#and i dislocated my fingers while typing out this ramble

[straight-outta-collagen]

Jesus Christ I'm just. Pissed. Angry cripple coming through

All of this cripplepunk discourse is making me so upset. Like, holy shit -- no, mental health problems are not the same as physical health problems. And I don't mean that in a way that waters down how much mental health problems fucking suck! I'm dealing with both! I get it! But they don't suck in the same ways and I'm not being evil by saying that they should each be able to have their own spaces!

Listen, I *get* that sometimes mental health stuff can take a physical toll! I know that anxiety can cause cardiac problems and PTSD can sometimes give you chronic pain and so on and so forth. And as far as I'm concerned, if your disabilities are primarily mental but overlap in a way that makes them physical too (like what I mentioned earlier, or gastrointestinal issues, or tremors that make it so you can't hold things) then sure, fuck, whatever! Cripplepunk is for people with invisible physical disabilities too and as long as you're experiencing an *invisible physical disability* then even if it's based in your mental disabilities they count. But this isn't a mental health focused space and was never meant to be. Cripplepunk was created by physically disabled people, for physically disabled people, for us to be able to find community with other people who experience shitty body stuff like us. And if you experience shitty body stuff that's fine, come and join us, but don't be shocked if everyone is so busy talking about dislocations and incontinence and chronic pain and how to use mobility aids properly to properly connect with you on your depression or dissociative disorder. There are other spaces for that, where you can talk to people with other mental health problems and get support and community and tips on coping with shit, and I know this because I'm in them! Neuropunk and madpunk fuck severely and they're wonderful places to get what you're looking for!

But if you're dealing with shitty mental health and disabilities of the mental sort, and don't have much in the way of debilitating physical symptoms because of them -- why the hell do you want to call yourself a slur so bad? There's nothing wrong with being able bodied. We're not trying to make a cool kids only club that your functional organs or usable limbs are somehow not good enough for. We just want a space where we can be loudly, unashamedly physically disabled and not have to worry about able bodied folks butting in. I'm autistic and enjoy many autism-only spaces free from allistics talking over us, am I being ableist for requesting that, say, a allistic depressed person not join that autistic-only space? No, because it's for autistic folks! The allistic person wouldn't get any of the support they need there, and might talk over the autistic people in the process without meaning to. Or if I created a discord for psychotic folks (which I am, before anyone yells at me) then would I be unreasonable to turn someone away who didn't experience any psychotic symptoms at all? Absolutely not! Why is it so unreasonable to create a community for ourselves where we can talk about our own bodies and experiences?

This isn't the oppression olympics. This isn't us meanie cripples barring poor mentally ill abled folks from the single scrap of community they otherwise could have had. This isn't us evil gimps saying that we have it sooo much worse than you, all the time forever, and mental health problems are nothing in comparison to what we go through. This isn't even us saying that you can't have solidarity and community with us even under the wider umbrella of disability as a whole! This is just us, saying that our experiences can be vastly different, and it's not unreasonable to want to have our own space to talk about things that you might not experience.

[delimeful]

or set your teeth against my throat (1)

warnings: vampires, blood, injury, violence, abduction, non consensual blood drinking, depressive thoughts, mild hypnosis, murder mention

-

Vampires, Roman was finding, seemed to have an even more shit sense of hospitality than he’d previously assumed.

Maybe it was ungenerous of him, considering this was the only coven he’d interacted with up close and personal, but he wasn’t really feeling particularly generous at the moment. When he’d been cornered, isolated from the rest of his pack, he’d expected a quick and valorous death, fighting to the last. Not… this.

Another rock made contact with the bars of his cage, the clang of stone on metal vibrating around him. His ears twitched down to flatten against his skull without his input, and he snarled low in his throat as a jeering laugh rose from the crowd.

As if it wasn’t bad enough, being taken hostage for whatever nefarious purposes they had in mind, bound and muzzled like some common animal, no, they had to parade him through the streets and batter his cage with pebbles and glass and whatever other projectiles the bloodsuckers thought fitting to torment their captive audience with.

None of it could get through the enchantment on the bars, so he wasn't struck, but it was still rough on the ears. And his feelings.

Not that they cared. That was probably the point, actually.

Gathering his resolve, he forced himself to remain still and unflinching as another shard of rock hit the cage and spun away, clenching his hands to keep them from trembling. None of this mattered. It didn’t matter what they did to him, because he would not break. He wouldn’t tell them a single thing about his pack, not one scrap of information.

He would die first, and without regrets.

-

As it turned out, the coven-- Kin of Æternam, they called themselves-- didn’t seem to care for information. Not a single vampire spoke to him as he was moved further and further into the town, and he couldn’t exactly initiate a conversation himself with a gag in his mouth.

Instead, he watched, and found to no surprise that he didn’t like what he saw.

He’d known many vampires were nomadic, but it was one thing to distantly know and another thing entirely to see the human town around them, half the houses smoldering and the other half looking uncomfortably ransacked. He could see the dark splatters of dried blood along walls or among the dirt, though mercifully it seemed like it had been long enough since their invasion that any remaining human bodies had been cleared away.

Roman didn’t risk interacting with humans often. He knew the tales that were spread about werewolves, and the last thing his tiny pack needed was an angry mob on their tails. Even with his reservations, though, he would never wish something like this upon them. Upon anyone.

The Æternam vamps walked among the ruins casually, as though this was everyday scenery, and Roman supposed that for them, it probably was. Simple routine; find a human settlement, feed to their unbeating hearts’ content, hold revel, and then depart again. Rinse and repeat.

It was enough to turn his stomach, and he was almost grateful when his view of the town was blocked off by their entry into the large stone fort that loomed over all else. Almost.

His opinion of the place went downhill as soon as he saw the ostentatious throne and the vampire sprawled across it, both placed on a literal gilded pedestal. Dark raven hair, corpse-like skin, and glowing red eyes painted the picture of the archetypal tyrant vamp. He found himself strangely disappointed by the lack of originality in the man’s presentation. If he was going to die to a bloodsucker, couldn’t it at least be one with a sense of style?

One of the attendant vamps pulled the door of his prison open, and Roman lunged against his restraints with all his might, snarling past the muzzle. The attendant flinched back, but the iron cuffs that bound him held firm no matter how hard he strained. The vampire on the throne laughed, the way one might at a child throwing a tantrum.

“Oh, you are a spitfire, aren’t you? All the better.”

Roman tried to convey how much this guy’s villain aesthetic sucked with his heated glare alone. He was pretty sure Virgil could have created a better evil persona than this guy in his sleep. At age twelve. While feverish. It was sad, really.

The platitudinous prick-- Roman instantly decided to alternate between very clever and very rude nicknames for the guy in his head-- beckoned, and the attendant unlocked the chain keeping him bolted to the floor of the cage. They proceeded to grab the connecting bar between the cuffs locked around his arms and maneuver him up the steps to the pedestal with probably more force than strictly necessary.

Roman had been riding in that cage for hours, and as such, had time to prepare for a lot of potential scenarios. He grew more and more tense the closer he got to the trite enthroned bastard, mentally readying himself for what was likely to be at best an assault on his person and at worst, a horrifying and gory death.

Instead, he was steered to the side of the throne, and then shoved to his knees, at which point he realized that a horrifying and gory death might not be so bad after all. Because now the attendant was locking his cuffs into a new platform, one that was designed to force him to stay hunched over and kneeling at the side of the throne. He growled, prying at the restraints, but there was little give in the cuffs. He was stuck like this, practically on display for the world to see.

“Perfect, right where a mutt like you belongs,” Vlad the Contemptible smiled sharply, as though proud of his pitiful insult.

Were all vampires this insufferably smug? Like, was it part of the package, along with the dumb looking fangs and the tacky glowing eyes? He was glad that werewolves had eyes that merely reflected light, like the respectable, well-designed creatures of nature they were.

It was possible that Roman was rambling, mentally, a little bit. He wished desperately that he could protest the indignity of it all, denounce these freaks and their humiliating tactics, but in this state, there was little he could do but glare impotently.

The bloodsucker seemed entirely too content to ignore him and his glaring hatred entirely for the next few hours, which confused Roman at first. Clearly, he was still alive for a reason, and he felt as though he’d done more than enough waiting to learn about his fate at this point. Plus, his knees hurt.

At the very least, the pain in the neck on the throne next to him seemed like the type to gloat, so why wasn’t he?

As dusk fell, Roman got his answer. More and more vamps filtered into the wide stone hall, filling the space with their corpse-cold bodies and idle chatter. Once the last bit of sun had faded over the horizon, the Toothed Tyrant slowly straightened up in his seat, drawing all the eyes in the room to him. This was what he’d been waiting for.

What was the point in gloating about your evil deeds without an audience to lavish you in praise for it?

“Kin of mine. As I’m sure many of you have noticed, we have a... guest with us this evening.”

Roman shivered as those icy, glowing gazes moved towards him, jeering or morbidly curious or hungry. He pulled at the chains once more just to have something else to focus on, the shift and clink of the metal drowned out by his rapid heartbeat in his ears. He wondered if the vamps could hear it, too.  

The pitiful excuse for a villain was still talking. “... fullest potency once the full moon hits, and our hunt will decide who claims such a reward.” His half-lidded gaze slid over to Roman. “A beast like this one has engaged in plenty of hunts before, I assume? Though, probably not as prey. I’m sure it’ll get used to the sensation eventually.”

Even with the gag, Roman could snarl as fierce as any wolf, and the rumbling growl emanating from his chest made some of the closer vamps lean away.

It didn’t seem to have any effect on the worst human leech of them all. He just smiled in a satisfied sort of way before rising to his feet. “What a rebellious spirit. Perhaps you should save that for the hunt, mutt?”

Think up some new nicknames, you absolute bore, Roman thought at him, just in case those rumors about vampires reading minds were true.

The vamp walked closer, until he was at the edge of the platform and Roman had to crane his head back to see his face.

“Let’s give us both a taste of what’s to come, then.”

Without pause, there were suddenly hands on his shirt, dragging him upwards until the restraints threatened to dislocate something. One moment, he was nearly face to face with the vamp, meeting those eye-searing red pupils. In the next, his vision blurred as sharp pain shot through his neck.

The vamp had sunk its nasty fangs in on either side of his jugular, not deep enough to kill him, but enough that it would only take the slightest twitch of the head for his throat to be ripped right out. His body kept frozen even as he began to choke, his mouth tasting of iron and salt.

There was nothing he could do. He couldn’t escape, couldn’t attack, couldn’t even die until these monsters allowed it. The more he fought and resisted, the tighter their grasp on him would become, and the more he would suffer. It would be better to just give up now, save himself the trouble.

(Why am I… That’s not right--)  

Roman only realized the vampire was withdrawing when those sharp teeth finally pulled away carelessly, causing a new wave of pain to roll through him. He automatically tried to reach for his throat, to stem the bleeding, but his bound hands could barely rise a few inches. He bent his head down instead, his pride stinging silently as a cacophony of mockery sounded all around him.

Once his fingers touched flesh, however, he could only feel shallow cuts rather than the gaping wounds he knew should be there. He coughed wetly, and red splattered across his hands, but he could breathe once more. However bad the bite had been, it had healed near instantly.

Of course. It was beginning to sink in that they wouldn’t let him perish that easily.

The vampire king was speaking again, eyes brighter than before, and his words blurred together and slipped away from Roman’s understanding. He could only notice the smear of deep red on the vampire’s face, and shudder where he lay as a chill set into his bones.

-

Time passed in a haze, marked by the constant flurry of vamp activity in the fort around him, the occasional meal to keep him alive, and his connection to the ever-waxing moon.

He felt a faint sense of concern about the way days seemed to slip away, and also about how far away and hard to grasp the concern itself felt. There was something seriously wrong when the growing light of the moon felt more like an approaching deadline than a relief.

The one other thing marking the time, he would much rather forget. Every night without fail, no matter how he fought, the same vampire would drag him up and plunge dagger-like teeth into his throat, leaving him drained and weak on the cold floor afterwards.

Roman wasn’t a fool; he knew that the bites were the reason he felt so exhausted and fuzzy. He just couldn’t do anything about it. The feeling of helplessness only grew stronger and stronger after each night, and slowly, he began to lose the will to fight the dreary feelings off.

By the time the night before the full moon hit, hope was hard to find.

He was slumped awkwardly against the ground when the door to the chamber creaked open, and the noise jolted him out of his dozing as quick as anything. His muscles went rigid and tense.

The head vamp hadn’t drank from him yet today, having left in the middle of the day with an  extensive entourage for… something. It had probably been mentioned in earshot-- they weren’t very careful about what he did and did not hear-- but Roman hadn’t been paying enough attention. Maybe they were scouting out new territory?

Regardless, he had sort of been hoping it would keep the bloodsucker out of his hair for long enough that he could recover even just a bit before… before he ran out of time. So much for that.

To his surprise, there was no trace of the vamp’s normal arrogant strides. In fact, there was barely any sound at all. Roman could only tell that someone was approaching by the shifting of shadows and that dusty undead smell.

Suddenly, there was a cold palm on his arm, and he jerked up with a jagged snarl, his mind screaming at him to do anything to prevent being bitten again. The palm was yanked away instantly, and Roman could see the silhouette of the vamp before him.

It definitely wasn’t the head vamp. Smaller, and with curled hair that reflected the torchlight. He couldn’t see his expression, and his mind still screamed dangerous. His growl increased in intensity as the vamp extended a hand again, but he’d called Roman’s bluff: he had no way to defend himself in the restraints. Whatever the vamp was going to do, he couldn’t stop it.

The vamp’s other hand rose, and Roman couldn’t stop himself from flinching.

It made it all the more surprising when he heard the clank of a key in a lock. His eyes shot open, and to his disbelief, the chain connecting his cuffs to the platform went loose, no longer attached. A moment later, the vamp’s hands were on his cuffs, but rather than grab them and drag him, there was another clank.

For the first time in days, fresh air grazed his wrists. His hands were free.

A surge of adrenaline hit him, and he twisted quicker than the vamp could react, pinning him to the ground with a knee to the abdomen and a hand over his throat. It would keep the creature from getting enough air to call out an alarm. With his other hand, he immediately tore at the muzzle, his nails going claw-sharp to tear through the straps. He spat the remnants of the wretched thing out, and turned his attention to the vamp.

Cold hands curled over Roman’s own, like he wanted to pry the hand off his throat, but other than that, he wasn’t struggling against Roman’s hold. Oddly enough, his chest was rising and falling in an uncanny mimicry of panicked breathing, and even his eyes seemed oddly dark for a vamp. Roman would have thought him a human if not for the unmistakable fangs.

His grip tightened at the reminder. “You’re not getting any more blood out of me,” he growled, his voice rough and crackly. His whole body felt out of practice. If he stood up and bolted, he risked falling flat on his own face, and if he turned and the vamp lunged…

No. Easier to just… just vanquish the vamp so he couldn’t do anything. One less thing to worry about during his escape.

He lifted his other hand, claws pinched together as a makeshift stake. The vampire twitched once, his mouth opening briefly as though to speak, and then seemed to slump. His hands stopped tugging at Roman’s fingers around his neck, and he pinched his eyes closed, bracing for the blow.

Roman frowned. Was this a ploy for sympathy?

He could feel the way the vamp trembled under him, unnaturally lifelike.

… It was an effective one. Shit.

He lowered his hand slowly, loosened his grip, waiting for the moment the stranger dropped the ruse and lunged. It didn’t come. He just kept waiting for Roman to hurt him.

He abruptly felt a little sick to his stomach. He let go of the vamp’s throat. The guy opened one eye slowly, like he thought it was a trick.

“If you get up from this spot, if you even twitch before I’m out of this building, I’ll make sure you regret it,” Roman threatened, a growl under the words and his lip curling up slightly to bare his teeth. “You won’t get mercy twice.”

The vamp’s expression did something complicated (Confusion? Relief? Disappointment?) but when Roman scuttled back, he stayed laid out on the floor, not moving a muscle. Roman let a breath out slowly, some of the tension fading from him. “Well… good. Keep doing that.”

He could practically hear Virgil sighing as his awkwardness overwhelmed any menace his threat might have instilled. It wasn’t his fault he was off-script, okay? This vampire was… weird.

Roman shuffled back a few more steps on weak legs, and then, once he was sure he was far enough away, he let the shift wash over him like a warm breeze. Four unsteady legs were better than two, and if he leaned a little on his instincts, his inner wolf would make his gait mostly smooth. It was a small but invaluable aid as as he sprinted down long, musty halls until he was finally, finally out of that cursed fortress.

Roman was so relieved he could have cried. He was still weak, and his head was still foggy, but he didn't stop until there was finally trees around him and dirt under his feet. As he collapsed, the night air still tasted like victory.

[edengarden]

hi! may i please have a regular haikyuu matchup? i’m a straight female and i’m a scorpio with personality type istp! for appearance, i’m about 5’7 last time i checked, i have brown eyes and brown hair. i have a red scar above my eyebrow but i can typically cover it up with my hair and it looks like todoroki’s scar but misplaced haha! i have an athletic build since i’m a competitive figure skater!

i’ll start with flaws since that’s easier >.< :

i have narcolepsy which is a big pain. it really affects me and my everyday life. so, typically i’m really tired and it’s hard for me to sleep at night so i’m a big night owl to the max. but when i’m energized, i’m like energized energized! i’ve been told i’m intimidating, and that it seems as though i don’t like to show emotion. i really don’t like to show my more negative emotions, i don’t want others to see me as weak and look down upon me. i’m a super impulsive person and don’t nessecarily think when i’m in a panic which a lot of times end me up in bad situations. i’m quiet which i don’t think it’s bad, but i’m not afraid to speak my mind and call someone out when needed. i’m stubborn and hate hate hate asking others for help. i judge a lot and i’m a really selective person, so if we are friends, then that means something. i hate unorganized spaces and i don’t like giving my opinion. if i don’t like something i will go out of my way to avoid it and just ignore whatever it is whether it’s schoolwork or a person, i could care less. i just really don’t care about things either way life will go on and i just have to live with it, i could care less.

now for a more positive go:

i’m a super fun person! like i said, when i’m energized i’m energized! when i’m most awake is at night typically so that’s when i do lots of things! i can do a hella good scooby doo impression like scarily good. my favorite thing to do is go to get slurpees at 7/11 when it’s 4 am because the employees are too tired to yell at me for getting two flavors. favorite song is womanizer by britany spears and i love to scream it at the top of my lungs to feel like a baddie b. i’m very loyal and keep my friends super close, because if i trust them then that is saying something. i’m super independent which can be a good and bad thing, i try to do everything efficiently and alone. i’m a perfectionist which is also probably a bad thing agh. i really like monster energy drinks and when i just straight up don’t sleep catch me surviving off of pure willpower with a monster in hand. i try to make the most of my life while i can, because i know if i die it might as well be in a badass way so i’m pretty adventurous! my passion in this world is figure skating and i’m a national champion! i love to surf and i love to snowboard. i’m a huge reader and i even work at a local bookstore! you can catch me with a book usually and i love anything to do with true crime, marine biology, and linguistics. i love anime and it makes me all happy and cozy to sit up in a. corner on a saturday morning and binge watch one piece with my chai tea. i also love christmas, especially the song mele kalikimaka i could sing it year round! my favorite thing in the entire world is plants eeeee!! i love plants so much i could go on for hours about them, i have many plants and my favorite one is a monstera a close friend gave me and ahh i love them! though, runner ups behind are chai tea and candles! i play the viola and i have a love hate relationship with the instrument. my favorite songs are lucy in the sky with diamonds and just like heaven but i also love classical music like clair de lune and danse macabre. my favorite bands are queen, nirvana, abba, billie holiday, and fleetwood mac! i’m a sucker for anything vintage and from the 40’s or 70’s. i have a dark academia type aesthetic i guess and love dressing of the sort.

hmm fun facts:

i’m from the netherlands and i love love love snow and any sort of rainy weather

i can speak 9 different languages and learning languages is one of my favorite things i find them so fascinating, (dutch, english, spanish, french, japanese, portugese, russian, german, and swedish! i’m trying to learn italian !!

my favorite book or manga i guess, is anything by junji ito

i can dislocate my fingers and relocate them

i love ferrets! i used to volunteer at my local shelter all the time.

i love horror movies as well the movie sleeping beauty it always makes me happy

i love wrapping presents

the way i got my scar was by once hitting my head on a coat rack because i was way too confident i was dreaming and that my head would just go right through, i wasn’t dreaming.

i’ve been kicked out of a walmart for laughing at a bag of marshmallows when i was way too tired and i probably looked like a maniac to be fair

these aren’t very fun facts bleh

my favorite color is either orange or navy blue and white

i’m rambling now and itend to ramble when i write i’m so sorry, thank you so much for your time and have a good day !!!

OH MY GOSH CLAIR DE LUNE IS THE MOST ROMANTIC SONG ON THIS EARTH?? Shit makes me cry.

Omg you’re such a mood too

I’m matching you up with Akaashi!

Especially with the negative traits that you’ve highlighted, I think he’d be a great option for you! Akaashi’s a trustworthy individual; I think he has an aura that just screams “trustworthy”, and we KNOW he’s a loyal mf. He’s a bit worried about SOME of your habits, but he would understand that you can’t exactly control your narcolepsy. Will he search it up to see if there’s anything he can do for you? Yes, absolutely. But he won’t outright help you; he’ll only start doing that (wordlessly) when he notices that you don’t reach out for help.

Oh my gosh, your dynamic is so amazing?? Akaashi being calm and collected and you being an absolute gremlin. I love it. At the beginning you’re just like “hey look what I can do” and you freakin dislocate a finger and boy freaks out, but after two years he just goes “nice baby I’m proud :)” and really, he IS proud. And he’ll tell you often. He also never misses a skating event; he’ll make sure to clear his schedule for them. Akaashi really enjoys the sport, it’s really beautiful to him. He thinks it’s an art.

You two are such an Intellectual Couple though?? With you practically being a linguist and him in literature? Big respect, people see you and they have to fight back the urge to bow. Y’all are royalty, and that’s that.

ALSO AOSKSJDHS THE THOUGHT OF YOU TWO SETTLED DOWN ON THE COUCH WITH FACE MASKS AND WINE WATCHING TRUE CRIME SHOWS IS SO FUNNY YET SO ACCURATE THESE ARE YOUR FAVOURITE DATES

Songs!!

- Jazz Suite No. 2: VI. Waltz II, Dmitri Shostakovich (do not question me; Akaashi wants to learn the waltz for this song)

- I’ll Follow the Sun, The Beatles

- Moondance, Van Morrison

- Win, David Bowie

[fire-fira]

Is That An Ace Up Your Sleeve?

So earlier I had this thought:

We all know Kate Kane is a blatant lesbian who won’t be stopped. We also know that Bruce Wayne’s playboy facade is just that-- a facade. Cue my mind playing with the idea of the two of them spending time together and Kate deciding to test her cousin’s ‘I love women and flirt with and check them out shamelessly’ routine and you get this.

[Is That An Ace Up Your Sleeve? (Ao3 version)]

Bruce was hiding a secret and Kate knew it. True, the two of them weren’t as close as they had been when they were kids, but she still knew her cousin well enough to know when he was lying through his teeth on some things. And his whole playboy act wasn’t cutting it.

So she decided to test it.

Okay, so dragging him out to lunch in a highly populated area-- open air restaurants were a joy and were the only way to pull this off-- was a little underhanded, but compared to some of the things she got up to as Batwoman this was nothing. And if her darling cousin, ‘Brucie’ Wayne, wasn’t going to own up to the fact that he wasn’t sleeping around like it was going out of style-- at least to her anyway-- then she was going to prod at him until he finally said something.

Their conversation had been over relatively mundane things for a while with both of them lazily indulging in familial small talk which neither of them really needed to pay much attention to. (Apparently Dick had gotten into a wrestling match with Jason and managed to somehow temporarily dislocate his own thumb while Jason had face-planted into a couch.) It was as Bruce was clearly about to ramble on about his other kids that Kate subtly jerked her head to motion to a woman across the street.

“Check it out Bruce. A complete 10 at three-o’clock,” she murmured.

Bruce blinked, completely derailed and looking for a moment or two as if he had no idea what Kate was even talking about. When he finally looked it was like the light-bulb went on, if a little dimly. “She’s nice... Not really my type though,” he said quietly.

“What, don’t like redheads?” She teased, prompting him to roll his eyes.

“It’s not that.”

“Mmhm. Alright then, What abooout... Over there? The barista on the corner?”

Bruce took a moment or two to locate who Kate was talking about. “...I’m pretty sure she’s a little young Kate.”

“Wrong. I got coffee from her earlier. She looks like she’s in her 20s from a distance, turns out she’s in her mid-40s and has owned that place for close to 20 years.” Kate took a drink from her water to cover the smirk threatening to creep onto her face.

Bruce looked mildly uncomfortable. “Please tell me you weren’t flirting at her while she was on the job.”

“Me? No. Perish the thought. I’m not dumb enough to trap a woman at work.” She took another solid drink before putting her glass down. “You, however, should go see if you can get her number. I’m 90% certain she’s into men, and you could do worse than to land a nice responsible hottie like that.”

Bruce looked even more uncomfortable, and not a little flustered. “I’m not really looking to hook up with anyone Kate. I’ve got more to worry about than-”

She couldn’t hide the smirk. “No? Bruce Wayne? My supposedly womanizing cousin having no interest in even seeing if he can get a woman’s number? For shame.”

Bruce frowned. “Kate, I’m not just going to wander up to a random woman and ask her out. Especially when I haven’t even talked to her. That’s creepy.”

Kate hummed thoughtfully as she lazily circled on finger on the rim of her glass. “Would you say she’s a 10? I’d say she’s a 10. Maybe... a 10.9.”

“Why?”

Rather than answer, she instead replied, “Or what about the silver fox a few tables down? She’s pretty. Maybe a 9, but she’s got that natural plain beauty going on...”

Bruce facepalmed and grumbled, “I am not having this conversation with you.”

“Is it because ‘all women are beautiful’ Bruce?” she asked in an entirely-too-innocent and chipper tone.

“Please don’t ever use that voice again.”

“Well?”

He gave an aggravated sigh. “Yes. Are you happy now?”

Kate snickered. “Bruce, do us both a favor and stop lying to your damn cousin. You barely even looked at those women and you’re not interested in women.”

“Now wait just a second-” he started.

“Just admit that you’re an ace piece of shit trying to pretend that you have an uncontrollable libido when actually you’ve probably never slept with anyone in your life.”

Bruce stared at her a moment or two. Finally he said, “Remind me again why I stopped having any sort of talks like this with you back when we were teenagers?”

Kate smirked in satisfaction. While he hadn’t said anything close to the words ‘Yes I’m ace now please STOP’ his tone had been more than confirmation enough. “It might have had something to do with the fact that for a while I had my suspicions that you and Harvey might have been an item. Though considering how close the two of you were back then, you can’t exactly blame me.”

“...And you felt the need to drag me out here for this.” They were cousins, they knew each other well, so it was unsurprising that he’d finally caught on.

“Sorry Brucie. You weren’t talking and I didn’t feel like stalking you for a month to get you to tell me something so stupidly basic.”

Another aggravated sigh. “What did I do to deserve having family like this?”

Kate gave him a knowing look and retorted, “You know exactly what our family is like cousin. Even the kids. Consider it... Letting you know when you’re overdoing it.”

[europolarist]

A Hunsford Tale - Chapter 3

Saturday, February 8th, 1812

Looking around the room and finding nothing to help her, Heidi rolled her eyes, reaching for her spoon. She was starving and couldn’t deny that the broth smelled fantastic, hints of onion and herbs filled the air. Already twisting nausea began to spread from the mix of pain killers and an empty stomach.

She did not care what the kitchen looked like as she devoured the simple meal.

In this case, ignorance was bliss.

Twenty minutes passed with no visitors and Heidi grew bored. She was willing to bide her time and find out what was going on. At least, until she knew how badly her knee had been dislocated.

Heidi figured that if this guy was dedicated to his part, he would hear about her ramblings if she went raving to others about being from 206 years in the future.

And in England? How the hell had she managed a time jump and an ocean jump?

It was far more likely that she was in a cabin in the Catskills or Adirondacks and had stumbled on some crazy family or cult. At least they didn’t seem to be the Texas Chainsaw Massacre type of crazy.

Heidi eyed the empty bowl of broth and the breadcrumbs on the tray, a sick feeling taking a chokehold of her stomach.

Was she being brainwashed?

She’d eaten the food too fast to consider it, and who knew what sort of drug cocktail he’d given her while she was unconscious.

Her head swam now that she’d thought about it, trying to figure out the best way to react. She could throw up the food, getting rid of the poison and the medicine that was likely keeping her leg from screaming in pain, then she could attempt to escape, hobbled as she was in the splint.

Or, she could stay put and do as the doctor ordered.

Heidi tapped the toes of her good foot impatiently under the sheets, grateful that the splint prevented the material from rubbing on her swollen knee. It wasn’t as if she could conceivably hop out of the cot and try to escape anyway. For now, better to let the crazy man think she was complying.

Even if there was no help for it, she could come up with a game plan to get her through. If she couldn’t get far on the leg, she would need to watch her food intake, in case it was poisoned, and wait for her leg to heal enough so she could get away.

A week, tops.

She itched for her phone.

Sure, she was in a remote area of the state; but this wasn’t a Steven King novel.

She only wished the screen hadn’t shattered in the crash. It haunted her.

Hell, if she’d only grabbed her ebook reader. At least then she could have connected to the WiFi that was surely keeping employees entertained while on their lunch breaks.

Heidi cursed, glancing down at her leg.

All the technology in the world wouldn’t help her if she couldn’t get to it.

There had to be a computer around here somewhere.

She shifted on the cot hoping to see the telltale white or black plastic of a phone or the sleek silver of a tablet. A few times, she almost jumped with excitement thinking she’d spotted one, only to realize it was a trick of the light.

Her teeth gritted, Heidi clenched her fists. She would have to be patient. Not one of her best qualities.

At least, she thought, allowing herself a small smile, she was persistent. She sighed, trying to dispel the tightness that always overtook her in moments like this.

The truth would come out and she would find her way home.

A few minutes after she’d come to that decision, there was a knock on the door and she called out for whoever it was to come in.

The matron who’d carried in her lunch entered the surgery and held open the door for the doctor’s daughter and a slim blonde woman of middle-age who could only be the doctor’s wife.

“Good afternoon, Miss Meldrum.”

The woman gave her a curtsey upon entering the room and Heidi bowed her head awkwardly, unable to stand to greet them like they were accustomed to. She could, at least, feign being polite until she got away.

The maid gathered the tray from beside the bed and gave a quick bob of a curtsey before leaving the room.

Rose came to the bedside, trying to suss her out without seeming obvious and failing miserably.

“I brought Mother’s favorites.” The girl placed a couple of novels on the edge of the table. The leather- bound books were brand new, the binding almost shiny; but no modern book was made like that anymore.

Now that Heidi had a chance to get a better look, the girl definitely couldn’t be more than fifteen; young but on the cusp of womanhood.

“Thank you, I was beginning to grow bored.”

Rose nodded, trying not to stare at the woman’s strange clothing. “Do you require anything else to eat?”

This close at hand, Heidi got a better look at Rose’s dress, a simple muslin empire-waist gown with a scarf modestly covering her chest.

Heidi shook her head. “I’m not sure I could keep anything else down.”

It was partly the truth: she was queasy and the idea of being poisoned didn’t sit well. At the same time, she was still hungry. A little broth and bread didn’t go far when she hadn’t eaten anything save a peanut butter cup or two since lunch yesterday.

She tried not to dwell on the state of the kitchens if the rest of the place was as ‘authentic’ as the clinic was.

Mrs. Carter was dressed more conservatively, in an older style. It was clear they were trying to emulate the idea that women weren’t on the cutting edge of fashion once they were married and taken care of.

“Are you really French?”

Heidi shook her head before the mother shushed the daughter.

“Rose, behave yourself.”

Rose flushed, tearing her gaze away from Heidi and down at the floor.

“Miss Meldrum, my husband has asked that we provide you with a few things while you’re recovering; but I wished to tend to your needs myself.”

“I understand.” Heidi looked at the two women, trying to appraise the situation.

The woman assessed Heidi in turn. She could see it in the way the stranger leaned back a little, almost as if she wanted to cross her arms.

“Rose, darling, would you give us some privacy?”

The blonde-haired girl frowned at her mother. “I hoped to—“

With one sharp expression from Mrs. Carter, Rose muttered and stuttered an apology, quickly running out of the room without another word.

“Your daughter has spirit.”

Heidi grinned up at Mrs. Carter. Maybe if she played on the woman’s maternal instincts, Mrs. Carter would be quicker to respond to Heidi’s need for proper medical care. It was clear that while she looked meek, the mistress of the house was one to be reckoned with.

“She certainly does.” Mrs. Carter sounded wistful as she turned back.  After a moment, her eyes narrowed, the corners wrinkling faintly. “My husband is a great physician, Miss Meldrum.”

The sudden reproach in Mrs. Carter’s voice was enough to stun Heidi.

“I’m sure he’s a fine healer, ma’am; but—“

“He said you chattered about strange things, almost as if you spoke in tongues. Half the words you uttered seem to have confused him. Talk of seeing bone and traveling at impossible speeds from far off lands.”

Heidi ran her fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck, averting her eyes. She felt guilty but had to protect herself. There was no way she could divulge the truth if she was, impossibly, in another time and place.

“I wish to know from your own lips if it is wise to allow you to remain in our household.”

“I was confused when I woke up,” Heidi confessed, keeping her eyes averted. “I suspect the laudanum had something to do with it. I’ve never had to take such strong medicines before.”

“Do not lie to me, Miss Meldrum.” Mrs. Carter’s hand curled into a fist.

“I swear that I am not.”

“The style of your shoes, the nature of your intimates, the sheer quality of it all appears to indicate that my husband was telling the truth, that you somehow come to us from another time. But do you seriously believe that we, educated as we are, would believe that?”

“Wait, you’ve searched my things?”

Heidi couldn’t help the anger that laced her words at the thought that they’d gone snooping through her bags. She had credit cards in her purse, for Christ’s sake. For all she knew, they’d probably maxed out her credit cards already.

“Not as closely as we should have, letting a complete stranger into our home.”

A strange dread crawled its way up Heidi’s spine.

The woman was serious. Too serious for this to be some sort of tourist trap.

“I am not one of those feeble-minded peasants that tend to believe that witches exist; but there is something strange about you, Miss Meldrum.”

Heidi worried her lip. “About my name—“

Mrs. Carter stopped her with the wave of a hand. “I do not understand why, but my husband insists that we use his cousin’s surname, despite the truth. You will be Miss Meldrum while you remain in his care—“

The woman’s eyes fell on the ring on her hand and Heidi flushed. For a few moments, she’d completely forgotten about it, about him, about her broken heart.

“Unless you are married…” Mrs. Carter’s sentence trailed off, her hands falling to her side.

Her throat was dry; but Heidi managed to speak the words. “Not married. I was engaged though, until last night.”

She moved to pull the ring off her left hand. The diamond on the right was from her mother, an heirloom piece, but the one on the left, which had only yesterday promised a lifelong commitment no longer held any meaning.

Her fingers pulled on the metal once and then twice, slipping both times. The ring was stuck; her fingers had swollen enough overnight to make it impossible to remove.

“Shit.”

Mrs. Carter gasped and Heidi sighed ruefully. She didn’t normally curse in front of strangers, especially in such a professional setting as a doctor’s office, and now she’d done it twice. They couldn’t blame her though, could they? Right now, all she wanted was to get that cursed ring off.

“My apologies, Mrs. Carter. I promised your husband that I would be more careful with my language. ”

The appearance of shock was still patent on Mrs. Carter’s face; but something in her eyes softened. “What happened?”

There was an awkward moment of silence. The last thing Heidi wanted to do was to relive last night, walking in on Peter and the woman. Then again, some sympathy would help her cause.

“Since you are a doctor’s wife, perhaps you will more easily pardon my crude language after I explain.”

Mrs. Carter quirked an eyebrow but took a seat on the edge of the bed, clearly interested in hearing the story.

“I found my betrothed,” she said slowly, using what was hopefully the right wording or at least not scandalous. “in flagrante delicto with another woman.”

Heidi's eyes burned at the memory of Peter scrambling out of the bed, the bunched sheets tangling in his legs, as he tried to close the distance to the door.

“He wasn’t expecting me. I was supposed to begin moving my belongings into his house in a few days, our wedding only a few weeks away." Heidi paused, hoping that Mrs. Carter wouldn’t notice the fudging of the truth. If she was supposed to be pretending to live in the 19th century, she’d need to rework some of the details. It was going to be a lot of work not to upset these people, with their old-fashioned sensibilities.

“The… other woman ran out of the room, into a side chamber and he advanced on me, trying to explain. But how could I stay?” She paused, taking a breath and trying to refrain from crying, but her eyes burned.

"We were supposed to be getting married and yet, his behavior toward other women never changed. He always acted as if he were—“ Heidi paused, trying to find an appropriate word.

“A rake?”

Heidi nodded, continuing along the slightly altered version of the truth, grateful that Mrs. Carter understood. “It was stupid of me to think I could change him. I don’t think I ever thought that I would or could, never intentionally; but love makes fools of us all, I suppose."

She slumped against the pillow.

“I know other women do not mind such things, but I do.”

Mrs. Carter caught Heidi’s attention and though her vision blurred, she could see that the woman was handing her a handkerchief.

The idea of even touching it was repugnant, as the handkerchief was linen and used multiple times a day. But, in the spirit of good will, Heidi reached out for it and dabbed her cheeks dry.

As soon as the woman left her alone, she’d clean her face with the small bottle of hand sanitizer in her purse. She knew it would dry out her skin, but she had it just in case. Heidi much preferred hot water and soap to clean her hands.

“So you were attempting to…” Mrs. Carter paused, gesturing as if searching for the words she wanted to use. “Return to your parents’ home? Where was your Abigail?”

Heidi tried her best not to look like a deer in headlights. Who the hell was Abigail?

“My parents are in Germany, er on the Continent.”

That was not a lie, but she had no idea what Germany was called at this point in history. She was going to need an atlas and hoped her correction was enough.

“You may not approve of this, but I lived alone in an apartment in the city and didn’t think I needed to be accompanied to surprise my betrothed. Manners are different where I come from.”

Mrs. Carter shook her head and clucked. It was almost the same noise Heidi’s grandmother would make when she washed her hands too many times as a kid.

“It was foolish,” Heidi clarified, excusing her behavior.

“How did you arrive at the Browne’s front door? You are related to the family?”

“I –“ Heidi paused, trying to translate what she wanted to say into whatever proper way she could to this out-of-touch woman. “I do not know them at all. My people do not hail from this part of the world.”

It was going to be highly improper for her to say the next bit, but the less people connected to her story, the less chance of them finding out it was lies.

“I fled the city in what you would consider my own carriage.”

Mrs. Carter started, eyes wide, predictably scandalized. She squinted, quizzically.

Heidi prayed that she’d used the right term.

“I should not have been driving through the country in the middle of the night with the roads icy and my eyes filled with tears. I did not even think about the ice and snow. I wanted to go get away from the betrayal.”

Heidi shifted, the pain in her knee returning, and she braced herself against it.

The woman nodded, with earnest belief.

“My carriage wheels hit a patch of ice and I lost control. I crashed into a tree.”

Heidi tried her best not to outright lie, so the woman wouldn’t want more specific details. But this was the best she could come up with on the fly, merging the past with the present.

“With no servant to aid me, I gathered what I could and found my way to the village. I didn’t know where I was, just that I needed help.”

“I imagine so.” Mrs. Carter smoothed her skirts as if readying to stand. “I am impressed you made it this far.”

Heidi nodded. “I was motivated. I didn’t want to freeze.”

Mrs. Carter stood up from the stool. “Are you in need of more medicine?”

She glanced over at the bottles on the table.

“To be perfectly honest, Mrs. Carter, laudanum scares me. My parents have told me stories of people who have become dependent on the medicine. I do not wish the same for myself.”

Though Heidi expected Mrs. Carter to be surprised, her air was one of sympathy – and maybe a touch of sadness. Maybe she’d seen the effects herself.

“Some brandy then?” The woman gave Heidi a grin. “It is not quite so dangerous, I imagine.”

Heidi shook her head. “Not so dangerous. If it helps take the edge off, some brandy would be nice. Though it is early.”

She decided not to mention the fact that taking too many of her own pills so soon would leave her without any backup if she got worse. Better to keep them for later, if she could manage, and take the bulk when she was feeling well enough to hobble out of here on her own power. If the doctor didn’t let her leave tomorrow.

After Mrs. Carter poured Heidi a finger or two of the brandy, Heidi thanked the woman and downed the wickedly strong drink in one shot. She’d been a great fan of alcohol when she’d been younger; it helped her cope. But having watched an uncle descend into alcoholism, Heidi no longer touched the stuff. Now, she much preferred mixers to the actual sting of that particular poison; but the straight alcohol from Mrs. Carter would kill any bugs she might have gotten from the food.

“I have some duties to which I must attend. I will inquire with the blacksmith if he would be willing to venture out along the road to Canterbury. Doctor Carter told me you believe you crashed past midnight. You might have been walking two or three miles. If your carriage hasn’t been raided by highwaymen, Mr. Dowding should be able to collect your other belongings.”

Her stomach flipped at the mention of highwaymen. She reached for the forgotten handkerchief and twisted it in her hand before realizing what she was doing, throwing it out of reach.

“Do you have any appropriate clothing?” The woman glared pointedly at the jeans. Heidi scrambled for an explanation.

“Women wear pants in my time. It is a socially acceptable thing to do.”

“I will see if we can borrow a gown from one of our neighbors. Doctor Carter mentioned you might be healing for a fortnight before we can attempt to return you to the place whence you came.”

Heidi balked. A fortnight, that was two weeks, right? “That’s really not neces—“

“But it is, Miss Meldrum. If you wish to live in this house, you will need to dress appropriately.”

She swallowed back further protest. Best not to get on the woman’s bad side. She sighed, trying to soften her frustration to politeness.

“Mrs. Carter? If you wouldn’t mind, could you bring my things to the bed? I would like to see what I have left. I imagine I lost a few items in the crash."

The woman gave a nod and carried over the last bag.

As Heidi watched, she was reminded of something important.

“Would it be possible for me to see an atlas or a map of the continent? A man such as the doctor would have such books in his library.”

“Why would you require an atlas?”

“Borders change over time. I would like to see what they look like.”

Mrs. Carter frowned, seemingly at the reminder of Heidi’s oddness. After a moment, she nodded. “I will see what I can do.”

Heidi thanked the woman, giving her a smile. She didn’t mention that her carriage would be a twisted pile of metal and glass and that she’d be lucky to find it since Heidi had only barely wandered onto the dirt road when she found some civilization in a world that was definitely not her own.