are always immaculate haha.

And honestly oml the metaphor is just too kind 🥹🥹🥹 I completely know what you mean XD i’ve been there so many times myself and have done it alooot the past few days(hgss shiny hunting rn, no luck on starters so far haha) But gah you’re too kind honestly, It always makes me so happy that people like reshi in all her silly forms and aus(i feel i saturate her alot in some places and that sometimes people get sick of her,,,shes my main child im sorry LOL i play favs) but knowing people love her honestly make me giddy and happy because it makes me feel like I can craft a story with her or make a game with her. It makes my dream feel real, yaknnow??

Anyways i’ll stop ramblin haha you’ve made my night so much better esp after a tougg shift and I just appreciate it so much, thank you for everything truly

#also late happ borth im sorry i missed it waaaa #mod #dl #ooc #tired mod tired #but gushin about ocs is fun #today was tough but it was good #im making it through everything 💙💙💙

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