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mysteriouslybluepirate · 1 year

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Heartbeat(1997)-Watching Con O'Neill's old stuff cause it's fun. Day #? REX HAWKINS!

Heartbeat S07-Ep.16 The Queen’s Message

Should you watch this?

It’s fun, you don’t need context for the series, and its a full story. Fun for what it is. Con in this is wet and pathetic. It’s 50 minutes, and another one-off thing. Not as fun as Pie in the Sky, still a good time.

As always, thanks to my mutual Con lovers! If you haven't watched it, skip this, as always! I hope everyone has a great week!

@dianetastesmetal @gydima @ivegotnonameidea @treesofgreen @vicsuragi

That was his milk! Fucking rude.

How about we never borrow money ever again! Why is it so easy to get in debt with the mob? Maybe it's my small-town roots showing, but damn.

Also, I’m jealous, why does Con's characters get choked out so often? That and the gun thing!

Are we allowed to hate the cops in this one, 'cause I already do

This had to have been made in the 90s

THIS IS THE DOCTOR ONE!!!!! The one where Con is in that white coat?

How are half the people in this looking like its still the 60s, love interest’s hair is interesting

Help Calude! He’s just an old guy, Jesus lady.

The most homeless-looking man with a homeless-looking dog.

G-man(half-life) Con Look

Who embroiders a Doctor’s jacket like that, it looks a mechanics smock

This is Cons character from ‘Vengeance is Mine’s backstory.

Con is named Rex Hawkings yeah?

HE’S A MECHANIC!?! Oh, he’s a handyman.

WHEN DOES THIS SHOW TAKE PLACE? Color TV’s? Weren’t they common in the 90s?

OH GOOD! HE’S NOT HOMELESS

That's a lil gremlin dog

Okay, the poor guy broke his antique, Rex sings in a choir and has a few ladies after him, then got shoved down the steps. A cop is suspicious of his motives

Weird hat lady totally influenced someone to push Rex.

Oh, Nevil did it with ladies' help, cool

THE CHIN STRAPS ON BOBBY HELMETS AHHHH

'LOL BAXTER'. Oh to be named Lol. That is a bard DND name begging to be stolen.

Her eyelashes bug me a bit, and I have no clue why.

Lol is waiting at Rex’s shop, great, lets have the mom be a witness.

“You finger me, you tell the cops?” EXCUSE ME? Is that what Lol just said?

The amount Con is able to spit in every role he’s in shocks me.

Calling the cops won't do shit babe, he's being strangled right now.

Oh Good, another Con character who knows to be careful with what you say to the cops

I feel for the homeless-looking guy, he’s just not given any slack.

Shit, well, damn. Rex is kinda fucked.

Oh good, you need to swindle a shit ton of people to make the money back. Lovely situation you got going on there Rex.

He’s not too careful about not being seen near Rex in public, is Lol.

The fact they kept a dog quiet that long in the back of a car is shocking. Also, clown car. That was like 12 guys.

HHALKJSDAHS Looney Tunes run into a door trick

Haaahakjlja Fucking love him, smashes the antique, great

Well, at least Rex got to sing at the thing at least. To an audience of fifteen or so people.

HAAAAAAAAhahaha they replaced his part with a child!!!!

I thought the Queen's Speech was also done through the radio, that’s the whole thing. Let the public hear it.

You know, I want this same setup, but Con’s character is like, way more of a dangerous criminal. Not an incidental criminal, but has to keep up these two lives

Con’s panicking is very funning

It is obvious that he just wants protection

“Will that do?” *SMASHES PHONE.* He’s dumb and way too scared to survive prison.

LOL IS IN LOCKED IN THE SAME JAIL CELL AS RALPH!!!!!

That feels illegal. In so many ways.

Oh look, they’re vibin.

Scared Con is always kind of fun.

God I don’t know most Christmas carols, huh.

Whelp, Rex is imprisoned with the same guy who was threatening his life, and everything else is back to normal.

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Overall, not bad. I watched this one with the brother, so my commentary was a bit more sparse this time. We made a ton of ‘Vengeance is Mine’ x ‘This show’ jokes, which was very fun. I swear, he remembers that movie better than I do which was funny. My favorite joke being that guns magically respawn around Con's characters, and he just needs to find a kit. Go out and get rid of Lol.

This is one of the few characters where Con got to be scared as shit without any way to fight back. It’s funny that the whole plot revolves around Rex being kind of a piece of shit, and the cops don’t care. It doesn't really work for me.

Seriously, he rented out broken TVs. Which is scummy, yeah, but not the worst thing, and it’s not like he did it on purpose! You know how many broken LED TVs get returned every holiday season? It’s kinda normal for a ton of them to be shit. I guess he’s also kinda a dick for getting that one guy kicked out of the church choir, but it wasn’t that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things. Idk, I was a bit more sympathetic to Rex than I was supposed to be? But that’s kinda common for these shows with Con being a guest star. Especially when he’s as pathetic as Rex is.

I have no idea what this whole show is about. If the cops are the main focus or not. I liked the poor guy, he was generally fun. Everyone else just felt vaguely off putting. Might just be the dated lingo, this came out in 1997’ so…

CON: 8/10. Really fun. Wet, pathetic, and this is one of his earlier roles, like 1 or 2 years after Pie in the Sky and Soldier Soldier. Cool for him to morally be a wrong and not an actual threat to anybody. His singing was great, and he gave a solid performance. Scared little rat man.

It’s dated, and it feels like it’s from its time. Generally, I don’t like town gossip stories and that is what this is. I wonder how this all ties into the rest of the show, but I have no want to go find out. Not bad though.

(I also used my Con drinking game for this, and was well-hydrated!)

Solid 7-8/10. Great time!

#Con's Conography #con o'neill #con oneill #heartbeat #this feels like a really early appearence for him #but he's literally 31 in this #I look older right now than he does #which is bullshit #I need his gender #please and thank you #I'm sorry for giving hints and then choosing another project #his slutty look here tempted me #Also #I know that being able to edit after you add a poll is bad cause you could falsify what people vote for #but the amount of spelling errors I have found on my posts with polls unable to edit is sad #thanks for reading this #go drink water #you filthy animals

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rewind-reviews · 1 year

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So I’ve Been Playing... Wolfenstein: The New Order

Shooters are the genre I play the most, one of the first PC games I ever played was DOOM 2 and I have been hooked ever since. Be it trying one of the classics like Blood or something a little more recent like Postal Brain Damaged I will play them all but there is one franchise I always come back to, Wolfenstein.

Wolfenstein 3D captivated me when I was a kid even if I had games like Quake to play I would always gravitate to Wolfenstein, something was amazing about the early 3D to me so was the way the game managed to tell its story with no words just get up, kill some nazis and escape against unspeakable odds. Growing up I was always excited when a new game would come out the 2009 "remake" got me so excited I would watch the trailer almost daily hoping to one day get my hands on it. But those games aren't what we are talking about, I want to talk about the 2014 reboot Wolfenstein: The New Order.

Wolfenstein: The New Order was developed by MachineGames and is a soft reboot of the franchise. Unlike previous instalments focuses entirely on a single-player experience with no multiplayer component. Because of this the story needed to be top notch and man does it deliver.

(spoilers ahead)

The story begins in 1846 with our protagonist captain William "B.J." Blazkowicz flying into Deathshead's compound to put an end to the mad scientist who is creating not only super soldiers and advanced weaponry but also mechanical monsters prolonging the war and leading towards a Nazi victory. BJ is joined but two notable soldiers. Commander Fergus Reid BJ's right-hand man and a very headstrong, capable and overall brilliant tactician and private Probst Wyatt III, who unlike Fergus is overwhelmed by the horrors of the war that he is forced to witness at the young age of 18. After fighting your way up the shore, scaling the walls of the compound and losing countless men in the prosses you gain entry to Deathshead's lab only to be ambushed.

This moment is when I fell in love with this game. You are forced to make a choice, who will die Wyatt or Fergus? This choice breaks me every single time I play this game, the weight of this choice is so hard to put into words. By the time you get to this choice which is only about an hour into the game, you have spent so much time around these two people that you love them both. Do you save the kid who barely had a chance to live his life before war changed it forever or do you save BJ's best friend?

No matter who you save you escape but are wounded leaving a chunk of metal in BJ's brain. Luckily you are found by a polish doctor who along with his wife and daughter Anya care for you for fourteen years until asylum is shut down, everyone inside is executed by the hand of the Nazis and Anya is taken. After fighting your way out, saving Anya and stealing a car you flee to a safe place. Your mission is to find the resistance and to finish what you started 14 years ago, Kill Deathshead and put an end to Nazi reign.

Okay, enough story I don't wait to spoil all of it for you. So how does the game play? Its a modern take on a classic shooter, nearly every room you walk into in MOST missions is full of enemies for you to blast your way through however you see fit maybe, you want to hide behind cover and take them out one at a time, maybe you want to charge forward with a fully automatic shotgun in both hands or (and here is how I played most of the game) you sneak through prioritising which enemies you take out first, who can raise the alarm? who is strongest? if I get seen can I recover? will I survive? However you choose to play you will have an arsenal to back you up everything from the previously mentioned fully automatic shotguns, to assault rifles even a bulky metal monstrosity that can take down most enemies in one hit. You can also unlock different perks by completing challenges which is where I have an issue. The perks are extremely useful in this game letting you hold more ammo or grenades healing on stealth takedowns things along those lines. However unlocking these can be a nightmare. At the start of most missions, you lose all of your weapons leaving you with your laser gun and a knife sometimes a pistol if you are lucky, plus there are no guarantees you will get the gun you need to unlock that perk you so desperately want making the unlocks harder than they need to be.

During the later stages of the game as the locations and battles get more and more insane some of the enemies become way too hard to kill, and yes it makes sense in the context of the game but fighting them becomes less exciting and more of a chore or hell sometimes its straight up unfair. starting a level with next to no ammo and having to fight two heavily armoured shotgun-wielding nazis is a terrible experience that I honestly never want to slog through again. However, the story really is when this game shines the most, every location and character this game shows you is perfect they all show you how war affects different people. Wyatt or Fergus resent the fact they are alive and the war has cost them a life they never got to live, BJ is desperately holding on to a dream of the future with the woman he loves where he can one day be happy. Max learns that he needs to fight after the death of his father. Even Deathshead shows his own goals and has his reasons to keep fighting, there were moments in this game that crushed me making me feel like fighting this war is pointless, like I have no reason to carry on and there were others where I felt I had to fight to save the character I love so much or to crush the oppressive force that took someone from me pushing me forward to end this seemingly endless fight.

Does Wolfenstein: The New Order have its issues? yes, Is it a perfect game? no. There are a few minor things I didn't mention here like constantly taking fall damage or needing to be super precise while cutting paths leading to pointless deaths, but would I recommend you play this game? absolutely. I haven't been this quickly attached to characters in a long time. There are moments this game makes you feel you are fighting a battle you can't possibly win but you need to keep fighting, you need to be the bastion of hope.

Anyway, I gotta go I think I need to rest before a new colossus shows up.

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randomraytrash · 1 year

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Fanfic trash I dump here

This is part of a fic Idea I had Part 1 here.

Synopse: Dhawan!Master fakes being O the spy way longer, because he lost his Tardis and he need a lift from the Doctor’s (you know Missy? Yeah, she regenerate without one and I find funny the idea of a confuse Master searching his Tardis like me, after two hours shopping in a big store with more parking spots than the whole population fo my country, with remote car key in hand like a dowsing rod, searching for any sound or light my car could be making, asking if I just lost her, or somebody stole my precious and battered up car.)

Also the Master has a Masterplan (pun intended), but he just find himself in this weird situation where he’s fighting the Doctor’s Tardis and actively loosing, bc she’s a petty bitch (affectionate) and didn’t forget the fricking cannibalization he did a while ago. On top of that the Doctor keeps almost dying? Like how can he have his Revenge and make her suffer, if she can’t stay safe for five.Damn.MINUTES?!

Disclaimer: The timeless child crap didn’t happen. The Doctor is a regular weird Time Person/Lady/Lord and an intergalactic hobo on too many energy drinks, no second coming of Christ, thank you very much.

The Master as O TCEd all the enemies he faced with the Doctor collecting them like action figurine. For him it’s becoming an hobby, like doing taxidermy, just with human and non-human being.

Makes sense he can’t kill everyone just yet, not in the dramatic way he want to do, so he just pocked the enemy to makes them suffer later, without too much of an audience. Call it self-care. Somebody does face cleanse and moisturize, he collect dead pocket size people and re-enact their deaths completed with dramatic sound effect on his kitchen table.

The Doctor doesn’t see the horrors and he relaxs his maniac state in a much more calm e sober - as much chill a person with too much energy on his neurons and non-existent control of impulses can get- state.

To be fair, he didn’t exactly hide his hobby that much. He’s good with planning, but forget the details and gets sloppy over time. Not in the good parts, never in the good parts -the Doctor-, but that was a hobby and it slipped from him mind.

Maybe he wanted a good reason to make the new companions despair tragically, they discover him and he has no other choice adding them on his collection. He wants to expand, you know? Collecting is fun, but so boring, maybe he can start working with resine and making pretty coffee tables with his enemy incorporated inside, or companions keychains.

Fam discover his little - growing - collection of miniaturized corpses (some of them in pieces post-mortem because the re-enacting of their death went a bit too far, and they really annoyed him pretty badly) and going “ahah, good work O, absolutely normal coping mechanism, not creepy at all! Is that a Dalek keychain? Oh, it’s so ingenious, can I have one too?”

The Master finds himself being unexpectedly happy bc finally somebody appreciate his artistic talent. Who could have told? Humans finally evolving good taste?!

These stupid companions are good, he can tollerate them some more time. As long as they don’t tell the Doctor -because O is shy of his artistic talent, obv, not bc the Doctor may be dumb, but not that dumb to not realized that they have stabilized corpses as keychains -.

(((The Master intergalactic ex-dictator president and resident wannabe cat, taking home corpses as gift. Fam the unsuspecting family who thinks the cat is only taking in leaves and saying “What a good hunter, aren’t you? Are you defending the house, you big boy? Yes, you are, yes, you are.” But the leaves are in fact the corpses of their enemies as magnanimous gifts.))

One day Yaz discovers they are the real enemies and not some sort of plastiline figurine or weird hobby. She watches them closely, sees the despair on their faces, the terror and remembers where she already saw them.

The Master thinks it’s finally time to add Yaz the Companion to his collection -it’d be his Magnus opera, he’d treat her with the max respect he can muster for a living being-, but instead the human woman looks him dead in the eyes and says:

“They tried to kill the Doctor.”

“Yes, indeed they did, but that wasn’t the main reason they are like that.” The Master want to reply. He’d be lying of course, bc they indeed tried to kill the Doctor and he couldn't let it happen.

But he can’t, because Yaz hasn’t finished yet.

“Fair enough, got what they deserved, keep going.”

He likes to think he’s corrupting the human companions of the Doctor, but he’s warm with -disgusting- feelings at those words.

But he can work with that.

He discovered that keeping the Doctors alive until his great revenge is hard work, he doesn’t need help, not at all. He is the Master, terror of the Universe and Evil incarnate, he is *not* loosing his shit trying to keep his best enemy alive to kill her himself in a Great Revenge. Not a all. But manipulating somebody to help is nice.

Yep. Yep. A minion who does the work for him! He’s so evil!

(He is not, in fact, manipulating anybody unless you count himself.)

And so it began the teamwork manipulation with Yaz the Human, to keep the Doctor alive for her demise by his hands!

(Yaz, in meantime, thinks O, the strange spy, with his so badly hidden fanboy admiration for the Doctor is super cute, and fair enough, she is mature enough to share. Girls fighting for a love interest is so 2010. They both can have the Doctor.)

#Doctor Who #dhawan!master #o doctor who #Yaz Doctor Who #Yaz khan #The Master makes a friend #No he cannot act normal about it #Listen I love graham and Ryan but they are dumb as the Doctor sometimes #Yaz and the Master #Moral Grey Besties #Thirteen doctor #The Tardis still the queen of the House #The master playing with his victim like figurines with dramatic sound effects plays rent free in my brain #Since I saw Delgado!Master watching cartoons and singing along #It's delgado!Master fault #I admit many things are Master!Delgado fault the dramatic bitch (derogative)

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non-electrical-outlet · 1 month

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Formal and Informal Therapy

I've been experiencing reduced cognitive function (subjectively); inability to focus or at least significant difficulty with it, poor memory, frequent alcohol and constant nicotine use are likely contributing factors. I have also not done any consistent aerobic exercise, and it just kinda feels like I'm in poor psycho-physiological health.

I've also been having pretty frequent diarrhea within a few hours after each meal which, according to Dr. Google, means I have IBS. Hopefully it's transient and resolves with improved self-care measures, but the opposite end of the spectrum of thoughts about it include concerns that I have a bowel cancer of some kind.

I would assume the patterns of behavior and cognition I am presenting with are consistent with an anxiety disorder, but I'm hesitant to classify it as a disorder since it seems obvious that other areas of physical health are responsible. However, I think that poor mental health as a symptom of poor physical health is often overlooked, and while it may be classifiable as an anxiety disorder, I would not seek medication as a treatment option just yet.

I feel that medication for mental health is appropriate if the patient is unable to identify the physical health roots of the issue, and that simply isn't the case for me. It is apparent that I am able to function at a higher level (As evidenced by previous levels of function in previously healthier physical states), and I strongly believe that if I can return to similar levels of physical health then my mental and cognitive processes will similarly improve. I would also like to see if my GI symptoms resolve with these improvements before consulting my doctor about them.

What are the improvements I need to make? : 1. Exercise: regular aerobic exercise improves cardiovascular health, the benefits of which are systemic (b/c improved blood flow = improved O2 and nutrient flow) and would include tissue repair and neural nutrient supply. Related would be:

2. Smoking cessation: nicotine adversely affects blood flow and is almost certainly a key factor in my current misery.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Just got off the phone with Zoe. She's dealing with a lot right now. Obviously that's not a good thing objectively, but subjectively I think the desire to be a strong support for her will be a decent motivator to finally make some significant and lasting changes in my life.

I threw my current disposable vape into the big trash can in the garage. I'm resolved to let it stay there, I have nicorette already, I just need to use it.

I always feel the need to make paradigm shift levels of change in my life when I feel this way. I always think that, because the number of factors that led me to this point is so large, the number of changes I need to make at one time must be large too. Yes, the number of changes needed is large, but the number of changes I am able to make at a time is little. I never feel like i know where to begin.

But maybe the only way to move forward is to just start. Forget about prioritizing for efficiency and just make one change at a time; I also need to seek out therapy, start using my planner to keep track of things, eat healthier and more consistently, clean my room, take better care of my teeth, study enough to pass my classes, show up for and learn from my clinicals, develop a better relationship with my dad, take my car to the mechanic to make sure it lasts me long enough to graduate, figure out what I'm going to do with my extra time in the summer, worry about the genocide in Palestine, worry about the state of American government and politics, balance my other classes with OB,

But for today, I've thrown away my vape. I have my nicorrete in my pocket. I've got clinical prep to get done. Maybe I'll go for a run. Take another shit because of my IBS. Figure out a good time to call my doctor. Take a sip of coffee. Take a deep breath.

One thing at a time.

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devil99stevo99 · 2 months

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Imaginary Andy here. Well as people probably don’t know I went to the bank today. I went to the Royal Cave and apparently I was banned from there so I went to the TSB who had been to 1st. And I couldn’t get in there either my card has been blocked. Sounds Abbey National. Oh my car didn’t work, but apparently I’d left my card in there by accident when I went to the other bank, and apparently there’s another Andy Johnson in town. I thought it was Siobhan is doing but it wasn’t. So I phoned up the Royal Cave and told them of the matter and they said it stopped my card. Sending me another and I’m going to meet with the manager next week. Maybe Nashnal could amusing I’m using my Yorkshire bank card, and on using my Skot Vania card. I’ve just had a weird conversation with Lola about banking. I know I loaned her my other card but it’s pretty weird. I mean they went in there probably saying they were me but they didn’t Say they were me if that makes any sense. Lola has had a weird day at the hospital she went in for two till six shift. There was a guy he’s been injected with the wrong blood. And the doctors are doing absolutely nothing she’s making them listen there’s been a trial. They’ve managed to save him on the last minute. Also a family were told off because they asked Lola if they could end this man’s life, so they could have the money.

imaginary Charles here. The garage is absolutely heaving today. Well I got there just after 1 o’clock I’ve been at the building site all morning because the scaffold is next door and also people are just fly tipping willy-nilly some having to move all that to the shopfloor. Also a lot of into the workshop. There’s been sand and cement have been sold today and some wood has come in. also I’ve had to do some drilling for my boss. I went to the garage this afternoon after lunch and there was two cars that won’t get done till next week because I need to order a gearbox. I rang up the garage on Leanes bank Street. He said that they were going to drop off two gearboxes. I spoke to Peeter and said can I put one car in your garage until a couple weeks and he said I could. then I got a call from Mij. He was shouting on the phone about the building again. I’ve already told him that the overheads shouldn’t charge us any more than it needs to. There is a massive dampener on what or what not to do on this. One of the cars I was fixing had a violent was in a violent crash. I’m ringing up for the scrapyard to come and take it. we’ve had two Mazda MX4 and MX5 sports cars in. Plus there was a lady who came in and she brought her husbands car in. Everything seem complicated, but I told her that a husband done something to the gearbox because it just kept spinning and spinning. I didn’t have the time to medal with it unfortunately because time is running out and I had four cars coming in for MOT. Around my friend Cliff is picking up the car tomorrow and is going to get it sorted. Well it looks like I was supposed to forecast Cummins MOT, but I had five cars coming into MOT. And another car for service. I had a row with one of the customers because I said it need further altercations which could’ve failed the MOT. He said it didn’t need any notifications and he could’ve seen to it and he didn’t. He said he didn’t like my turn my attitude, and he was going to take the car elsewhere. Addison Runciman said any of the mechanic the time the same thing. he told me that any other mechanic other ones he knew wouldn’t and tell him anything different. I said look I can show you and paper want me to do it and he told me to shove my paper right up my arse jumped in his car and sped off. The next car came in for an MOT was a Land Rover and I could just tell from opening the bonnet that the spark plugs needed a bit of a clean. It did pass its MOT but because the customer was pretty kind I said I would do what I could to make the car pass its MOT. But I said that I couldn’t do another MOT and that has to go to the garage but I could get it sorted so wouldn’t sell its next MOT. Then there were two more cars that came in one car was a Nissan note. It was a really good car. It looked like it was running pretty well so that passed pretty nicely. the owner of the car said they were changing the tires on the front so I told them of someone I knew and rang them up to see if I could get a discount. Sadly the garage is closed so I called Diane on his mobile, he headed straight over in his car and fitted the tires there and then. so I do for him a pint.

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percontaion-points · 1 year

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Client No 5 chapters 23 & 24, Epilogue

This book review contains discussions of sw; reader discretion is advised

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions

Chapter 23

“What can I help you with today?” she asked.

I swallowed and uncrossed my legs. “Um, I’ve been making some bad choices in my life, and I want to make some changes.”

Again, this is fucking amazing. I’ve rarely seen a character actually seeking out therapy. And doing it of their own free will.

“All right. Well, I’ll see you the same time next week. Keep up the good work.”

Chapter 23 summary: In a super surprising move, Alison goes to see a therapist. She “word vomits” her history to the doctor. The doctor is sympathetic, but obviously wants nothing more than to help Alison move past what she views as a sex addiction that developed as a coping mechanism. She encourages Alison to get to know herself, both in the physical sense, but also mentally.

That night, Alison goes into her room and masturbates. She tells the reader that she’s not great at it, since most of her work was spent on getting her clients off, not herself.

We have a six week time-jump, where Alison goes back to the therapist. She talks about how she was offered a position at the new gym in Philadelphia, and she’s thinking about going for it. Having a 100% clean start. The doctor is on board with the thing so long as it’s what Alison wants, and says that she’ll find a list of therapists in Philly that Alison can try there.

Chapter 24

“I couldn’t change my life for you. I had to do it for myself. I had to want it, not feel like I’d done it for anyone else.”

[...]

Not everything I did revolved around him and his wants. It was my life, and I’d made changes to have the life I wanted to live.

[Image description: an image of a white or hispanic woman with chin-length, curly brown hair, and she’s wearing a blue tanktop. She looks like she’s having a really emotional moment as she’s saying something. It is captioned with “*mouthing* YAS QUEEN!”. End description]

“I got offered a job there.”

“What’s wrong with your job here?”

“What does it matter where I live?”

“I thought what happened tonight at the gym meant something for us. I thought we were both on the same page,” he said.

Dude, chill the fuck out. You haven’t seen her for the past six goddamned weeks, and then you randomly show up back in her life again. She doesn’t owe you shit.

“I don’t really know what you want from me. You didn’t want me to be a prostitute and I’m not. Now you don’t want me to work in the gym?”

“No, it’s not that. What I really want is for you to come live in Miami with me. You could work for my company—at least at first until you find something you like better. Maybe another gym down there. Or, even better, not work at all if you don’t want to.”

“Seriously? I’m not a damsel in distress. I don’t need a knight to come and save me and put me in his ivory tower, even if that tower does have amazing ocean views. I want to work. I want to earn my own money and take care of myself.”

[...]

“I do still care about you, and one day maybe there will be a chance for us to be together. I’m just not ready for that right now. I’m making some major changes to my life and to who I am. Maybe you won’t even like the new me.”

I am here for this girlboss character growth.

He turned back to give me a wistful smile as he got into the car, and I waved until the brake lights were out of sight.

Chapter 24 summary: Alison is working through getting things settled for her job transfer in 2 weeks at her work. She then goes to help spot a guy, who then awkwardly tries to proposition her. She refuses, and then pats herself on the back for a job well done.

Scott then shows up, because of course he does. He says that he literally hired a PI to track her down, because again… of course he did. He still loves her, yatta-yatta-yatta. Alison says that she’s working on herself, and isn’t ready for a relationship. Then he kisses her, and things start to get a little too heated, but Alison stops him. She gives him her new address, and tells him when she gets off work.

Her boss then mentions something else about her move, and Scott gets kind of upset about how she hadn’t told him about her upcoming move. She tells him that up until 5 minutes ago, he wasn’t in her life anymore, so she doesn’t owe him shit.

After work, she goes home, and sends Zach out to get food. Then she tells Scott that she’s accepted a job offer in Philly, so that she can finally start fresh with her new life. He gets upset, and tells her that he could have given her a job with his publishing company. She gets angry, tells him that a woman shouldn’t be financially dependent upon a guy, not even if he’s offering her a job. She also goes on to tell him that she’s not doing any of this for him, but because she was broken. That she’s going through a transformation, and he might not even like Alison. He asks that she give him a chance, and she agrees that they can talk on the phone sometimes. They kiss once before she puts him into a cab.

Epilogue

He laid me gently on the bed and pressed the length of his body against me. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Epilogue summary: Six months have passed, and Alison is now in Philadelphia. Her boss, also now there as well, calls her into her office and gives her an envelope. She’s too anxious to open and read it, so he does it for her. It’s her PT certification; she’s passed! He offers her a full-time position with the gym.

She goes home, where she tries to call Scott, but it goes to voicemail. Her brother calls her, and they agree that she’ll come to New York for the weekend so that they can celebrate. She also tells him that she wants to tell her mother about her past, even though it’ll be uncomfortable. Zach is naturally wary about how that conversation will go, but agrees that it’ll be good for her emotional healing.

Scott then shows up at her door. Alison tells the readers that although they’ve seen each other since her move, the only thing that they’ve done is “heavy petting” with clothes on. She finally asks him to take her to bed and make love to her, and the story ends on that note.

#Client No. 5 #Chapter 23 #chapter 24 #epilogue #Ally (Client No 5)#What Is Happening #it's not a bad thing #Scott Walker #yas queen #shitty men are shitty

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centuriantalevevo · 2 years

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[Your] Final Destination

TW: death, detail by detail events of death, trauma, shock, loss of a family member.

As said at the end, this entire thing is very much based on incredibly true events, and they are as accurate as my memory can give... which is too accurate for my liking. All the times put are relative exact times of each event. Some times are based on texts, and the texts in the post are almost exact word by word from IRL texts of that day. Other times are based on memory, which is very accurate. The times I remembered are THE exact times I heard. At the end is a PSA of telling those you love how much you love them and talking about taking things from granted.

If any of these things make you uncomfortable, do not read. I wrote this for my own coping mechanism, and to get it off my chest as much as I can. A person did die in this, and I see any negative comments I will be tearing you apart piece by piece. I am not afraid to commit acts of psychological warfare on you for it.

Marma

Want to watch final

Destination with me?

Nvm. I’ll just fall asleep

Final Destination 1 and 3 are

On Netflix

I should’ve said yes… If I knew it was your last day… I would’ve said yes… I would’ve been glad to watch it… Why? Why did you leave?

That’s not fair…

“You need to go to the Hospital…” It was 3 in the morning… She was in the bathroom, on the toilet. “You just want a reason to stay out of school.” She had a small laugh. I mean.. I did, of course I did. But I also wanted to see my friends. “No, I’m saying that cuz you need to. You always wait until it gets too bad.” “I have a doctors appointment tomorrow, they’ll probably just send me then.” She simply said. “All the more reason to go! They’re already gonna send you!”

I should’ve forced her. I should’ve INSISTED she go… I should’ve texted Jamie… I should’ve done SOMETHING. Maybe she’d still be alive. She would’ve had a fighting chance.

She struggled to breathe while walking out of the bathroom and back to her side of the bed. She gasped for breathe and groaned in pain. I remember the sounds all too well. She took some medicine from a small blackish-brown bottle that was to help with the pain, and she used the nebulizer… And then she started the music again, laid back down and tried to sleep.

I fell asleep too, only for 3 hours. We woke up again around 6 AM… almost 7. It’d be time to get up for school soon.

She woke up again and went to the bathroom, I woke up because of her struggling to breathe. She coughed and breathed loudly. She struggled to get to the bathroom and I sat up, just looking at her for a moment as she say down and gasped for breath. “Mama… Please, you really need to go to the ER. This can’t wait.” Finally, she agreed. “Yeah, ER… We’re going.” I nodded and I grabbed my phone.

7:00 AM

Nanny

I won’t be at school today,

mama is going to the ER. She can’t breathe.

Okay, tell me what hospital

And when you get there.

Be safe.

I got my stuff packed up. I put it in the car… I packed my PS4, everything I knew I’d need, including my backpack because mama was most likely not gonna be out if the hospital by Sunday. I knew this all too well, this wasn’t out first rodeo.

She still wasn’t off the toilet. She needed my help. She had placed a diaper wipe on the side of the tub and sat on it because she lost more breath trying to wipe. She needed me to hold it so it didn’t stick. Finally she was able to go back to the bed, and I got her the one piece rainbow jumper she liked. She asked for it.

8 AM and we hadn’t left yet. Nanny asked if we were there yet… we weren’t. She’d asked if she needed to come get us to take her to the ER. Mama said for her to not come unless she was coming to pick me up.

Finally after insisting, Mama agreed for Nanny to come get us. “She won’t make it in time, though.” Mama had said while she laid down to try and get more sleep. I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep. “Knowing her and how bad it is right now, I’m betting she’s going at least 20 over the speed limit.”

She was. She told me herself.

Nanny asked if we should call rescue, after she had asked if we made it safely. That was at 8:16 AM.

Should Gammy come? Gammy was mama’s mom. Jamie wasn’t off work. Mama thought of calling rescue too.

She thought of calling rescue too

I think she can drive

I thought she could drive

She couldn’t catch her breath to walk to the car. She doesn’t need to drive.

“I’m leaving now.” On Friday, April 8th and 8:48 AM. It took at least 45 minutes to get from Nanny’s house to Mama's. Maybe longer depending on traffic.

She got there in 48 minutes.

Mama’s asking where you are. Callahan. Hilliard.

9:36 AM

Nanny

Here

I see

She struggled to breathe more and more. I put Felippe in the room my brother- well… little sister now.. used when she used to live here. In hindsight, I think he knew.

She could barely walk but she needed to go to the bathroom. I offered to help her walk, but she said no. She took my help anyway. I went to go clean the litter box. Nanny called 911, explaining everything and relaying what mama struggled to say.

I was away and Nann said mama was calling me. I never went to answer her call so fast in my life. She needed help to wipe. She was embarrassed, she felt humiliated but I said it was okay. She couldn’t control it. I was fine with it. She sat on the side of the bath tub.

When the paramedics arrived, she asked if they had a shirt or something. They only had a sheet. I did find a shirt for her to put on so they could come in. She needed help to put it on.

I remember this too clearly.

She kept losing consciousness when I tried to help her put it on, and I shook her awake. She was dazed. She looked confused but panicked…

She said she was gonna die.

“I'm gonna die..” “No! You’re not! The ambulance will be here soon, you’re gonna be fine!” I said that so harshly, because I was convincing her and myself that everything was okay. She knew. I know she knew. And I can’t believe I didn’t say I love you in those last moments. I’m horrible for that. I’m the worst child for that. I never said it enough. And now I’m paying the price for it.

She prayed to Jesus to let her live, that she was going to stop smoking, she didn't want to die. She wasn't ready to die, she didn't wanna leave me behind.

She rested her forehead against my chest, she needed some sort of support to stay up. I called for help, I yelled that she had a shirt on, we were ready. But I don’t think they heard me.

She gasped and gasped, and that look in her eye… I still remember it and I can draw it perfectly from memory. She was scared. That was the look of fear, that was the look that she knew she was dying and she was afraid.

“I need air! I need to breathe, I CAN’T FUCKING BREATHE!” “What do you want me to do? Like… CPR?” “YES!” She said that as though that was the best idea she ever heard.

I’m so glad school taught us CPR, even if it wasn’t mouth to mouth… but I wish I didn’t need to use the knowledge.

I did the best I could. I breathed into her as much as possible so she could breathe all while begging for help.

Then they finally came in, maybe to see if we were ready. They went to us so quickly.

She was losing consciousness again.

“Ma’am? Ma’am, can you hear me?” She wasn’t responding and I was shaking her. “MAMA!”

My scream sounded so broken. That was the most broken I’ve heard my voice.

I looked up at the ceiling while she woke up, trying to stay calm and be strong for her… but the tears I couldn’t hold back. I didn’t want her to see me weak.

They told me they had it now, and had me leave the room. Nanny knew.

The police man came in and had us come outside, asking questions.

I heard them before he came in. “CPR starting at 10:30 AM.” No… it was 10:28 AM.

He came out after going inside after asking us some questions. He pulled my nanny aside to talk to her in private. I was to stay where I was. Then she came back..

She took me to the car, and sat me in the driver’s seat. Something was wrong because she refused to tell me until I sat down.

“She’s gone…”

No.. no she isn’t.

She isn’t. She can’t be.

“They tried all they could… She’s… She’s gone, honey.” “NO! No she isn’t! She can’t be…”

Was that how I reacted??? I think…

I was silent… for a moment. I didn’t hyperventilate and why? I think it was from shock. I cried. I did, I know did. I felt numb though… I didn’t feel much… and I'm still so conflicted.

10:55 AM

“I’m very sorry for your loss. She expired at 10:55 AM.”

They tried for 30 minutes. What was she telling them when I heard her talking to the paramedics? I wish I knew.

Phone calls were made, gammy was upset too… Sissy was crying… Aife was taken out of school early. Sissy came to the house with her husband while her kids were at school.

I got a 2nd degree sunburn that day, we were out there till maybe 2 in the afternoon.

We got lunch and I could barely eat it even though I was starving, I wanted to throw up if I ate. Felippe cried the whole way home.. to my home.. the place that was always my second home. His new home...

I got to see her body… and even after I stopped crying… it started again.

My neighbor Gage, he was like an older brother to me, had texted me while leaving asking about the cop car. I watched him pull out of the driveway but when I texted back.. he turned right back around and instantly came to the house. I texted Jamie about what happened… Jamie was mama's best friend…

He hugged me, and we talked… Everything hurt and it still hurts. And it still feels like a dream. Everytime I lay in bed on a Monday, it feels like a dream especially during the school year, before school ended. It felt like a dream, like it wasn’t real. I’d forget for a moment.

What hurts the most is every. Single. Sunday.

That’s hotdogs day, that’s also when I usually go home for school on Monday… Kane, my little cousin, knows that so well.

And every Sunday he says I need to go home, that I’m gonna be late to go home… that I’m going home today… That Felippe needs to go home. He doesn’t mean to. He doesn’t fully understand. Yeah, he’s 7 but realize he also has down syndrome so he’s a bit behind.

It hurts so much though… because I don’t know if he’s fully realized and understood that this IS home now… this IS Felippe’s home… he doesn’t understand… but.. I want to cry every time. Because.. I’m supposed to be going home today during the school year.

It’s been more than 2 months… and I still remember every detail. So vividly. And I’ll never forget those sounds. Her face… her cough, the way she was breathing… and I wanna keep the house.

I can’t. It’s too expensive, and doesn’t wanna pay for it anymore because it’s been a burden for 13 years.

But that’s my home.. my only home.. I grew up there. I wanna fix it up and move in when I’m 18. Most 18 year Olds don’t have their whole whole trailer… I don’t care… preserve it. Because I didn’t stop procrastinating for 5 minutes to preserve her voice… to make her an UTAU like I wanted. And she was more than happy to.

This entire story is based on very true events, and the times are accurate to each thing that happened based on texts previously. Words said here and relatively accurate to what was said that day. As are the texts.

Rest in Peace

Mama

December 1st, 1972 – April 8th, 2022

3 days and 3 years after Wowaka’s passing…

Always tell those your close to that you love them. Because you may regret it if you don’t. Don’t take things for granted, I did that too many times. And if someone seems like they need to go to the ER, make them go at all costs. It might save their life… I wish I had. Mama might’ve still been here.

#Halo; Mama #tw: family death #tw: death #tw: detailed information about death #tw: detail by detail explanation of events #tw: trauma #tw: shock #this is a coping mechanism. maybe I'll be able to feel better #tw: small mention of jesus

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biggest-gaudiest-patronuses · 3 years

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So I (finally!) bought a pair of really good noise cancelling headphones, and it has changed my life! It's the fanciest thing I've bought in years, so to recoup some of the cost, I’ve researched & written a little essay based on my experiences with extreme noise sensitivity.

Hypersensitivity to sound is something I’ve dealt with all of my life, but I only recently found out it's medically known a Hyperacusis. (Please note this is a separate condition from Misophonia.) If you consistently struggle to cope with noise, the info below could be helpful! I’m including a link to my ko-fi, and I will be answering questions in the notes.

(skip to the bottom to read fun facts about my tax return and/or street organs vendettas!)

DISCLAIMER: I am not a professional, this is based solely on my experiences as a patient, and on what I have read and been told by professionals. Please notify me if you have corrections or concerns about accuracy!

BACKGROUND: Sensitivity to sound is a common type of sensory issue. While anyone can experience such issues (most people, for example, might be bothered by loud music in a crowded restaurant), some people are more sensitive than others, to the point it becomes a quality-of-life aka a medical issue.

If you consistently struggle with environmental stimuli that other people aren’t bothered by (background noises, bright lights, certain textures and tastes, etc), to the point it causes daily discomfort or limits the environments you can be in, I recommend reading about Sensory Processing Disorder.

SPD and sound sensitivity are both super common in autistic folks (like me!), but allistic (non-autistic) people can experience them too. Weep, ye prisoners of mortal coil, for none are safe, nothing sacred, not in this thy most accursed tomb of human flesh!

Anyway.

SOUND SENSITIVITY or HYPERACUSIS: Noise issues are particularly difficult to navigate in a world that is increasingly...noisy. The relatively new phenomenon of constant overhead music in restaurants, grocery stores, shopping malls etc—all of this means that public spaces are increasingly inaccessible to people with auditory issues.*

As a kid, nothing quite triggered sensory overload/meltdowns for me like the constant exposure to noise I couldn’t control—the background chatter of other kids in the lunchroom, the constant noise in public spaces, being trapped in the car with the radio on.... I had so many fights with my siblings about the car radio, and who got to choose the music.**

But it’s not just loud sounds that are the problem. As an adult who lives alone and works from home***, I’m lucky enough to be able to avoid loud environments most of the time. This does wonders for my general levels of anxiety and discomfort. But even in a mostly controlled environment, I still experience problems. Because part of sound sensitivity is that even normal or quiet sounds can feel loud and intrusive. Here are some “normal” sounds that can cause me discomfort (ranging from annoyance to outright pain, depending on the day):

refrigerator/AC/ceiling lights humming

dishwasher/washing machine noises

ceiling fan making that damn ceiling fan noise

faint sounds of traffic

riding in a car

other people having a normal conversation in the background

someone talking to me in a perfectly normal inside voice

Unfortunately, even in a “controlled” environment, many triggering noises can’t be controlled. And many parts of life can’t be lived in a controlled environment. This presents...some incredibly freaking annoying problems. Luckily there are solutions!

Sorta.

There are sorta some solutions.

They are imperfect, but they help.

TREATMENT: And now I have something rather shame-faced to admit. In all the years of managing my symptoms, it never once occurred to me to see a hearing specialist for my issues with sound. I wasn’t even aware that treatment options exist, because none of my other doctors mentioned it. Instead, I’ve spent years finding my own coping mechanisms and tools, with help from therapists and psychiatrists, but without ever consulting an audiologist/ENT. It was only while researching this post that I found out that was even an option, holy shit.

So it turns out I am going to be making an appointment with my local ENT practice. shit.

Apparently treatment options include sound/acoustic therapy, systematic desensitization/exposure therapy, cognitive behavior therapy, sound machines, and other options that I had no idea even existed, goddammit.

MANAGEMENT: In the meantime, here are my current coping mechanisms. I’ve relied rather heavily on hearing protection, which is very useful when used in moderation. Unfortunately, it can cause its own problems: it’s important not to overuse hearing protection, because in the long-term this can increase your sensitivity. So again: a useful tool, but be careful not to overdo it.

With that in mind, here are some of the coping strategies I’ve used over the last decade to manage my symptoms. This is not a perfect system and you should contact your local ENT clinic for better, long-term solutions, but in the meantime here are some tips I use to just get myself through the damn day:

Regularly spending time in a quiet controlled environment, to allow my nervous system to decompress.

Wearing earplugs, (I use two different grade, depending on the level of noise prevention I need), and always carrying an extra pair in case I need them unexpectedly. I bought a 50 pack for $7 and put spares in all my bags and jacket pockets.

(I mostly use Mack’s Ultra Soft, but there are so many types and materials and brands, including foam, silicone, wax, custom moldable etc. Even if you have trouble wearing things in your ears, you might be able to find something comfortable.)

Similarly: hearing protection earmuffs, the kind used in gun ranges and on construction sites. I bought mine online for $10. they look like normal wireless headphones, so I've never gotten comments when wearing mine in public (other than “cool heaphones” bc i added skull glitter stickers).

Sometimes I wear the earmuffs on top of earplugs, when life is just too damn LOUD.

Listening to music w/ earbuds or headphones is a great way to balance out background noises, especially if you can find soothing playlists that help you concentrate. Also useful to put in just one earbud when you need to pay attention in class/at work.

Pro tip: if your hair is long enough you can wear wireless earbuds without anyone knowing.

White noise, rain noises, ocean noises etc can be helpful! Some people like whale songs although personally this activates my primal fear response

Active noise cancelling headphones: the reason I wrote this post to begin with—I finally bought a pair! As in, a really good pair! As in, a depressingly expensive pair with noise cancelling technology that actually WORKS, holy shit. I probably need to wear them a little less at home (bc overprotection causes problems in the longterm) but they have absolutely transformed my ability to go out in public and i never ever want to take these suckers off again please take a power screwdriver and nail these to my head, bury me in the sweet sweet shroud of silence. holy canoli and cream puffs I want to marry form a civil partnership with these headphones. Plus they have a bunch of features, like being able to control the level of noise cancellation, so I can hold a conversation or be aware of some ambient noise for safety reasons.

Oh, and also they play music I guess?

Sorry sorry I promise this post wasn’t supposed to be me shilling for Big Electronics. I’m just excited, I’m an excited flabby little ball of expired flubber. ANC headphones aren’t a perfect solution, and I still sometimes wear earplugs underneath, and I will always be uncomfortable some of the time, but for me it’s been a big step.

Unfortunately the cost of good quality ANC technology means this isn’t an option for everyone, and the (much cheaper) gunshot protection earmuffs I mentioned earlier still provide an impressive amount of protection and bang-for-your buck (maybe even an equal amount of protection, if you can find ones that fit well). But if noise consistently prevents you from enjoying public space and life in general, and you’ve already tried earmuffs & earplugs and find they don’t offer enough comfort/convenience/protection, and if you’re in a position to save up for a one time non-necessity purchase of $150+, noise cancelling headphones are an option to be aware of. (Please always check the return policy so you can try before you buy. I ended up buying and returning 2 pairs before finding what worked best for me. And please look for a retailer that offers an extended warranty. You want those motherforkers to last).

There are cheaper options available, including some under $50. The ones I tried didn't work as well as my hearing protection earmuffs, but some people report good experiences, so that is something to consider. it's always good to know your options! Passive noise canceling is another affordable alternative.

Medication: A final tool in my toolbox, which for me personally has helped as much as every other method combined. Like, a lot, it’s helped a lot. It turns out some anti-anxiety medications can also help sensory issues. There’s not much research on this, and I only discovered it firsthand when a medication my doctor prescribed for anxiety ended up significantly helping my sensory issues. I no longer need medication for anxiety, but my psychiatrist still prescribes that same medication off-label for my sensory stuff. Ask your psychiatrist to research your options (they will probably have to do some digging to find relevant research, but you deserve to know all your options, even the obscure ones). Fyi, the medication I use is in the benzodiazepines class, but there are other options for those concerned about dependency or side effects.

(I'm also told anti-anxiety supplements may be helpful, though I haven't tried this yet. If you're on prescription meds, always talk to your doctor about contraindications before taking anything over-the-counter.)

So there you have it, my main coping strategies for sound sensitivity! They are not a replacement for medical treatment (except that last one which is in fact...medical treatment), but I find them helpful and I hope some of you will too! I’ve struggled for a long time, and I’m very pleased to have reached the point where I can just do things in public. Eating out in loud restaurants? I can do that now, and even enjoy it, holy shit! I can comfortably travel in cars for hours at a time, and walk around shopping malls and grocery stores with overhead music, and, and —and just exist. It is so so freeing, to feel like maybe, after everything, you are actually allowed to just exist in a world that wasn’t really designed for you.

Again, be careful not to overuse hearing protection—the goal is to allow you to be less uncomfortable and to function better, but if you find you are becoming more sensitive to noise, it is time to dial it back a notch. Or maybe consider listening to music (at a reasonable volume) to block out background noise instead.

*(This also includes people with hearing loss and related issues, btw. While that’s not my area of knowledge, I would welcome it if any of my HoH followers want to share their experiences.)

**A sign of sensory issues that parents often miss is when a child complains about music being too loud—but has no problem listening to their own music at high volume. This is because music that is already familiar to the listener (and that the listener enjoys) is much easier for the brain to process, since it knows what pattern of sounds to expect. Loud music that they get to control can be soothing for people with sound issues, especially when it blocks out background noise and sensations. This is why repetitively playing the same songs can be a helpful form of stimming.

***(working on this blog, actually. since it’s my only source of income, my 2020 income tax return literally lists my occupation as ‘Tumblr Blogger.’ Oddly, my parent didn’t feel this achievement was worth including in the holiday family newsletter.)

bonus fun fact: Charles Babbage aka “father of the computer” may have been autistic and hypersensitive to sound. He definitely had a huge problem with public noise pollution, and spent his later year waging a war on street musicians (and organ grinders in particular).

(bc like, yeah. screw organ grinders.)

Sometimes when I’m out in public and the overhead music is particularly unbearable, I’ll take a moment to look up to the sky and scream out: “HE TRIED TO WARN US! THE FATHER OF COMPUTERS TRIED TO WARN US!!! we should have listened, sweet heaven we should have listened!”

except i don’t scream it, i say it very quietly under my breath

(i have issues with noise)

so yeah that is my short essay. and here is the ko-fi goal

k ciao i gotta go pick out glitter stickers for my headphones

#actuallyautistic #not a shitpost #holy shit how did i spend 3 hours writing this what even is my blog #this blog is supposed to be blue whale anxiety and uncomfortably sexy clown jokes #what am i doing #sensory processing disorder #sensory issues #mental health #actually autistic #NOTIFY ME OF ANY TYPOS #i proofread this 5 times my eyes weep an unceasing flood of blood and regret #adhd #actuallyadhd #autism #sensory problems

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illicitlimerence-writes · 2 years

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third try | m. schumacher

pairing: mick schumacher x reader word count: 1.8k words prompt: letter d: date. from this christmas alphabet prompt list. although it's technically not christmas, it takes place in december lmao. warnings: language, mick being the cutest person on earth, fluff. a/n: day four! i struggled so much trying to finish this, but i think i like it. hope you like it as well!

my masterlist/ christmas alphabet masterlist

(a mood)

mick sat at the cafeteria of the haas factory, he watched through the glass doors as you turned the corner and caught his eyes, you smiled and waved at him. you walked in but someone called your name, you stopped to talk to them, answering whatever questions they had for you.

"it's okay, you can do this. you can do it. just ask her. it'll be fi-" he whispered to himself as you said your goodbyes.

"hey, mick!" you smiled at him.

"he-he- hi (y/n)..." mick stumbled on his words as you sat in front of him.

"you okay?" you asked.

"ye-yeah, all good." he took a sip of his water bottle.

"you sure? your cheeks are really red," you said, leaning forward and placing the back of your hand against his cheek. which, suddenly felt warmer under your touch. you frowned.

"are you feeling sick?" you asked.

"n-no, i'm fine." he nodded, as if convincing himself instead of you.

"you could have a fever, maybe you should see a doctor," you said, your fingers playing with each other, tapping random beats on the table between you two.

"i'm okay. don't worry about me," he smiled, but it wasn't his usual wide grin, you couldn't see his teeth.

"alright, how did the sim go? it was your first time driving that track, right?" you asked, leaning against the back of your chest.

"yeah, it was. it went well, learned a lot about the track and hopefully, we can have a good last couple of races," there were only two races left of his first season in f1. he had mixed feelings about it, he had met so many incredible people, including you, but he also had struggled so much with the car, it was so below his level of talent.

"fingers crossed." you crossed your middle finger over your index, which made him smile. "so, christmas is coming up. do you have any plans?" you leaned forward, placing your elbows on the table and your chin on your fist. mick's heart picked up.

"go back home for christmas, i was thinking about going to new york for new year's," he said, and he saw the way your attention was solely focused on him, that thought made the air leave his lungs.

"that sounds amazing!" you laughed, "i bet new york is beautiful this time of the year," you said as you thought about all those christmas movies you watched growing up.

"you've never been?" he asked.

"nope, it's been on my bucket list for years. since i watched new york minute, with the olsen twins, you know?" you asked, and he nodded, he had a vague idea of the movie because of gina.

this is it, he thought. this is the perfect moment to ask her out, do it. do it now, before it's too lat-

"(y/n)! i need your help with something, it's urgent!" your assistant, lola, rushed in, running to you.

"what's going on?" you asked, getting up.

"jones deleted all our sim data, like, all of it." she explained and your eyes went wide.

"shit, let's go," you said and she ran out of the room. "it's been great talking to you, i'll see you later, bye!" you waved your hand, running to where you were needed.

perfect, mick thought. throwing his head back and groaning.

the 2021 f1 season was finally over. the championship title had been decided, and mick had managed to get his best finish in his rookie career. he ended the season with one point, crashes at turn 1 gave him the opportunity to make his way through the field, overtaking the car on p10 on the last lap.

the entire garage had erupted in cheers. mechanics and engineers laughing and hugging each other as what had been one of their most brutal seasons finally ended. it seemed that haas had won the championship, as their celebrations matched and were even bigger than the winning team.

you ran out of the garage before anyone else, joining the teams for the podium finishers, as you waited for mick. you squeezed your way in as they weighed mick, watching as the other drivers approached him and bumped fists with him. everyone was happy about his achievement, it didn't matter that it was one point, he showed was he was capable of with a car that wasn't up to his standards.

the second he was left alone, he removed his helmet, letting you see his bright eyes and the widest smile you'd ever seen. you ran to him, throwing your arms around his neck, it took him a second to realize it was you who was clinging to him like a koala.

"what did you do?!" you asked, shaking your head in disbelief.

"i don't know!" he laughed, and you pulled him closer.

"p10...p-fucking-ten!" you yelled, grabbing his face in your hands as you spoke, the brightest beam on both of your faces.

"(y/n), i want to tell you that i-"

you felt something on your waist, a fleeting touch that disappeared when the rest of the team found their hero. you were being shoved to the side during all the euphoric celebrations. you let them all have their moment with mick, biting your lip as you replayed the past few seconds in your head.

bad timing, mick thought as he watched you embrace lola. he thought he saw tears in your eyes, but maybe that was just the reflection of the lights.

a week before christmas, all haas workers were summoned to the factory for a christmas party. you picked your favorite dress, doing your hair and makeup in a way that made you feel confident as you watched yourself in the mirror, all dolled up.

you chuckled as you watched the factory completely decorated in extravagant lights, ribbons and other flashy ornaments.

you said 'hi' to people as you walked in, complimenting and congratulating all your friends and co-workers for all the hard work on an extremely challenging season.

the sound of someone clinking a champagne glass caught everyone's attention, guenther stood in the middle of the room with mick standing beside him, mick wore a white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. you found yourself smiling as your eyes met his, you'd missed being around him, it didn't matter that it had only been a few weeks.

you tried to focus on the words guenther said, but once you came to the realization that mick was staring intently at you. you felt goosebumps on your skin, not from the air conditioning, but from the way he kept gazing at you. there was an unexplicable connection between you two, you didn't want to be the first to look away, but you were startled by the clapping from the people around you.

the lights dimmed as the music got louder, people rushed to the makeshift dance floor in the center of the room. you were dragged by lola and other friends, you laughed as everyone let loose and began dancing to the rhythm of the music.

"i'm going to the restroom!" you yelled over the loud music, but your friends couldn't understand you, so you just pointed to the exit.

the booming of the music muffled as you walked away, you hummed the lyrics of the song as you fixed your lipstick in the mirror after doing your business and washing your hands. you walked out of the bathroom, crashing into a body passing by.

"mick! i'm so sorry,"

"finally!" you both said at the same time. "(y/n)... i... i've been looking for you all night," mick said as he still held onto your forearms, where he'd grabbed you to prevent you from falling.

"what's up?" you asked.

"i've been- all year i... shit, hold on," he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

"hey, it's okay, it's me. you can trust me," you smiled encouragingly at him. "you can talk to me,"

"i, uh, wanted to know if you had plans for new year's?" he asked, his hands falling to his sides. you noticed how he was fiddling with his fingers.

"umm... i don't know, i usually spend it with my parents but they're going on a cruise, so," you shrugged your shoulder. "why?"

this is it. don't screw this up.

"i... i was wondering if you'd like to come to new york with me." he was surprised his voice didn't come out shaky.

"new york?" you repeated, he nodded. "i don't know, i'm-"

"no pressure! obviously, i know it's just a few days away but- you looked so excited a few days ago when i said that i was going, so i just thought... you know..." he said, and you didn't know why, but you felt something in your heart aching. why?

you stayed quiet for a few seconds, you honestly didn't know what to say as so many questions and thoughts ran through your mind.

"fuck- wait, i- let me rephrase that. if you don't have something else to do, i'd like to spend new year's with you. i really don't mind what we do or where we are, but i've liked you for a very, very long time," he stopped his rant to take a deep breath, meanwhile, you felt the hairs on your arms and neck raising. "fuck, i like you so much that it doesn't feel real anymore-"

"like a date?" you cut him off, so many things had been said in such a short time that you could only focus on one at a time.

"what?" mick asked, he was afraid that he'd completely blown his chances with you.

"new york... new year's... you and me, is it a date?" you said.

"it can be whatever you want it to, i-" he sputtered, but you shook your head.

"mick schumacher," his eyes widened as your tone changed to a more serious one. "would you like to go on a date with me?" he could've sworn his heart stopped as he heard you.

"i- i was supposed to say that," he thought out loud. you looked down at his hands, grabbing one of his with your own.

"is that all you have to say?" you raised an eyebrow, you couldn't help but smile at his nervous demeanor.

"yes- i- i mean, no. i-" you chuckled as he stumbled on his words, he squeezed your hand in response. "i do, i do want to go out with you. fuck, it feels great saying that, i feel so relieved, i-" he continued to voice his thoughts as you watched him. you leaned forward, tilting your head up and kissing his cheek, which made him shut up.

"text me the details," you said, walking away from him. as you reached the door to where the party was, you took one look over your shoulder, seeing mick standing right where you'd left him. his eyes were wide, and his fingers were touching the cheek you'd kissed. you bit your lip, feeling warmth spreading through your body.

with your head, you pointed to the room behind you, asking him to join you. he didn't waste a second to run to you, even dared to link your fingers together as you walked in.

he couldn't wait for new york.

568 notes · View notes

cdelphiki · 3 years

Text

Kid Jason and Bruce bonding over cars, 5k words of fluff, no archive warnings apply.

“Good morning, lad,” Alfred said, one Saturday morning just as Jason stepped into the kitchen, “What would you like for breakfast?”

He’d skipped ‘family’ breakfast in favor of sleeping in, which Alfred had said multiple times was perfectly acceptable. He was 12, after all, and needed his sleep.

With a smile, Jason started crossing the kitchen, over to the pantry, as he said, “Hi, Alfred. I was just gonna get some cereal.”

“Then help yourself, lad.”

Despite saying ‘help yourself,’ Alfred both got him a bowl and the milk out, but otherwise let Jason pour himself the cereal. He then traded Jason the milk for a spoon before going back to whatever he was preparing before. Kinda looked like bread. He was kneading dough, whatever it was.

“What’s Bruce doing in the garage?” Jason asked, after he’d watched Alfred for a few minutes and got through half his bowl of cereal.

Alfred rolled the dough up into a loaf shape and dropped it down into a glass pan as he said, “Why don’t you go see for yourself?”

He didn’t even look over, but Alfred must have heard Jason frown, or something, because he then asked, “You like cars, don’t you?”

“Well yeah,” Jason stammered. He did like cars, but why did that mean he had to go ask Bruce what he was doing? “I just don’t want to bother him.”

Bruce was obviously doing work or something. He had spent almost the whole week working, and then had to take Jason out yesterday, so he probably had stuff he had to get done around the house, right? With… the tools.

“You won’t be bothering him,” Alfred said, like he thought it was impossible for Jason to bother Bruce, “I’m sure he will be more than happy to tell you about the work he’s doing on his cars.”

So he was doing work then.

Just… on his cars…

Jason looked down into his bowl and scooped out his last bite of cereal, contemplating whether he would go bother Bruce.

On the one hand, Bruce had said he would show Jason his cars if he just asked.

But on the other… he didn’t know. Things were good with Bruce so far, he was kind of scared if he bothered Bruce too much, he’d ruin it.

But as soon as Jason set his bowl back down, after finishing off the milk, Alfred walked over and took it, saying, “Go on, lad.”

And, well. Jason was supposed to listen to Alfred, right?

Back at the door to the garage, though, Jason hesitated. Bruce was back rummaging through the toolbox, but his Volkswagen was moved out to the middle of the floor, out of its normal parking spot in the line of cars away from the doors.

He didn’t turn around, though, when Jason hesitatingly pulled the door open and stepped down onto the the little set of three stairs that led to the garage floor. It wasn’t until he found whatever it was, it looked like a funnel from where Jason was standing, did he turn around and notice Jason.

“Hey, bud,” he said, as he pulled a little earbud out of his ear, “what’s up?”

“Alfred said I should come see what you were doing.”

Bruce nodded and put his little earbud in a case on the work bench as he said, “Oh, well I’m changing the oil on the cars today.”

“All of them?” Jason surveyed the garage and couldn’t help but think doing something like that would take ages.

“Most of them,” Bruce nearly hummed, as he opened the driver’s door to the Volkswagen and leaned inside. A second later, the hood popped.

Jason hopped down the last two steps and walked over toward one of the lines of cars, the one with the red lambo he’d been drooling over every time he was in the garage. He hadn’t had a chance to actually look at it, though. Because every time he was in the garage, Bruce was ushering him someplace or another.

Bruce peeked over at him, but didn’t say anything when Jason put his hand down on the hood of the car. It was gorgeous. Shiny and flawless. Not a single scratch on it anywhere Jason could see.

It was obvious it was taken care of, but Jason would have never thought Bruce did the work.

“Don’t you have people for that?” Jason asked, as Bruce opened the hood on the Volkswagen and propped it open like he’d done it a million times.

With seventy-four cars, he probably had done it a million times.

“Have you seen people around here I’m not aware of?” Bruce asked, a hint of amusement in his voice as he checked the car’s oil, using the little stick thing. Jason had never actually seen someone do that before. Mostly because his parents hadn’t owned a car. He’d seen people do that on TV and stuff, though.

“No one’s mechanic lives with them,” Jason scoffed, turning fully from the Lamborghini to watch Bruce. Although Jason wouldn’t put it past a rich weirdo with a million cars to have a live-in mechanic.

Bruce huffed, what Jason assumed was a laugh, but he said, “I’m my own mechanic,” as he started messing with something in the car. Jason was kinda curious what.

“Why?”

“Is it so wrong I have a hobby?” Bruce asked, looking up at Jason finally.

“Yeah, it’s weird,” Jason answered with a shrug, “You’re rich.” Rich people had hobbies there were like, horses. Horses and… well. Jason didn’t actually know, outside of illegal stuff, obviously.

“I like working on my own cars,” Bruce said, as he walked back over to his tool box and slipped on some gloves, “At least, on the cars I can work on. Some of these are just easier to bring to the dealership.”

“Really? Why?” Jason asked, looking back around at all the cars. Bruce actually had about ten cars, mostly sport cars, “Which ones?”

“It’s all the computer systems in the newer cars, I don’t feel like owning the equipment for every single car, especially if I don’t drive that car much, anyway. And cars like the Tesla you have to get parts for on the blackmarket, and it’s far more trouble than it’s worth.”

With a slight grin, Jason asked, “So you’re saying you don’t buy stuff from the black market,” as he pointed to himself when Bruce looked over. Regardless of his intentions, Bruce had exchanged money for him. Which was technically buying a child on the blackmarket.

Bruce just rolled his eyes, though, and said, “I try not to.”

“Why do you own like ten cars?” Jason asked, as he started inspecting the other cars in the line he was at. Next to the Lamborghini was a sleek black sports car and Jason was pretty sure was a corvette. He really needed to study the symbols on cars more. It was a little ‘V’ on the hood, so he was like, 98% sure.

“There’s only nine here and one is Alfred’s,” Bruce said, like that made a difference, “and I like cars. They’re fun to collect.”

“Do you actually drive them all? You always pick the Tesla when we go anywhere.” Or that one time the Volkswagen.

Although maybe Bruce brought the sports cars out on his dates or whatever he did at night. Jason had never watched him leave or anything.

Bruce leaned back over the Volkswagen’s engine compartment as he said, “I try to drive each one at least once a month, even if it’s just around the block.”

“Oh,” he said, shoving his hands into his hoody pocket. He was wearing his Wayne Enterprises one, since he’d sweated all over the Batman one.

Maybe Bruce was right and he needed a summer hoody or something, because it was hot in the garage, too. Since the door was open to the outside and all…

Jason walked over to the open garage door and leaned back against the threshold between inside and outside and asked, “How often do you do this?” as he motioned at everything inside the garage.

“Every six months,” Bruce said, as he wiped the sweat off his forehead with his t-shirt sleeve. Then he stood up and looked straight as Jason as he asked, “Do you want to help?”

“What?” Help?

Bruce would actually let Jason help?

“Come here,” Bruce motioned with his head for Jason to come over, “I’ll show you what I’m doing.”

Jason pushed off the wall and took an aborted step forward as he asked, “Really?” Couldn’t he like, fuck up the car horribly??

Why would Bruce want him to help?

“Of course, this is a good skill to know. One day you’ll have a car of your own to take care of.”

“I will?” Jason asked, a little dazed as he did cross the garage to where Bruce was working.

Not many people owned cars, where he was from. He’d never actually dreamed that one day he’d own a car.

But maybe he should have. Because… if he got a real job, like doctor or lawyer or something, then he’d have enough money to buy one.

And if he did that, he’d probably need one to get to work and stuff.

“Of course,” Bruce said, like he hadn’t even thought the opposite. Once Jason had fully approached the car, and inched up to the side of the engine compartment, across from Bruce, he said, “Okay, tell me what all you know about cars.”

“Uh,” Jason stammered. He didn’t know much about cars, in the grand scheme of things. He’d only recently been able to research them! “Well. I know that’s the engine,” he continued, pointing to where the engine was, hiding under a cover, “And it has, uh, cylinders and pistons…”

He trailed off, but when he looked back up at Bruce, Bruce was smiling brightly, like Jason had said the right thing, so he tried to return the smile.

“Great, you already know more than most drivers,” Bruce said, as he walked back over to his workbench. He grabbed a pair of gloves and held them out for Jason as he said, “Engines have oil in them we need to change, to make sure it’s staying clean. Dirty oil damages the engine, which can cause some serious problems. Engines also burn off oil, so changing it ensures we’re keeping enough in there for the engine to work properly.”

Jason listened attentively as he rolled his sleeves up and pulled the gloves on. Bruce went to on explain how they were going to get the old oil out, replace it, and change the oil filter. He’d known kind of vaguely the basics of all that, but he’d never heard it be explained in detail.

Bruce walked him through everything, and even let Jason do some of the work. Like pull out the old oil filter and insert the oil extractor down into the car. Bruce took a step back once he showed Jason what to do, and even let Jason extract all the oil. By himself.

It was actually super easy. No wonder Bruce did his own oil changes.

While Jason was watching the oil slowly drain from the engine and into the extractor, Bruce went and got two huge bottles of oil off the shelf, which was stocked with, like, twenty bottles of the stuff.

“That much?” It looked like he had two gallons of oil, or more. Probably more. The bottles were bigger than milk jugs.

“Yes,” Bruce said, as he set the two bottles on the ground next to the extractor, “This car needs almost six quarts.”

Jason had no idea how much that was, because who measured shit in quarts?? But he nodded and watched from the side of the car as Bruce took the extractor out and slipped the funnel in, then poured the entirety of one of the bottles in.

It wasn’t until he started pouring in the second bottle did Bruce say, “Okay, I need you to pull the dip stick out and check the level.”

Jason bounced back around to the front of the car, so he could reach the dip stick. Bruce stepped to the side, further out of the way, but couldn’t go too far since he was still holding the bottle over the funnel, but it was fine. Jason could reach it just fine.

“Pull it out and wipe it off,” Bruce explained, when Jason located the dip stick, “then dip it back in. That will give you an accurate reading.”

Nodding, Jason grabbed the rag Bruce had set next to the dip stick and did exactly as told. Once he had the ‘accurate’ reading he held it up into the sun and squinted at it, trying to figure out if he was supposed to be able to tell if it was low. “Uh, it’s below the bottom dot.”

“That means we don’t have enough in there. You want the oil between the two dots.”

“Ah.” Jason nodded, and watched as Bruce poured more into the engine, a little at a time.

Each time he had Jason check the levels again, until the line was almost all the way to the top dot. Once it was, Bruce nodded contentedly and said, “That’s good enough,” and put the bottle of oil back down on the ground, “Now we just have to put the new filter in and we’re done.”

Doing that was a piece of cake. It was basically just the reverse as removing it. Then Bruce had Jason put the engine cover on by himself and they were done.

Just like that.

“Great job,” Bruce said, as he removed the stick holding the hood open, then motioned for Jason to step back so he could drop it shut. Jason jumped when the hood slammed closed, but then smiled when Bruce added, “You’re a pro already.”

“This is some people’s job,” Jason said, as he stepped back into the sunlight, shining in through the open garage door behind him, where he could get a good look at all of Bruce’s cars.

“It sure is,” Bruce said, “Mechanics is a very good field to go into. We’ll always have a need for mechanics.”

“Unless all the rich assholes start doing it themselves,” Jason said, walking along the edge of the driveway, toward the other row of cars on the other side of the garage.

Bruce huffed as he peeled his gloves off and tossed them over at the work bench. “If I crashed one of these,” he said, walking back to the Volkswagen with the key in his hand, “or the engine failed or something drastic, I’d let a mechanic fix it. I just do the routine, easy things.”

“Oh.” Jason supposed that made sense. It probably wasn’t fun if it was super tedious or whatever.

While Bruce started up the Volkswagen and backed it up into its spot, in the row of cars across the way from Jason, he wandered down the new row of vehicles.

All of the cars Bruce or Alfred drove the most were closer to the door to the Manor, so that’s where the Tesla and Bentley were. On this side was some cars Jason didn’t even recognize. He’d need to do a lot of research on fancy-ass sports cars to figure them out, too.

That was, until he stopped on the last car in the row and recognized the SRT logo on the side of the grille.

“No way,” he whispered to himself, as he circled the car.

There was no way it was what he thought it was.

He’d just seen a documentary… or four… about this car three days ago. It was an expensive car, sure, but not like million dollars expensive. It wasn’t even 100k, if he remembered right. He hadn’t been expecting Bruce to have one.

Then again, Bruce owned a Volkswagen. And this was an awesome car.

“You like that one?” Bruce asked, from across the garage.

“Is this a Hellcat?” Jason asked, before he cupped his hands around his eyes so he could try to peek inside. Sadly the tinted windows were too dark, though, so he stood back up and looked over at Bruce.

And Bruce looked… delighted. That was the only way Jason could describe it. He looked delighted.

“It sure is.”

“Dude,” Jason exclaimed, excitement bubbling up in him so quickly he felt like he would burst, “No way! What year is it? Does it really have a red key? How fast does it go? Why don’t you drive this one everywhere!”

Bruce grinned probably the most genuine grin Jason had ever seen but he couldn’t even though about it, because holy shit. He was right!!!

This was like, one of his favorite cars ever.

He’d watched four different documentaries, all on youtube, all because of the red key and how the regular black key governed the engine but the red key unlocked over seven hundred horse power.

And besides being so fucking cool that a car could go so fast, it was such a funny image, picturing seven hundred horses pulling a car.

Bruce walked over to the key lock box, up near the door to the manor, and put his Volkswagen key away. Before he shut it, though, he pulled out a bright red key and Jason just about lost it.

“Oh my God, that’s so cool.”

“Do you want to go for a ride?” Bruce asked, holding the key up, but not yet crossing the garage.

“Are you serious?” Jason asked. Bruce unlocked the doors in answer, so Jason exclaimed, “Yes!” and quickly rounded to the passenger side to open the door and look inside.

The first thing that hit him was the new car smell.

Such a wonderful, beautiful smell. Probably one of his favorites.

“This is so cool,” he whispered, in hushed awe as he slipped into the passenger seat.

There was a backseat, but there was almost no windows back there, and barely any space, and he wanted to see. Not be trapped and blind to everything happening. So Jason buckled himself into the passenger seat and just hoped Bruce wouldn’t make him move.

But Bruce just walked around to the driver door, smiling softly as he slid in and buckled himself in. “Feeling good?” he asked, as he dropped the key into the cup holder.

Good????

Jason was fucking ecstatic.

“Are you gonna go fast?”

In answer, Bruce pressed down on the brake and pressed the start button, then revved the engine loudly.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Jason said under his breath, trying not to grin too wide when Bruce put the car in drive and slowly pulled out of the parking spot.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” Bruce said. Jason didn’t even have enough time to agree, though, before Bruce lined the car up with the garage door and then gunned it.

Mostly because Jason was too busy laughing, watching the trees and bushes that lined the driveway speed by.

He only had to slow down a little for the gate, because somehow he told it to start opening before they got anywhere near it.

“You’re gonna get pulled over,” Jason said, through his laughter as Bruce hit 60 MPH out on the road outside the estate. On a road with a speed limit of 20.

“Probably,” Bruce agreed, obviously not caring one bit as he shifted gears and started going faster.

The car only his 70, though, before he slowed down to come to a stop sign at the end of their long, semi-private road.

“Okay, we have a couple options here,” Bruce said, looking over at Jason, “There’s a high school with a large parking lot we can play in, or there’s an industrial area with a network of roads that are deserted on Saturdays. Which do you think sounds better?”

Jason fidgeted in his chair, but asked, “Which one can you go faster on?”

“The industrial complex,” Bruce said, immediately turning the car to the left and zipping off again.

Bruce did keep the speed down, though, as they drove through all the little neighborhoods. Which was probably good, because Jason saw a few kids playing in their yards, and hitting a kid would probably be super bad.

But it only took a couple minutes before they were suddenly staring at a wide open straight road.

A huge wide open straight road, with four lanes running in either direction.

Obviously it was meant for tons and tons of traffic, but true to Bruce’s word, it was completely deserted.

“This was built up to be a large industry area,” Bruce explained, as he pulled onto the road and came to a stop right in the middle of it, “and there ended up being only two companies to move here. It’s one of my favorite places to play with a car.”

“It looks like a race track,” Jason observed, leaning forward in his seat so he could see over the dash, at the brake marks on the street right in front of them.

“It’s used as one. Ready?”

Quickly, Jason sat back in his seat again and nodded enthusiastically.

He was so ready.

Bruce smiled and put one hand on the wheel, the other on the clutch, then floored it.

Jason it thrown back into the seat hard, they accelerated so fast.

And all Jason could do was laugh.

Bruce treated the road like it’s a race track, circling it several times, making the car slide sometimes in his turns, the tires squealing as he did, every single time making Jason laugh harder.

It was the coolest fucking thing Jason had ever done.

They drove for nearly half an hour, Bruce driving around some of the smaller roads around the big huge buildings, and even doing a donut in the middle of a parking lot. Jason just knew that had to be terrible for the tires, but it was so cool to do.

So, so cool.

But eventually, Bruce did turn back to the manor, and by then, Jason’s stomach and cheeks hurt from laughing so much.

“You like this car, huh?” Bruce said, once they were going slow again, back through the neighborhoods with the kids.

“This is like, my dream car, dude,” Jason said, sitting back up to look at all the buttons on the dash. He hadn’t paid much attention to any of them. “Or, well, one of them.”

He had technically just learned about it a few days before, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t instantly become a dream car.

Bruce held a hand out, motioning at the radio as if saying ‘go ahead, mess with it,’ so Jason did.

He pressed all the buttons.

“Why is a Hellcat one of your dream cars?” Bruce asked, after Jason had figured out how to work the radio and was flipping through the seventy-billion satellite channels.

“I watched a bunch of youtube videos about these the other day,” he said, “I thought they were so cool with the red key. And badass looking too. I didn’t know you had one.”

“What are your other dream cars?” Bruce asked, as he grabbed the red key from the cup holder and held it out for Jason to take.

Happily, Jason took it and started inspecting it, looking at all the buttons in it, before he found a little switch that released the actual key from inside.

Although, obviously the car didn’t need the key. It needed the chip inside the key, that told the computer it was present.

“There’s a lot,” Jason eventually said, as he kept playing with the key. He couldn’t really think of car names, though. “I’ve seen a lot of really cool cars. I just never got to research them until, ya know. You gave me a laptop and stuff.”

“Right,” Bruce said, slowly, “What have you been researching on your laptop?”

“I saw an episode of some show about Roush Mustangs,” Jason said, as he dropped the key back into the cupholder and pulled his legs up on the seat, to sit criss crossed, “those look cool. Although your lambo is way cooler. Your Tesla is awesome, too. I always wanted to see a Tesla in person, then you had one.”

“The Tesla is my favorite commuter car,” Bruce said, as he shifted gears and sped up, now they were back on the semi-private road that led to the manor, “but almost all my other cars are more fun to drive.”

Jason nodded. He could see that, since the Tesla literally drove itself. “This one looks so fun to drive.”

“Tell you what,” Bruce said, once he reached the gate to the manor. This time, he had to come to a complete stop and type in his code and do the eye thing, “If you’re still here when you’re 15, I’ll tech you to drive on this car.”

“What?” Jason said, a little stunned. Because, “really??” He hadn’t even… thought that far ahead.

Not like that, at least. He’d only thought about getting through living with Bruce until he was 18, so he could move out and go to college.

But obviously if he was going to make it to 18, that would mean being here when he was 15 or 16, and…. well. That was when kids were supposed to learn to drive.

Why would he have ever thought Bruce would do that, though?? Teach him to drive??

That was what parents were supposed to do for their kids, and Jason was just a foster kid Bruce got stuck with, because Gordon made Bruce take him.

But, but, but… Bruce said he cared about him… so…

“With the red key?” Jason eventually asked, as Bruce pulled the car into the garage, and started slowly backing it up into its spot.

He paused, however, to give Jason a flat look as he said, “No.” He couldn’t hold the face, though, because he started laughing and added, “No way, with the regular key.”

“Aw.”

Although he supposed 500 horsepower was nothing to sneeze at.

“But,” Bruce said, “I might let you test out the red key, once you prove you’re a good driver.”

“Really?” Jason asked, sitting up straighter in his seat, trying to gauge Bruce’s sincerity.

He didn’t look like he was lying, so Jason cheered, “All right! I can’t wait to be 15.”

“Why don’t you focus on turning 13, first,” Bruce said, cutting the car off.

“Fine,” Jason whined, collapsing back into his seat dramatically. He righted himself quickly, though, to unfasten his seatbelt and hop out. “That was so cool, though.”

Bruce got out of the car himself, and just watched with a smile as Jason bounced up to the front of the car, to look at it and all the bugs they picked up.

Poor bugs, they didn’t stand a chance.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

Jason whirled around, a second later, when Alfred cleared his throat from the manor door.

“If you gentlemen are done, lunch has been waiting for you for quite a while. Do come eat it before it gets any colder.”

“Sorry, Alfred,” Jason said, at the same time Bruce said, “Sure thing, Alf.”

Alfred quickly retreated, so Jason turned to Bruce and asked, “Is he mad at us?”

“Nah.” Bruce shut his door and started walking to the manor door, but stopped when Jason didn’t start moving in step. “He’s not mad, Jason. That’s the face he makes when he’s very happy and doesn’t know how to show it.”

“Oh.” He wasn’t quite sure why Alfred would be ‘very happy,’ but Jason wouldn’t complain about that.

Bruce took a step forward, so this time Jason followed along, and stopped on the steps as Bruce put the key back in the box.

“You’re really going to teach me how to drive on that?” he asked, pointing back at the Hellcat. He kind of had a hard time believing it.

“Yes, I promise,” Bruce said, smiling when Jason shot him a grin.

“All right!” Jason cheered, grinning so wide his face started hurting again. “No take backs, okay?” he said, holding his fist out toward Bruce, “Fist bump.”

Now it was Bruce’s turn to be startled, apparently, because he looked at Jason’s fist like he had no idea what to do as he said, “What?”

“You’re hopeless,” Jason groaned, slouching dramatically before he straightened up and reached for one of Bruce’s hands. “Look, it’s easy.”

Bruce lifted his hand cautiously, and let Jason forced his fingers to form a fist as he said, “Make a fist. There. Okay, now pound it.” Jason make his own fist again and bumped it against Bruce’s hand, grinning wide again. “There. No take backs, we fist bumped.”

“Uh, yes,” Bruce said, like he couldn’t figure out what to fucking say. His smile grew wide, though, and then morphed into something fonder. “I swear it, no take backs.”

Jason fidgeted, under Bruce’s stare, so he quickly pushed open the door as he said, “Come on. Alfred said lunch is getting cold.”

He didn’t want to think about whatever Bruce was thinking.

They’d just had a freaking awesome time, Jason was not about to ruin it. No sir.

So he skipped on ahead, to the kitchen where Alfred had a couple paninis sitting on the counter, and just focused on the fact that Bruce was going to teach him to drive.

In the Hellcat.

All because Jason liked the car.

How fucking awesome was that????

This is chapter 46 of Reclaiming Innocence, slightly edited to read as a one-shot. Link to story can be found on my masterlist.

#Jason Todd #Robin #Baby Jason #Bruce Wayne #Batman #Batfam #Red HOod #This is a modified chapter from a longfic #i modified it to make it read more like a one shot #and also to make it ' no archive warnings apply'#fic is called Reclaiming Innocence on Ao3 by MurtaghMorzanson (me)#c writes

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dreamwritesimagines · 3 years

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Twisted 26 - Blood On My Name [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤❤ Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, drinking, smoking, guns.

Word Count: 3000

Summary: No one can run away forever.

There were some days when you just knew it wouldn’t be easy for you, and today was one of them, that was for sure. It was as if after seeing how Spencer had managed to charm your family the other night and how everything was going well in your relationship, the universe had decided to throw in some difficulties to make it interesting.

For starters, you had forgotten to buy coffee the day before so you couldn’t even have your much needed caffeine. After managing to get rid of the sleepiness with a very cold shower and getting ready, you left your apartment to get to your car, and that was when the second problem hit.

It wouldn’t start no matter how much you tried, so you had to take a taxi to your office.

And as if all that wasn’t enough, Spencer had decided to call you with some bad news as well.

“You can’t be serious,” you whined, pressing the phone to your ear as you paced in your office, “Spencer, please tell me you’re not leaving me alone at a party I didn’t even want to go to in the first place!”

“Trust me, I don’t want to.”

“You have a case,” you felt the need to repeat, “Today of all days.”

“We’re flying there in ten.”

You heaved a sigh and plopped down to the couch, nibbling your lip.

“I’m really sorry,” he said softly, “I swear I’d be there if I could.”

You sook your head, “No, don’t be sorry,” you murmured, “I get that. It’s your job. Besides, it’s probably a life or death situation if they called you guys there.”

He hummed in agreement, “Probably,” he said “But are you going to be alright?”

“I mean I’ll probably drink a lot,” you tried to joke, “And miss you for the whole night.”

“I’ll miss you too,” he confessed, “They’re sending some agents to make sure the copycat doesn’t try anything at that party if they even show up, but… Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

“When am I not careful?”

He scoffed a laugh, “Do you want a list? Because I think it’d be a long list.”

“I’m always careful!” you protested, “Also, given our occupations it’s kind of ironic to hear this from you, I’ll have you know.”

You could almost hear his smile, “Just promise me.”

“I’ll be very careful,” you said, “Cross my heart. Besides, it’s Nolan’s company, professor. No one can walk there with any weapon, it’s a security company remember? Even I am leaving my knife at home.”

“Just don’t go anywhere alone, be in the crowd for the whole time—”

“Make sure to stay where security cameras can see me, I know.” You finished his sentence for him, “It’s not my first rodeo. Relax boyfriend, it’s just one boring party. What could possibly go wrong?”

“Don’t say that,” he warned you, “Bad things happen when people say that.”

“I didn’t take you for a superstitious type, professor.”

“I’m not,” he said, “I just don’t want to take any chances. It’s already bad enough that I won’t be there.”

“You’re telling me,” you said, “I was hoping we could hook up somewhere in there, it’s a huge building.”

You heard his chuckle, “You’re incorrigible.”

“Well it’s always Mina and Kenzie who have fun in these things, for once I want to have fun too!” you defended yourself, “Besides, don’t pretend like you don’t like it.”

“Hey, I said nothing of the sort.”

“Reid, come on.” You heard Luke’s voice and Spencer sighed.

“I should go,” he told you, “I love you.”

A smile warmed your face, “I love you too,” you said, “Go save some lives.”

You hung up, then ran a hand over your face, slumping on the couch.

“Y/N?” your assistant knocked on the glass door of your office before peeking her head in, “Hi, are you busy?”

“Not really,” you sat up straighter, “What’s up?”

“You wanted me to remind you when it’s time for lunch,” she said, “Also I sent your dress for tonight to your place, the front desk will get it.”

“Thanks,” you checked the time and stood up to walk to your desk, “Damn it, I’m going to be late.”

“I also called the mechanics, but they said it would take two days for it to be fixed.”

“Today just gets better and better,” you muttered and she tilted her head,

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Hm?” you looked up, “Yeah, sorry. I’m fine, it’s just one of those days. Since the morning everything is going bad, and I was hoping my boyfriend would be with me at this party, but he had something to do so…”

“Maybe he can change his mind?” she suggested, “See, I had this boyfriend once, and he said he wouldn’t show up to my birthday party because we had this huge fight, but then he showed up anyway.”

“Oh it’s not like that,” you shook your head, “There’s no fight, he’s just not gonna be in the city tonight.”

She scrunched up her nose, “That sucks.”

You scoffed a laugh and grabbed your coat and your purse, “It’s fine. Where are we on the Riley wedding flower arrangement by the way?”

“All confirmed, she says she loved it,” she said and you smiled.

“Thanks,” you said as you walked to the elevator with her following you, “I’ll be back in an hour, okay? Have a nice lunch.”

***

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Lincoln said as you sipped your rosé, looking around the restaurant you two were having lunch in, “How did you even break down your car?”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“When was the last time you took it to a mechanic to get it checked out?”

“When I bought it?” you said and he let out a chuckle.

“So you have no car for tonight?”

You pulled your brows together, “Tonight? How did you-?”

“You know we run in the same social circle right?” he said, “My dad’s company also does business with Nolan, of course I’m invited. That being said, I wasn’t sure if I would show up, but since here you are, begging me to help you—“

“I’m just eating my food here.”

“I can drive you there,” he finished his sentence as if you didn’t interrupt him and you tilted your head.

“I can just take a cab,” you said, “Or mom could send a car, it’s fine. You don’t have to.”

“Consider it my thanks for your unrequited advices on my relationship.”

“Oh you need more advice?” you perked up and he rolled his eyes.

“No.”

“You made up with your girlfriend then?”

“It’s complicated.”

“You really need to go to Italy for a surprise visit,” you pointed at him with your fork “That’d be incredibly romantic.”

“Is that right, love doctor?”

Your jaw dropped, “Come on, when have I ever failed you with my advice?” you asked, “If you love this girl, you need to show her that.”

“I’m just gonna play it cool.”

“That’s a terrible idea!” you said, “I know you’re not the romantic type, but you need to at least make an effort!”

He shot you a look “I’m a romantic.”

“Bullshit,” you let out a laugh, “You might be the most emotionally distant person I’ve seen after me, and you’re telling me you’re—“

“I believe that some people are meant to be,” he cut you off, “No matter the circumstances. Consequences be damned, anyone who thinks otherwise doesn’t deserve to be in love. I think if you’re in love, you should adore that person every day, and be there for them for better or worse. Whatever sacrifice it takes.”

You blinked a couple of times, shock coming over you, “Linc…”

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for the woman I love,” he told you, “Trust me. Nothing at all.”

You just gawked at him for a few seconds before you put your fork down.

“I stand corrected,” you muttered, and he grinned at you.

“Yeah, how does it feel to be wrong?”

“Oh shut up,” you said and stabbed your salad once more, ignoring his laugh.

By the time your lunch with Lincoln was over and you got back to your office, your fingers were itching to text Spencer. Reminding yourself that he was probably busy, you managed to suppress the urge and waited for the elevator doors to open.

Erica was already waiting for you by the door and you let out a whine.

“Don’t tell me,” you said, “You have bad news because today has a grudge with me.”

“I mean it’s not bad, but I figured you’d want to know.”

“Give me some good news, like you saw a puppy today or they named a whiskey after me or—“

“Your mother is waiting for you in your office.”

“I said good news, Erica.” you reminded her and made your way to your office before you opened the glass door to step inside. Your mother looked over her shoulder, sitting up straighter on the couch.

“Hi honey.”

“Hi mom,” you walked to peck her on the cheek, “What’s up? To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I need help,” she said and you hung your coat, placed your purse on the coffee table, motioning at one of the interns for coffee before you leaned back to the table.

“Sure thing, what is it?”

“How do my nails look?” she held up her hand and you pulled your brows together.

“That’s what you need help with?” you asked “You do realize that this is why we have phones?”

“No, I wanted to talk face to face for my next question.”

“Ah, I won’t like that question will I?” you hissed in a breath, “Your nails are fine by the way.”

“It’s just that, I don’t know when Nolan will propose so I booked my nail artist for a month.”

“I want to have your problems,” you muttered as your phone buzzed and you checked the screen, then touched the text message.

From: Spencer

The power of Love borne in my lady's eyes

imparts its grace to all she looks upon.

You couldn’t help the wide smile pulling at your lips as you skimmed Dante’s lines, then thought for a moment and typed in:

See that you bless the day that I took you captive; it is your duty to do so.

“Y/N!”

You lifted your head, “Hm?”

“Are you listening to me?”

“Yeah, sorry,” you lowered the phone as the intern brought you two cups of coffee. You thanked her, then turned to your mother, “It’s just… Spencer is out of the city again, that’s why— never mind. What did you want to ask me?”

“I think I have an idea about Nolan’s proposal and this…potential marriage.”

You cleared your throat, “Uh, sorry. My client list is full.”

“Nobody buys that excuse honey.”

“I mean can you blame me?” you asked, “You would be the worst bride I’ve ever had to deal with, no offense.”

“First of all, I’ll just have a cocktail, not a wedding,” she said, “It would be inappropriate to have a wedding, considering our ages.”

“Mom!” you protested, “That’s not a thing! Anyone can have a wedding, fuck what society thinks.”

“Very delicately put, but I’ve made up my mind,” she said, “That’s not what I came here for. I decided, I want to be with Nolan and spend the rest of my life with him. So I will say yes when he proposes.”

“A surprise to no one,” you grinned and she shot you a look.

“But considering what people would think, I feel like I need to make a schedule. Do you happen to know when Spencer will propose?”

The coffee you were drinking went down the wrong tube and you started coughing, but your mother sipped her own coffee, patiently waiting for you to stop.

“Say- say what now?” you asked and she shrugged her shoulders.

“Yes, I was thinking I could stay engaged to Nolan until after your future wedding.”

“Mom we’re not— I’m—“ you stammered, “That’s not happening.”

She tilted her head, “Oh don’t be nonsense, you’re in love. Very obvious to anyone who has eyes, he couldn’t stop looking at you throughout dinner the other night.”

“Yeah but….” you cleared your throat, “I don’t think he’s planning anything like that.”

“Well—“

“I’m not going to ask him if he’s planning anything like that,” you cut her off, “I don’t live in Victorian ages, neither do you. I told you, you can get married to the eccentric billionaire puppy with a bowtie whenever you want.”

She rolled her eyes at you. “Unbelievable.”

“Right back at you lady.”

“If Nolan lets you know about when, you will tell me okay?”

“I doubt he’ll let me know, he looks like he’s got it covered.”

“And you’re still planning my cocktail party when the time comes.”

“Mom, no!” you let out a whine, throwing your head back, “Please don’t do that to me. I’m your daughter, you’re supposed to love me!”

“I do love you, that’s why I don’t trust anyone else with my wedding except for you.”

“Don’t trust me,” you said, “I’m begging you not to trust me. Planning Mina’s wedding was bad enough, you’re even a bigger control freak than she is—“

“Y/N.”

“I say that respectfully!”

She put her cup of coffee on the glass table, then stood up.

“Just remember, I absolutely hate carnation flowers and polyester gives me a rash.”

“Why does God hate me?” you wondered out loud and she kissed you on the cheek.

“I’ll see you tonight honey,” she said and walked out of your office, ignoring your overly dramatic whining. You buried your face into your palms, letting out a groan.

“I really should’ve drunk something heavier than rosé.”

***

You had picked this dress thinking Spencer would like it, and now that he wouldn’t be there with you, you were two seconds away from changing it. You heaved a sigh, looking in the mirror before you fixed the tulle floor length skirt of the pale pink dress and pulled at the long sleeves adorned with lace. The small screen by the door lit up as it started ringing and you walked there to touch it, then told the doorman that he could send Lincoln upstairs when he told you he was there.

Soon enough, the doorbell rang and you opened it.

“Hey,” you said, grinning when he did a double take and blinked a couple of times.

“Wow.”

“Bad wow?”

“Good wow.”

“Why thanks Linc, you clean up well too. Come in!” you stepped aside so that he could enter the apartment and he looked around as you closed the door.

“Nice place.”

“Thanks,” you said and checked the time before you went to the kitchen island. “You’re early.”

“And you started early,” he nodded at the wine glass on the kitchen island, making you shrug.

“I just have one e-mail to check for confirmation, then we can go.”

“No rush,” he said, leaning back to the wall as you looked at the photos of the wedding venue for your newest client, swirling the wine in your glass.

“You want some?”

“Nah, not yet,” he said, “Work stuff?”

“Mm hm,” you mumbled, “She describes the venue she wants as boho-glam so it’s going to be pretty tough for me to find a lot of options.”

“Your job is definitely more fun than mine.”

“My job is harder than yours,” you pointed at him and he scoffed.

“How is that?”

“Have you ever dealt with an angry bride?” you asked him, “You wouldn’t last a goddamn second. Just the other day, one of them tried to make me give her a list of her wedding dress options too, the one thing I’m not responsible from.”

“I mean can you blame her?” Lincoln asked, “You obviously have a good taste, look at yourself.”

“Aw thanks Linc,” you hit send, and closed down the laptop lid before you reached for your wine glass to take a sip, taking a step towards the coffee table.

“Yeah I’ll almost feel sorry for Spencer for missing it.”

It took you a second. For a second, it was all good and then you stopped dead on your tracks, a shudder running down your spine as your brain comprehended what he just told you. You could feel the goosebumps rising on your arms as you put the glass down, your back still turned to him.

“I never told you I was dating Spencer,” you managed to mumble through frozen lips and he chuckled.

“No you didn’t,” he said, “Erica told me. Family dinner with Spencer, it was on your schedule the other night.”

Your thoughts were like a tornado in your head as your heart started slamming against your ribcage and you turned to him, your eyes finding potential weapons you could use all around the room instantly and he tilted his head.

“So I know that there are about fifty things in this room you can attack me with,” he said, “But just so you know, if you try anything, your niece goes down. You don’t want your precious Lily to have an accident, do you? Because I don’t either.”

That red haze clouded your vision for a moment as your jaw clenched.

“I’m going to kill you,” your voice didn’t even sound like it belonged to you anymore, it was way too cold, way too calm, the shock leaving its place to fury roaring through your veins. A manic smile pulled at Lincoln’s lips and that dangerous gleam which you had seen multiple times in your father’s eyes appeared in his eyes as well before he took a step towards you.

“I missed your fire,” he said as if he was in awe, “So much. It’s been a torture to keep my distance from you. But honestly, Petal,” he tut-tutted, then reached behind him and pulled out his gun to point it at you.

“You should’ve known better.”

Chapter 27

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid imagines #twisted #spencer #reid

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killerskillercaptain · 3 years

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Forget Me Not - part II

this work is based on this request by anon

pairing : levi ackerman x reader

wc : 1037

themes : reincarnation au, canonverse to modern au, Levi and Reader both reincarnate in modern au, Levi remembers his past life, reader does not.

warnings : mention of car accident

a/n : everyone is reincarnated here, enjoy !

"Thank goodness you're awake !" said the small young woman entering the room.

She spoke with a soft voice, her hair was a candid ginger color and her eyes were big and bright but full of concern for you.

"How are you feeling doctor ?"

Doctor ?

Oh right, you remembered now, this is the hospital you work at, that's why the room felt familiar, this was one of those rooms were patients would rest after a surgery, you just never actually laid down in one of those beds. You still didn't recall how you found yourself here but you remembered the name of the young woman standing in front of you with a worried look.

"Petra, how did i get here ? What happened ?"

Petra's eyes grew bigger with worry, as if she didn't believe you just asked this question. You always liked her, she was younger than you, and just an intern but she was sharp, efficient, well-mannered and you remember you were impressed by how much recommendation letters she had when she first got here. She also showed a lot of respect to the hierarchy, which is something you appreciated.

"You got hit by a car"

"Really ?" you barely remembered.

"Yes, apparently you were crossing the street when that happened, but it's nothing serious really, you just had a concussion, you were conscious when Oruo and Gunther from the emergency service brought you up here, you must have slept that's all"

You listened only partly to her explanation, pain still shooting through your head.

You couldn't remember the said accident but everything came back to you slowly : you were a surgeon at the Maria Hospital, you lived alone in an appartement on a main avenue and Petra was your intern.

Still holding your head and groaning, you tried to get up.

"Maybe you should rest a little more doctor !" said Petra nervously.

"No, i'm okey, i just need some aspirin and coffee and i'll be back on track. You talked about a concussion, did you do an x-ray ?"

"Yes, everything is fine don't worry"

"Great"

Putting your slippers on, you managed to walk out of the room, making a bee line to the coffee machine tucked in the corner of your service. Pushing some coins down the machine's insides, you heard the familiar clicking of money then another mechanical echo followed by the sound of hot liquid being poured down.

You picked up the cup and let the steam overwhelm you for a moment, drowning the usual background noise of the hospital.

One, two, three. You counted down before opening your eyes again and allowing your senses to take in your surroundings : chatter, cries, the sound of things rolling around, feet shuffling in every direction, and overwhelmed nurses answering the phone.

****

It was 5 pm when you got out of the hospital, you decided to go home early today to get some rest, but also because Petra couldn't stop telling you to. You swung your cardigan over your shoulder, fixed your hair, did a quick stop by the toilet, grabbed a bottle of water at the same coffee machine and stepped foot outside.

It was the beginning of fall, and you enjoyed the shy breeze caressing your face softly, pushing aside some strands of hair. Looking for your car, you suddenly remembered you didn't drive it to come to work today, you had decided to walk instead. You mentally thought that maybe if you had taken your car as usual you wouldn't have been hit by a car. But who knows, maybe if you drove here you would still have gotten hit by the same car, the universe does play some tricks on you sometimes.

With doubled precaution, you were about tot cross streets when you noticed some police cars with their flickering lights and two cars, a red and a black one. The black car had hit the red one from behind and crashed its bumper on it. Petra did say that you got hit by a red car, so it must be that one. You approached the group of people looking at the scenery, and upon hearing what was being gossiped, you understood that the vehicles were still here because the police took ages to come.

The man who apparently was the driver of the red car that hit you was standing, holding his head in his hand as a police officer-very short in stature and visibly pissed-was scribbling something on a note.

More and more people passing by were stopping to watch the scene, which lead to more chatter.

"Tsk ! shut up" said the short policeman, probably more pissed at the commotion than the car crash.

The driver who hit you, suddenly recognized you and his face changed its expression quickly.

"Miss ! Miss ! Hey miss ! You're completely fine right ?"

This threw you off guard and you felt like you were being put on the spot, with so many eyes darting toward you now.

"Y-yes, i'm alright."

"See ? See officer ! She has nothing ! It wasn't that big of an accident !"

But the officer wasn't listening to him anymore, he was looking at you with an intensity that made you uncomfortable, he stared at you with wide eyes and an expression you couldn't quite decipher. He almost looked...shocked to see you.

What's wrong with him looking at me like that. You thought

"She's completely fine officer ! I didn't cause any more harm, so could you ease up a little bit-"

This snapped the short man out of whatever he was in, interrupting the driver.

"You don't get to tell me how i do my work asshole" he spit back at the driver.

Wow, he's so rude, and so angry. You thought, shocked and amused at the same time by his attitude.

You decided you had nothing to do here anymore and turned around.

Once the drivers parted ways, and all legal formalities were done, most of the police cars were gone, except for one vehicle.

The short police officer was still standing right where the collision happened, looking at spot where you were just a minute ago before disappearing inside the crowd. His arms hanging on each side of his body, still baffled

"I finally found you"

part II, next : part III

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scapegrace74-blog · 3 years

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New Ways of Turning Into Stone

A/N Another long drive, another Outlander fanfic idea that dropped into my brain out of nowhere, shoving aside the historical AU I have been wrestling with for months. Here’s the pitch: Claire Beauchamp is a psychiatrist specializing in grief counselling. Jamie Fraser is referred to her by his sister, who is worried for his well-being after a series of family tragedies. You can probably guess the rest, but I’m going to write it anyway. The title is taken from a song by the amazing Phantogram that was playing as the story idea came to me.

After losing my WIP virginity posting Ginger Snap, I’m going out on that limb again and posting this first chapter with only a rough outline mapped out in my head. You people are a terrible influence! Also, there will be some trigger warnings on future chapters, so please watch out for those. And now, on with our show.

Claire Beauchamp glanced down at the leather-bound calendar open on her desk. The ivory page for Thursday was packed to the margins, each hourly block filled with the name of a patient followed by a series of cuneiform symbols she used to remind herself of the last session, course of treatment, overall progress, all while maintaining strict confidentiality. Not even Geillis Duncan, her office administrator and very good friend, knew how to decode the script.

Geillis liked to laugh at the old-fashioned day planner, reminding Claire that their practice utilized software that could perform the same function electronically, but she enjoyed the act of physically logging each session. The solid heft of her Mont Blanc pen in her hand, a medical school graduation gift from her Uncle Lamb. The scratch and grab of the nub as it bled black ink over virgin paper. It was a tactile ceremony in a detached world. Geillis would nod and then tell her she needed to get laid.

Speak of the devil, a sharp rap on her office door was followed by the appearance of her strawberry blonde head. blue eyes alight with mischief.

“Yer two o’clock is here. Did ye need more time tae finish bolting down tha’ chaff ye call a salad, or can I show him in?”

“It’s kale,” she defended. “It’s full of anti-oxidants.”

A disdainful scoff was the only response.

“Yes, Geil, please show Mister...” she glanced down at her planner, “...Fraser in, thank you.”

The tiny rectangle contained only a name, which meant this was their first appointment. Geillis vetted all prospective patients, but Claire preferred to go into the first meeting blind, with no assumptions or pre-conceptions.

She wondered what misfortune had caused Mr. Fraser to seek out her psychiatric services. The death of a child, perhaps, or the end of an extra-marital affair. People grieved for very different reasons and worked through or around that grief with a surprising variety of coping mechanisms. Most called upon her practice in much the same way they would a breakdown truck when their car’s engine failed. They simply wanted to get back on the road to happiness.

Despite the degrees and accreditations that decorated her office wall, Claire wasn’t certain such a thing was possible. In her experience, grief was a phantom limb that never really went away. The best one could hope for was to learn healthier ways of living with it.

The sound of Geillis clearing her throat snapped her back to the present.

“Was there something else, Geil?”

“Och, no’ really. Just, when yer considerin’ how tae thank me later on, remember tha’ my favourite stone is an emerald, that I prefer gold tae silver, but platinum is ne’er amiss.”

“What are you on about, Duncan?” But her friend had already disappeared back into the reception area, leaving behind only the glow of her Cheshire smile. Claire was shaking her head, bemused, when another knock rang out, this one considerably heavier than the first.

“Come in,” she called as she looked up. And up. And up some more.

The man who now practically filled her office door had to be at least six foot four, with powerful shoulders and a broad torso encased in a blue henley. His nearly endless legs were likewise muscular, as testified by the stretch of his jeans across each thigh. As if his physique wasn’t remarkable enough, he had a head of outrageously wavy red hair, worn long enough to graze the tops of his ears and the nape of his neck, but swept back from a high brow by a judicious use of product. His face was angular in a pleasingly unique way, with a day or two’s growth of beard counter-balancing an almost youthful, earnest appearance. But his most striking feature by far were his aquamarine eyes that shimmered like a tropical sea. Eyes that were currently observing her with perplexity.

“Dr. Beauchamp?” a deep Scottish brogue inquired. He pronounced it as though she were French.

“Yes,” she startled. “That’s me. And it’s pronounced Beecham. Please, come in Mister Fraser.” She shuffled a few items around her desk needlessly as she tried to compose herself. Damn Geillis for not giving her a bit more warning that her newest client was some sort of fitness model.

“Thank ye,” he replied. “An’ it’s pronounced Jamie, if ye please.” She added wit to the growing list of the man’s attributes.

If anything, he grew even more impressive as he approached. She could see he was nervous, although hiding it well. His striking eyes darted about the room, trying to get a sense of his environment. She indicated the well-upholstered armchair that sat to one side of her desk.

“Have a seat,” she invited.

With a surprising amount of grace for one so tall, he eased into the chair but didn’t lean back. The fingers of his left hand tapped restlessly against his thigh. She watched him quietly, waiting for him to speak. This was a trick she had learned when she first started practicing psychiatry, but in this case it also allowed her to continue her appraisal. He was, she concluded, the most attractive man she’d ever seen in the flesh.

“No couch,” he finally observed.

“No. That’s a bit of a Hollywood trope, I’m afraid. Lying prone in front of a stranger is hardly conducive to feeling at ease.”

He nodded his acceptance of her logic, but was otherwise silent.

“So,” she spoke at last, unable to wait him out, “what caused you to seek out counselling, Jamie?” His name suited him, she thought as she spoke it for the first time. Both boyish and imposing at once.

“I didna. Twas my sister, Jenny, who insisted I see a doctor.” His mobile mouth twisted into a grimace. She could imagine the sibling discord that such a demand would have caused. Whoever this Jenny was, she was made of strong stuff. Unfortunately for her, a hostile patient would receive no benefit from merely visiting her office. Counselling was a participatory process, and she could tell from the stubborn set of Jamie’s shoulders that he had no intention of participating.

“I see,” she said carefully. “Well, it’s your time and your dime, Mr. Fraser. This session lasts for forty-five minutes, and you’ve not been here for five. There’s a carafe of hot water on the table over there, if you care for some tea. Or you’re welcome to just enjoy that comfortable chair for another forty minutes. I’ll be working on some administrative necessities.”

She turned her chair away from him, but from the corner of her eye she could see his gobsmacked expression. He had clearly expected her to cajole and manipulate him into co-operating, but that simply wasn’t her style.

“I meant no offence, doctor. I’m certain ye’re verra good at what ye do. Tis only... well, Jenny is my older sister, ye ken. She practically raised me. And so ofttimes she treats me like a muckle-sized bairn, and no’ a man who’s capable of lookin’ after himself.”

As he spoke, Jamie leaned forward until his elbows rested on his knees, expressive hands gesturing in front of his face. Hostile to the notion of counselling he might be, but he clearly wanted her to understand it wasn’t a slight. As a physician, she had been trained to never take a patient’s reactions personally, but it didn’t mean she didn’t appreciate the effort.

“No offence taken, Jamie. If you don’t need my assistance, I’m happy for you. That’s one less person hurting in the world.”

“I didna say I wasna hurting. But I can handle it my own way. I am handling it, that is,” he hurried to add.

Unable to sit still any longer, he rose and walked over to the small table where she kept an assortment of herbal teas and a tray of Geillis’ homemade biscuits. Bending over, Jamie set about making himself some; chamomile by the smell of it. The sound of spoon ringing off porcelain as he stirred in some honey made her smile, reminding her of Lamb and his obsession with the lost art of afternoon tea.

“Can I make ye a cup?”

The question was so unexpected, it took her a moment to process it. The tea was there as a distraction for her patients, to give them something to do with their bodies as they worked through difficult emotions. None of them had ever thought to offer her a reprieve as well.

“No, thank you. I just finished lunch.”

He dipped a shortbread into the steaming tea, then ate it in a single bite. Instead of sitting back down, he began to browse the framed certificates and photographs along the far wall as he sipped his tea. With his back turned, her eyes dipped to admire his ass, which filled out his jeans perfectly. When she caught herself, she gave her head a shake, appalled at her lack of professional detachment. Maybe Geillis was right. Maybe she really did need to get laid.

“How long have ye been a doctor?” Jamie asked without turning around.

“Ten years,” she replied. “But I’ve only been a psychiatrist for the last two.”

It was a dangerous topic, and she blamed his ass for letting the words slip out. Fortunately, his inquisitiveness took him in an entirely different direction.

“Were ye some kind of prodigy, then? Ye hardly seem old enough tae have yer own practice, let alone fer a decade. If ye dinna mind me sayin’ so,” he added quickly, as though realizing what he’d just said.

“Not at all. And you hardly seem young enough to be a, what was it? A muckle-sized bairn?”

As he turned to look her way, she understood the expression ‘shot-gun smile’ for the first time. It spread across his face like a sunbeam, transforming what was already remarkable into a work of art. If she hadn’t been sitting, she likely would have stumbled backward from the force of the blow. Scrambling for something familiar to keep her from making a very grave fool of herself in front of this man, she clasped her clinical training with both hands.

“Are you and your sister close?”

“Aye, when we’re no’ tryin’ not tae kill the other. Our Mam died when I was only four, and with Da workin’ dawn til dark on the farm, Jenny was parent, teacher an’ playmate all rolled inta one.”

“You’re not from Edinburgh, then?” Although what that had to do with his counselling, she hadn’t a clue.

“Nah, I hail from a wee village in the Highlands ye’ve likely ne’er heard of called Broch Mordha.” She shook her head to indicate she was indeed unfamiliar with it. Jamie launched into a detailed description of the place, his hands sculpting the landscape out of thin air. He obviously cared very deeply for his home, and she felt a twinge of jealousy, having never known that feeling of deep belonging herself.

“And what brought you to Old Smoky?” she asked as he wound down, her interest piqued. It was like slamming a lead door on his previously sunny disposition.

“Family obligations.” Said in such a way as to make it clear that no further words would be forthcoming on the topic. She regretted her nosiness immediately, despite what it revealed about his emotional state. Jamie was most certainly grieving something, but handling it he was not.

Before she could find a way back to the easy flow of conversation, a chime from her laptop indicated that the session was up. She couldn’t bear to dismiss him without trying to set things right.

“Listen, Jamie, I understand that you only came here today to humour your sister, but I want you to consider something. Whether we’re grieving or angry or jealous, or any destabilizing feeling, we’re often the worst surveyors of our own landscape. Just like you can’t know your place on the sea without referencing the stars, it takes something external to ourselves to measure how far adrift we have become. Your sister obviously loves you. Ask yourself, what has she seen in you that prompted her to force you to seek help?”

They parted with cordial but muted goodbyes. The door closed behind him, leaving Claire to stare at the blank rectangle in her planner that bore his name. No coded symbols flowed from her pen. When the door re-opened, it was Geillis, closing it firmly behind her.

“Weel, did I no’ tell ye? Wee fox, tha’ one. And he told me he liked my shortbread!” Geillis said this as though it was some kind of sexual euphemism, which for all Claire knew, it was.

“Yes,” she replied distractedly. “He’s very nice.”

“Nice! Nice? Tha’ man is tae nice what Wagyu is tae beef jerky. Have ye completely lost yer senses, woman?”

“Yes, well, he’s a patient, Geillis, as you well know. And not one I’m likely to see again,” she added, acknowledging out loud what she already knew.

“Oh, no?” Geillis sing-songed. “Thas’ strange, as he just made an appointment fer the same time next week.”

Claire’s eyes flew to where her friend looked on, smug as could be.

“Yer three o’clock called tae say she was runnin’ five minutes late. I’ll leave ye tae think about yer... patient.”

Claire picked up her pen, trying to pull together something resembling a professional summary of her first appointment with Jamie. Her mind replayed their interaction, but all she could remember was the way his eyes crinkled when he was listening attentively, the tidy half-moons of his fingernails, the seam of his jeans as it contoured his thigh, and the cymbal-crash in her chest that accompanied his smile.

Patient, she reminded herself. Jamie Fraser is your patient.

#my writing #outlander

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