#and i'd like to go climbing but they don't open until 12 and i have family obligations at 3 so idk.

[wildwood-faun]

r e s t l e s s

[batsplat]

Wait what’s the tea on Valentino’s sleep patterns 👀👀 (fellow insomniac / recent motogp fan always looking for more representation)

oh yeah, if you're looking for representation for poor sleeping habits you've very much come to the right place. his sleep patterns are pretty remarkable you have to say. way too nocturnal for a professional athlete, reliant on naps to get through the race weekend, all power to him for somehow making that work and winning all those titles. pretty sure I've read somewhere that he's still known for doing sim races at ungodly hours these days, just how he lives his life

tbh I can't remember off the top of my head where I'd actually read about his sleeping patterns, but I've cobbled together a decent selection of quotes from the usual sources. the most interesting stuff he's said on the topic is in his autobiography - where he goes into rather a lot of detail about his preference for the night. given that it's quite a lengthy passage, I've chucked it under the cut. he frames his nocturnal inclination as not only suiting his natural body clock better, but also as a way of escaping the rest of the world - of being able to move around in peace and silence and anonymity. plus, he liked to spend his nights in the garage to... *pinches bridge of nose* have some special personal time with his bike, when it was just the two of them. take that as you will

before that, let's just start with a few more general descriptions of his sleeping patterns. from early in his career, jerez 1998 (from oxley's vr files):

The camper only holds two people, but that's okay. I don't like my dad to sleep with me, because when it gets to ten o'clock he starts saying: "Vale, Vale, got to bed!", but I can't go to sleep before one or two. We did share a motorhome in '96 and it made life very, very difficult for me.

and about brno 1999 (from oxley's vr files):

On weekends when I'm not racing, I never go to bed before six or seven on Sunday morning. If it's a party, maybe even later, but going to bed at six in the morning is quite normal for me! Even when I was 14 I used to go to bed at 4am. Quite often I'd be riding around the local minimoto tracks until after midnight! If I go to sleep at 11 or 12 I just lie there, my eyes wide open. Maybe I would be good for 24-hour racing!

and then a few years into his premier class career, valentino says the following (x):

'I have a lot of energy after 2am,' Rossi agreed. 'I like to sleep in the morning. I have some problems at the start of the day.'

we've also got a description of crew chief jb's influence in terms of making sure valentino wasn't slacking off by sleeping in (from oxley's vr files):

Burgess' talents aren't restricted to getting the best out of a 500. The Aussie has been in GPs for decades and knows how to extract the best from riders as well. He expects 100 per cent commitment both on the track and in the pits, and when he doesn't get that, he gives 'em hell. Some other crew chiefs won't do that - they're too overawed by their riders' superstardom. JB laid down the law last summer when late-sleeper Rossi turned up late for practice. Rossi suggested that in future one of the crew should be despatched to his motorhome each morning to make sure he was out of bed. No way, said Burgess, I'll be there to give you your wake-up call. Rossi's not overslept since.

and from 2001, in valentino's own words:

Q: Tell us about your sleeping habits, JB has had to wake you a few times for practice... VR: I never go to bed before 1 o'clock, and there's no limit on when I go to bed, but even when I go to sleep very late I always wake up at 8.30, though when I do wake up I always have a big confusion for the first five minutes, then after that I remember: "Oh fuck, I'm at world grand prix!" So I have a shower and then I'm okay. I never get up too close to riding time because the 500 is a dangerous bike so it's necessary to be awake when you climb aboard. Back in the afternoon after practice at four or five o'clock I'll sleep for another hour.

only semi-related but valentino's also talked about... you know, this generational shift - where the sport has become more professionalised, which is reflected in certain lifestyle changes (from barker's rossi biography):

"The next generation is always stronger. They are more professional, they put more effort in, they make a perfect life, they eat in a good way, they don't drink, they go to sleep early, they train every day from the morning to the night... I come from an era where the riders drank beer and smoked cigarettes!"

also plenty of talk of jet lag obviously... doesn't struggle with it too much headed westwards because he says he basically lives on american time anyway. the other direction is tougher, but in his youth he decided that he might as well try to continue living on italian time. so he essentially went racing at 5 in the morning (about phillip island 1998, from oxley's vr files):

I don't have a problem with jet lag, I always sleep. Last year in Indonesia I stayed on Italian time for the whole grand prix - so I was racing at five in the morning! But the difference is too great to do that in Australia.

how on earth are you racing motorcycles like that. mind you, he won that 1997 indonesia race

so yeah. king of disordered sleeping. given the nature of motogp schedules and how they do kind of require you to actually get up in the mornings, congrats to him for being remotely functional during race weekends. crazy how he even won the odd race

and here's the autobiography passage:

My day, usually, begins in the afternoon. It’s as if I exist inside my own personal time zone. I live at night, because I love the night. Now, this might make you think I do goodness-knows-what in the wee hours, or that I don’t live the life of a professional athlete. It’s true, I don’t live the life of an athlete in the traditional sense — early to bed, early to rise and all that — but this does not mean that I’m not careful about what I eat and drink or that I don’t train. In fact, I train a lot, both in the gym and on the bike. It’s just that I go to the gym in the afternoon, rather than the morning. Equally, when I’m training on the bike, down at the quarry, I always go in the afternoon, never at nine o'clock in the morning. My body has a certain type of metabolism. It is used to living according to a different body clock. That’s why, even if I’m travelling all over the world, I don’t experience jet lag and I rarely go to bed before 3 a.m. It’s much more likely that I’m just tucking into bed as people are leaving for work. As I say, I have a special relationship with the night. I like moving in it, living in it, thinking in it, relaxing in it. The night fascinates me, because it’s the period of least confusion. The world calms down, it goes quiet. And, besides, I’m Valentino Rossi. I’m wanted... I'm a fugitive. Yes, I’m always running away from my _ beloved countrymen. The Italians. I’m proud to be Italian, I'm proud of our merits and I regret our shortcomings. Italians are exceptional people. In every way. Even when they start loving you. Because that’s actually when problems can arise — if it’s you that the Italian falls in love with. Italian people are warm, empathetic, spontaneous. But they can also be excessive, oppressive and disrespectful. I don’t know who said that Italians will forgive everything except for success. Whoever it was, they were right. Because it’s absolutely true. After the 1997 season, I could tell I was becoming popular. Year after year, that popularity turned into fully fledged love. They’re in love with me now and, as a result, since the 2004 season, I’ve been a man on the run. And there’s no escape, no end in sight, because wherever I go they find me. There are simple things, the little pleasures in life, which I simply can’t engage in when I’m back in Italy. I can’t go to the bar and have a cappuccino, because I would not be able to drink it. To be fair, I can do it in Tavullia, but that's the only place. If I go more than a few kilometres in any direction from the centre of town, that's it, everything changes and I become, once again, a hunted man. I can’t walk into a store, look at something and decide what I want to buy. In fact, I can’t stop anywhere, not even at a petrol station. If I stop, I’m screwed. Somebody will recognise me (Italians are exceptionally good at recognising people), make a lot of noise, call other people and then, before I know it, I’ve been swallowed up by the crowd. If I schedule a meeting with someone, we have to meet in a secret, out-of-the-way location and, even then, we can't linger. I can't go to a restaurant if there are too many people inside. And if I do go, I can't go at a normal time, say eight o'clock. I have to go later, much later, when people are leaving. And I can't sit where I like, I have to hide away in a corner, in the shadows. As for places like cinemas or the beach, forget about it. They are just always off-limits.

Having said that, I do mix with people. I do it because I like doing it. It’s just that I wish I could do it as a normal person, because, deep down, I am a normal human being. This is part of the reason why I have to live at night. It would be that much tougher during the day, with all those people about. Plus, I don’t like the traffic, the chaos, the noise, all those people running all over the place, stressed out and out of breath. The night is different. Everything is softer, there are fewer people around and you are much more free. It’s like a parallel dimension. The world is different at night. Everything is different. That’s why I’ve assimilated the lyrics of a song by the Italian artist Jovanotti, “Gente. della notte” (“People of the night”). It has become my personal anthem. Jovanotti is one of my favourite singers and I find myself agreeing with him on most things. I love his work. What else can I say? The night is my reality. And I don’t change just because Grands Prix are scheduled during the day. My way of being and living is reflected in what I do during races. I don’t really change. Obviously, I don’t go to bed at dawn, but let’s just say that when I do, finally, go to bed, there aren’t many people around. Everything is better at night in the paddock. There is silence, the people _ have disappeared and, with them, the chaos. I can wander around freely, most of all I can enjoy the empty pit area and my bike. Yes, my bike. Because at night I often slip into the team garage. At some races I do it every single night, because I love being with my bike. My night-time activities can be traced back to the years racing in 125cc, and are directly tied to my passion for aesthetics and the stickers, which would later become my obsession. I don’t leave anything to chance'when it comes to choosing the colour or the stickers for my bike. That’s why I’ve always been central to any and all discussions when we were deciding the aesthetics of my racing bikes. I’ve done it always, with every bike, at every level, with every team. And, naturally, I still do it today. Nobody has ever been allowed to attach a single sticker to my bike, unless it was the logo of a technical sponsor. Until a few years ago I was totally inflexible about this. Now, Roby takes care of the number: he attaches it because then he needs to cover it in transparent paint. But apart - from -this, which is primarily a technical procedure anyway, I take care of everything else to do with the stickers. And this takes time and planning, which is why I started going to the garage at night. During the day it is packed with people. There are mechanics, technicians and others around. I would just get in the way, if I wanted to get near the bike just to check the stickers. As I got older and progressed from 125 to 250 and then to 500 and on to MotoGP, I maintained that passion for aesthetics and stickers, as well as the habit of dropping in on the team garage at night. I enjoy the bike during the day _ obviously, but my relationship with the bike is so special that I can spend hours with it, just looking and admiring it, making sure that everything is in order. Those are very personal moments which I find difficult to describe. The Japanese guys, both the executives but also the engineers never knew this, not the guys at Honda, not the ones at Yamaha. I don’t think they would really understand. They would probably view it as a waste of time, since I don’t actually do anything concrete. I never touch anything to do with the bike itself, beyond, obviously, the stickers. And yet I find it hard to explain to an engineer that I enjoy simply being near the bike, even when I’m not doing anything. It’s a complicated concept to explain: the risk is that people will think that you're crazy.

During the day everything happens so quickly, frenetically, neurotically. However, there is a sacrosanct moment when I need to step away and isolate myself. Once my commitment to the team is over, usually around 5.30 p.m., I retire to my motorhome, relax and take a nap. It usually lasts a couple hours and then I go out. There’s always something to do after dinner. Of course, the range of options depends on how many friends are around. I really start enjoying the paddock around ten o'clock at night. Before going to sleep I check on the bike again and then I go into the team motorhome, which serves as an office. Now that I’m at Yamaha, I have an office all to myself. That’s where I keep all my race gear. I do this for two reasons. My own personal motorhome is an absolute mess, nothing more fits in there and I probably couldn’t find anything amid all the junk. Plus, the office is where I change into my racing suit before going out on to the track. Thus, at night, after going to the pits to see the bike, I go to make sure that all my stuff is where it should be: gloves, suit, socks, boots . . . everything needs to be perfect, because I just don’t have time in the morning to hunt around for stuff. Thus, each morning I have to follow a very precise routine. I’m like a robot, everything is the same each day. Because the truth is that I need to be like clockwork. I just don’t have the time to think. Somebody generally comes to wake me up — usually it’s Jeremy, because he doesn’t trust my ability to wake up on my own! I then get up, wash my face (my eyes are still shut at this point) and try to stay awake as I ride the scooter from the motorhome to the pits. I then go up to the office and get dressed. There too everything is done mechanically. It takes the slightest hiccup to throw everything off, forcing me to be late to the testing.

"I find it hard to explain to an engineer that I enjoy simply being near the bike, even when I’m not doing anything. it’s a complicated concept to explain: the risk is that people will think that you're crazy" well -

[heartfullofleeches]

Practice

College Yan + Older Neighbor Reader [M + G.N]

Summary: A friend requests a favor from you after a rough night

Warning: Legal age gap, mentions of alcohol and drugs, emotional manipulation, groping

-

12 missed calls....

"..Hey, Y/n. Just realized you're probably still at work right now....l I just wanted to say thanks for everything. Without you - I don't think I'd be out here tonight.."

"Y/n - hey! Oh... just missed you I guess. I just arrived, and... honestly I'm really nervous. There's more people than I thought there'd be and I don't know anyone. You mind if I call again? Even if you don't answer - it's nice not being alone."

"Y/n... things are going pretty good so far. Someone just came up to me and handed me a cup. I've never drank before, but I have too many regrets already to have another. This goes out to you."

"Are you afraid of dying alone?.... it never crossed my mind until my grandad died a few years back. Nobody liked the guy so he just.... wasted away alone in his house. I don't want that to happen to me. I wish you were here."

"Y/n?.... fuck... please don't listen to that last message. Can you come pick me up? I sent the address to you earlier, but I forgot to tell you. I think I drank too much and I know it's late but... fuck."

"You're coming to pick me up...aren't you? You wouldn't leave me behind like everyone has... I'm so happy I-"

Message Saved.

You didn't need to hear the rest. Teddi was the sweetest guy you've met in recent years. A little rough around the edges, sure, but it's a given with everything he's been through. Once you cracked that shell, he revealed that dorky, loveable self of his who still cried when animals died in movies yet gushed for hours about his fascination with horror media as a whole. You thought you were doing the right thing by trying to get him out of his comfort zone - keep him from turning out like you.

Breathing through your teeth, you toss your phone into the passenger seat as you exit the vehicle. Beer glasses and someone's glasses left out in the field crunch beneath your feet as you cross the lawn up to the house and adjacent door. Poking your head through the crack; a sea of young adults and their peers overcrowd the living space - egging each other into boisterous acts and having the time of their new lives. Realistically you couldn't be a few years older than the older face in the crowd, but this wasn't your click. You walk up to the nearest, unattended person and tap them on the shoulder.

"Excuse me, looking for someone. Thick glasses, nose ring, blue...ish hair? Should've brought my phone out-"

"Oh!! You must be Ted's partner. Y/n - right?."

"We aren't dating. I'm their neighbor."

"My bad - he's just been talking about you all night so I thought - anyway, he's up on the roof. Said he needed the fresh air. Just head upstairs, the ladder to the attic should be right there.

"Alright. Thanks." You push past them and up the stairs - bracing your foot on the ladder rails that creek under your weight as you climb up into the attic. The room is foggy, musty fog filtered out the open door leading to the patio. You reject an offer for its source as politely as you could as you brush by the individuals occupying the space, pulling your shirt over your nose as you step out into the chilly night. Laying on a blanket made of someone else's coat, Teddi sits beneath the stars wearing the jacket you lent him about a week ago. He takes the blunt offered by a peer, breaking off its tip as he pulls it to his lips. You knock on the door frame twice - smoke violent exhausted from his nose and lungs as he turns around to see you.

"Y/n." Teddi staggers to his feet, legs tangled in his makeshift blanket as he trips and stumbles his way towards you. He sports a dopey grin, fixing your jacket to his shoulder. "Hey, we were just talking about you - this is.. uh.." He snapped his fingers. "Fuck."

"Trudy."

"Trudy! Right, haha - they're great, but not as great as you."

"That's great." You wrap an arm around their shoulder, turning them towards the door. "We're leaving."

Teddi slurs out a whine, leaning back - trying to pull you with him. "What? But you just got here. I wanna introduce you to everyone first."

"Maybe later. I need to get you home." Your right hand finds the small of his back, locking around his waist. "Car - now."

His pink face flushes further. "Okay...."

-

Loading Teddi into the car, his head slumps against the passenger window as you shut the door. The ride home is mostly quiet - his hand glued to your lap no matter how many times you nudge him away. His head rolls over to your shoulder and the alcohol on his breath fans your face as he speaks.

"Do you think somebody will ever love me, Y/n?"

"Why are you asking me?"

"I meant someone tonight."

He studies your face. No twinge of jealousy or sadness. You almost looked relieved. He swallows, buring the ache as he continues. "I meant someone and.... I know they're way out of my league. Kind....smart....when they smile it's like the whole room lights up. We hadn't known each other for long, but they've always been there and... I can't imagine life without them now that they're here. Despite our differences I know we are meant for each other."

You ease your foot off the gas. "....Ted. You're a good kid. If I had known a guy like you back when I was your age I would have loved to get to know him."

Teddi sits upright, looking down as he rubs his face. "Quit talking like you're so much older than me..."

"We're here."

Teddi glances outside. Always when he works up the courage to talk to you.. You park outside your house and round the car to help him get to his. Teddi clutches your arm as you face his yard.

"Please don't make me go home tonight, Y/n."

His nails dig into your shirt. "Please."

You sigh. Helping him up the driveway and into your home, you guide Teddi into your bedroom- afraid of what's happen if you give him the couch. Teddi relaxes as you cross the threshold into your living room. The familiarity of your home, just the two of you in this vast space - he wouldn't give it up for anything. The lingering stress melts from his face as you lower him into your bed, resting on the pillow you lay your head on every night. You set his glasses on the dresser and bring him a glass of water - wishing him good night as you turn off the lights. Hovering over the bed, he grabs your wrist as you turn to leave.

"Y/n..... please stay with me tonight."

He brings a hand up to your face, stroking your jaw as he pulls you closer. "Kiss me, Y/n."

".... how much did you drink, Teddi."

"Alot, but - I need you... to help me I mean. I've never kissed anyone before, and I need the practice if I'm ever going to tell them how I feel. You're the only person I can turn to for this. You promised that you would always be there for me."

You knew that would come back to haunt eventually. "Ted, when I said I'd help you with anything, I meant like teaching you how to do your taxes or change a tire. This isn't something we should be doing."

His cheek presses against your neck, fresh tears staining your skin. "We can forget about it in the morning.... They're all I have. You're all I have... Please don't leave me too."

"....show me."

"Huh?"

"How you would confess. Show me."

You sit on the edge of the bed. Teddi props back against the frame, tucking his hair behind one ear and fixing his shirt. He chews on his bottom lip - the moonlight reflecting off your skin basking you in that heavenly shine he always saw. He looks down. "I'm gonna use your name just to make it easier - okay?"

Teddi takes a deep breath. "Y/n - you... you're the most amazing person I've ever met. When I'm with you, it's like opening my eyes for the first time. You're someone I know I can trust through thick and thin... you've always been there for me, and I want to be here for you... forever."

He scoots closer, placing a hand on your lap as he cups your cheek - leaning in til his forehead rests against yours. "I like you...I love you. Please, stay with me."

Teddi slowly closes the distance; fingers restricted round your thigh as his lips fall flush against yours. It feels like a crime - your soft skin beneath his chapped, bitten lips. He presses deeper, engraving every each of you into his memory and being that his mind would allow. His tongue ghosts your lower lip, snaking against your teeth. His hand clasps the base of your neck as he adds his weight to your chest, pulling you up on the bed as he brings your hanging leg up to his side.

"y/n....."

He cards his fingers through at your hair - the taste of whiskey and desperation hot on your tongue as you wince from the abrupt tug at the back of your skull. The depth of your mouth is more indicating than any substance he had all night. His fingers sink into the flesh of your leg, working towards the curve of your ass as a moan vibrates through your teeth centered from throaty whine he makes as they close around his tongue. His lip ram yours as he tilts his head for a better angle with enough force to bruise, and by god he hopes it does. Biting down doesn't stop his tongue from barreling down your throat - ball piercing sucked to the roof of your mouth. He gives pause only when he finally accepts the stars dancing in view are from the lack of oxygen rather the magic of the eve- falling to your chest with a few links and kisses between greedy intakes of air and your scent. He giggles, hiccuping as his arms shoot around your waist.

"My first kiss...... I made sure to tear off the end when I smoked with that girl so I wouldn't lose it even indirectly. Was I your first too? Can you by my first in other ways too?"

You pull from under him as he nips at your shoulder. "You're not into Trudy?"

"Trudy?" The name rolls off his tongue with such disgust and confusion. "Heck no. The person I like is so much more special than her. I'm lucky to even be in their presence. I wanna give them the world. My heart. I love you.... them- so much."

You fall silent as he nuzzles his face against your torso, eyes growing heavy. "It's late, Teddi. Go to bed."

"Will you sleep with me?.... Stay with me until the morning?..."

".....Always."

Teddi cuddles up to your side as you join him in bed - fighting exhaustion to treasure your sleeping face beside him.

[impala-dreamer]

So, yesterday... I died (almost)

No, seriously.

I've been powerwashing the house... back patio/back deck/sidewalk, etc... yesterday, I wanted to move the machine upstairs to my side deck where the birds hang out. I move the machine to the front of the house, and some of the hose was wrapped around a shrubbery... so I go to untangle it...

And was instantly stung by a bee.

Ok... no biggie.

Then another. Then one on my forehead... then I was swamped by the entire nest. And stung by like 12 bees.

....

I'm not allergic so I'm not worried, just pissed. I run inside, take my shirt off, deal with the bees and take stock. I'm OK, but lemme go take a benadryl anyway. I have one on my nightstand. I go get it and take it to the bathroom bc I'm gonna shower anyway, so I turn on the water and try to open the blister pack of benadryl. My hands start shaking and I can't open it. No way will it open. I start getting dizzy like I'm going to faint (I have a fainting condition so I know the early signs) so I'm like.. ok... if you're gonna have to sit down. And the shower has a seat. So I strip and go into the shower, sit down.

Normally, cold water stops the fainting so I'm like... this is a good idea.

It didn't help. Ok. I'm gonna faint, go lower. So I sat on the shower floor and I'm in the water and

Passed out.

Woke up disoriented, still in the shower. Ok. Get up.

Passed out.

Again. Get up and get out of the shower.

This went on for apparently, 35 mins of me losing consciousness and trying to climb out of the shower to call for help.

Finally, my brain is like.. if you don't get out of the shower you are dying here. So I'm talking outloud to myself as I crawl out of the shower unable to stand or really move my legs. (Btw.. 5 inch shower ledge to crawl over) I somehow get out, slide the phone off the counter, and text my brother 911. (Hubby at work). Then, I lay down kinda twisted on the floor like a chalk outline and keep talking to myself.

Bro comes in... freaks out...

Then the next 40mins are a blurr, but the cops came... 2 shots of epipen, and oxygen before the ambulance got there.

Another shot of epi, a shot of benadryl, another tank of oxygen...

My BP was 57/14.

They couldn't let me sit up even or I'd instantly pass out. Not that I could move.

So they carried me on some sheet thing out of the house, downstairs, into ambulance.

Apparently there were 4 cop cars and 3 ambulances on my lawn...

They got me in and couldn't start driving until they stabilized me..

I started major convulsing bc of all the adrenaline. Like full seizure shaking bad. They couldn't find any veins on me bc small veins and BP deathly low... so we were on my lawn for a while trying to get me ok enough to move.

Finally, I joked "you want me to drive?" Proving that my comedy is pure and part of me, even while on my literal deathbed. ;)

So we got me another shot of benadryl and a shot of steriods...

Drove 20 mins to the closest hospital ... bc I live in the middle of nowhere...

Guy calls in "critical incoming"... which is never great to hear.

We pull in and the hospital guys meeting us looks at me and says "you officially have the lowest blood pressure I have ever heard of on a living person."

Gee thanks! Let's fix this!

So I spent the next 5? Hours in the e.r. critical section hooked up to wires and ivs and ekgs and oxygen.

In the end I had 3 shots of epipen. 3 benadryl shots. Steroids. 2 bags of fluid. 4 panic attacks. 3 tanks of oxygen.

And a hospital turkey sandwich.

So... yeah, if I hadn't talked myself out of the shower with the dregs of my strength and will to not die naked on my shower floor...

I'd be dead.

I'm feeling a ton better today but still not good. I am on the couch and not gonna move.

Also having some theological thoughts about the lack of diving intervention or feeling of godly care.

Basically, my life was saved by myself, my brother, that cop, and Madision and John, my e.m.t.s.

Hope you are all doing better than I am lol

Happy Sunday 💖

[theaawalker]

Delusional | Lex Luthor x Fem!OC [1-Shot]

Pairing: Lex Luthor x Rose Holloway Song Inspo: Delusional by Simon Curtis Word Count: 2,433 Summary: desperate to get out under her tyrannic mother's corporative thumb, executive secretary Rose Holloway submits an application for an opening at LexCorp. Much to her surprise, she is asked to interview the next week. The pay is pretty good, and this Lex guy couldn't be as awful as her mother. What could go wrong? Warnings: mild mentions of parental abuse Masterlist: see fandoms (pc-friendly)

Last thing I remember from my dream was having to tell my angry mother the news about my job. That was enough to get me awake. I scrambled around in my covers and opened my eyes, squirting as the light from the curtains hit my face. At first, I just closed my eyes to block them from the sunlight. But then I realized it was morning, and I forgot to set my alarm last night! I was going to be late on the first day!

I pushed my covers off my body and climbed out of bed, ignoring my slippers that awaited my feet. I looked at my alarm clock, and, as if taunting me, it read 12:21 PM. I grabbed my already ready work attire and took a quick shower. I put on my clothes, did my hair, applied some makeup (not too much, because I don't wanna look as desperate as I was), and brushed my teeth. Into my mall closet I went, searching for some shoes to go with my outfit.

I did my best to fix myself a nutritious breakfast. Nutty bars seemed like the way to go, but they get stuck in my teeth. The last thing I wanted was to be humiliated on my first day - I hadn't felt like that since high school. I managed to make due with a glass of orange juice; just when I put the cold glass to my mouth, a car honked outside. I groaned to myself, knowing who it was, "Mom."

Rushing out the house, I barely remembered to lock the door. I hadn't told my mom about my application for LexCorp, so I knew she was gonna drive to her building instead. That meant I had to somehow sneak past her and make it to LexCorp in time. It's not that far... I hope. 

I swung my business bag around my shoulder and got to the car. Only it wasn't my mom's car. It was... nicer and more modern. The windows were tented so I had no idea who was inside. I didn't know what to do, so I sorta stepped back. The window suddenly rolled down, revealing a face I had known for my whole life.

"Mary!" I squealed with delight, and relief.

"Get in." She ordered. "Or you're gonna be late." I had told her about my application. Well, I told her not to tell our mom about the application. "I can't thank you enough, Mare Bear." I said as I hopped into the nice vehicle. Mary looked at me as she took the wheel.

"You can start by not calling me Mare Bear, Nose." I had to smile at that. She and I call each other cute names sometimes. She calls me nose because, apart from my lips, my nose is my most dominant feature.

"Hang on, little sister." She said, pulling out of my driveway. "LexCorp, here we come."

(Time Skip - At LexCorp Parking)

Butterflies fluttered in my thin stomach as we approached my future workplace. It was so weird; seeing it on the computer was one thing, but being there was another. The building looked so full of purity, energy, and technology. I started to wonder if I could really help improve it. I mean, I wasn't anything more than a secretary of a fashion magazine editor. Also, I had no idea if they'd even accept me. I knew that my mom would hire me because she knew me, but this Lex Luthor probably didn't even know I existed until last week.

"Well, here we are. LexCorp Industries." Mary gave an introduction. I released the sigh I'd been holding in since we pulled up. "Aren't you going in, or...?"

"What if I'm not good enough, Mary?" I blurted out my worry. Mary gave me an eye roll and held my shoulder. "Look. These guys may have worked here longer than you but that doesn't make them better. For all you know, by this time tomorrow you could be doing all their jobs. Besides, any treatment you get is better than mom's." She had such a good point. It was either this or back to being paid to be yelled at by your mom. 

"Okay," I finally said, "I'll-I'll do it." She gave me a nod, and I nodded in returned. We leaned in for a hug, and she wished me luck one last time. I bet was gonna need it. I can't focus when I'm nervous, and when I can't focus I screw things up. But there was no way I was spending another day at that fashion hell. So I picked my bag up and got out of the car. 

Mary waved at me as she drove off. I waited until she was out of sight, and slowly spun around to face the building again. It looked so massive and complex. This may sound weird, but it kind of terrified me. I shook if out though, and marched toward it with a high head.

Inside was not much different than the outside. People were scattered everywhere, and they all looked worthy of being there. One lady walked past me wearing all black with the coolest haircut. I touched my rough, brown hair to find it a plain straight. I never thought I'd say this but I wish I had a rubber band right about now. The place wasn't crowded, but it was far from being empty. 

I looked around for any clue to where Lex's office was. I had an interview with him in ten minutes and I couldn't even find him. I decided to ask one of the employees. I walked further into the work hall until I saw something out of the ordinary. There, in the middle of the room, about six men were playing basketball. I tried to process an excuse for what I was seeing. 'Maybe they're testing their body maneuvers for a video game?' was all I could think of.

Basketball or not, they didn't look as intimidating as everyone else. So I walked up to the court and tapped on the shoulder of closest one, who appeared to be in the middle of shooting.

I cleared my throat.

"Excuse me." He turned and smiled at me. He had strawberry-blonde locks that curled by his jawline. His eyes were blue and playful, and reminded me of two blue balls. He was shorter than me, but only by about an inch. "Sorry to interrupt your game, but I was wondering if you knew where Lex Luthor's office is." He gave me and odd smile.

"Hm. You must my new secretary. How are you? Lex Luthor. Welcome to my little LexCorp." The man held out his hand to me. I looked at it, and, ever so hesitantly, shook it.

Raising an eyebrow, I asked. "You're Lex Luthor?" He odd smile turned into a cheeky one as he giggled.

"Indeed I am. Alexander Luthor Jr., in your presence." He said, slight bowing his head. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't confused. He looked so young, way too young to be running a business. "I'm sorry, I'm confused. You look so..."

"Young? Well..." he turned away for a second to throw the through the hoop. "Age is just a number, correct? And there are infinite numbers to compare to mine, so there's no use in trying to be any other."

I just looked from him to the net and swallowed. "I guess that sounds right." 

"Great! Hm. Yes, yes. You are here for the job." He said, eyes darting down in remembrance. "Executive secretary if I recall." Before I knew it he had his hand on my shoulder blade, and we began walking down the hall to I-have-no-idea-where. But I simply nodded and played along.

"Um, yeah. I used to work as one at my old job."

"Old job, mm? Might I ask where?" I didn't bother looking at him to answer, I just kept my head forward. And judging by my sight, we were headed for an escalator. "Nowhere special. Just a stupid fashion magazine corporation." I scratched my forehead as we boarded the escalator. I let Lex go first, being as though I had no idea where to go beyond the escalator.  The rising staircase made my body feel like it was lifting by itself.

"I see," Lex said. "That explains your chose of clothing décor. Anyway, tell me- Wait! Silly me. I forgot to request your name." He addressed, stepping off his step and placing his foot on the smooth, white tile floor. I copied his movement and we returned to our original pace.

The hallway was all white, and filled with white doors. Any one of those could be mine. All I had to do was get an interview with Lex. First, we had to get to his office.

"My name's Rose. Rose Lee Holloway." I offered a kind smile, one which was returned.

"Rose. Hm." His eyes darted up in thought. "The Latin origin of rose, a flower name from Rosa." He looked back at me. "Did you know the Normans brought Latin to Britain in the 11th century?"

I shook my head. Lex just put his hands in his pockets and stared ahead. "Are you interested in alien studies and research?"

"Um, no. Only what I read on the news about Superman. But do find the fact that one is living here funny."

This made Lex chuckle. "How do you mean?"

"I mean, an alien protecting a species that's not his own just makes us look inferior. Why should we rely on a humanoid destructor rather than weapons of defense? It just sounds dumb."

Lex snapped his finger and pointed at me. "Exactly, Rosie. May I call you Rosie?" 'If I get this job he can call me anything he wants.' I thought.

But I simply replied, "If you want."

We reached the end of the hallway, where, to our right, sat a giant silver door.

"Follow me." Lex led us down the pathway and opened the giant door for me. "In you go." I slipped past him and almost tripped when I saw Lex's office. That place was like two master bedrooms in one giant space. There were chairs in there I've never seen in my life! And that's saying something since my mom used redecorated our living room almost every year.

I was so in shock that I didn't even notice Lex walk past me to his desk chair. I strolled to the front of his desk and sat in small chair, where Lex was seated on the table. He grinned at me, making me even more nervous. We both knew what was about to happen.

"Humor me. What got you interested in this position?"

"I've had previous experience with executive assistance, such as memoing, filing, answering phone calls, and prepping schedules. I also dabble in digital art, so if you need any promo or posters, well, I'm your gal." I chuckled nervously, and he just stroked his chin. "Ahem. I admire what this company has done for the ecosystem repair in other countries. Between partnering with other green companies and philanthropy fundraisers, it- you have really great work." Then it got quiet. "...yeah."

Lex leaned forward, knuckling his silvery desk's edge, and looked into my soul. He studied every inch of my face, my eyes... my soul. It was like he was trying to read my mind. When he got his answer, he exhaled.

"Hm." His lips twitched. "Hm-mm, yes. You have the gaze of a woman on the run." Lex said softly, almost sorrowful, like a therapist. "A lioness, mm, trying to strike out of the pride, make it on her own. Tell me, dear Rosie, who-oh-who are you running from?"

My head drew back and I nearly gulped. Was this man actually telepathic? Either way, he seemed to have me figured out. There was no use in denying it further. If honesty got me a job, then honesty it'll be. I just wish it wasn't such a sore subject.

"My mother." My tongue suddenly tasted foul and acidic. "She's not a very nice mother. Or boss."

"Mommy issues," Lex gestured to me, "meet daddy issues," he gestured to himself, making us both chuckle weakly. I supposed it made sense, hurt child meets hurt child. I wondered to what extend his father hurt him, but put off the question as taboo for an interview.

"Anyhow," he leaned back and continued, "mind if I ask you some professional questions?" He asked, making a yuck face as the word 'professional'.

"Yes, go ahead." I straightened my posture.

"Alrighty. How did you like the building so far?" That was not the question I expected him to ask first, but it was his company. 'Get hired, Rose, get hired.' I cheered myself on.

"Ummm... It's very detailed and finely organized, Mr. Luthor. It's techy but also really chill. Just feels like a good environment people-wise." If my resume didn't cut it maybe sucking up to him would. But he just waved it off.

"Please, call me Lex. It's only fair since I'm calling you Rosie." He had a point. "But does it look like the kind of place you want to work at?"

I looked around the spacious, flawless, white room and sighed. Such a long way from that undersized, secretary desk my mom forced me in.

My pitiful eyes found Lex again. "Very much."

Out of nowhere, Lex suddenly clapped near my face. "Fantastic! Then congratulations, Ms. Rosie. You're hired!" I had to clear my ears to make sure I heard him right.

"Wait, what? I'm hired?" He just nodded like an excited child. "But what about the interview?" I asked, still not understanding his reasons behind hiring me. He bent from his spot on the table to open up a drawer beside his legs.

"That was the interview, my dear Rosie. It began from I first introduced myself." He then pulled something out of the drawer; a red cylinder candy, and offered it to me. "Jolly Rancher?" I gave a clearly puzzled look, raising my eyebrow. "It's cherry." He offered again. 

With nothing to lose except my job there, I accepted.

"Okay." I smiled tightly.

But instead of handing it to me, Lex leaned in to put it in my mouth himself. For a second, I felt his cold, steel fingers brush on the tip of my lips before departing. Then he licked those fingers and smiled from ear to ear like nothing happened.

Being the kind person I am, I gave the smile back. He might have been a bit odd, but I had a feeling Lex was gonna grow on me.

#lex luthor#dc#bvs#imagine#imagines#DC imagines#dc imagine#lex luthor imagine#lex luthor x reader#lex x reader#lex imagine#bvs imagine#batman vs superman#reader insert#reader#xreader#fandom#multifandom#request

[albonoooo]

got tagged by @wanderingblindly, thank you my beloved <3

what colour are your eyes?: a mixture of blue, green and grey that looks puddle-coloured most of the time.

tell me about your pets/your dream pet: after 15 wonderful years, our family dog paul (i named him that when i was five lol) unfortunately passed away in august 2023, i loved that dog more than most people. (there were some pictures of him here, but i got nervous that someone i know might see this so i removed them lmao). i'd love to get a dog or a cat at some point later in my life, but not now or any time soon.

share some interesting fact about yourself: i'm genuinely incredibly boring, so much so that i had to ask for help to find an answer here. the council decided on the fact that i know how to ride and own a motorcycle and am also a member in an mf in my hometown.

what was the first fandom you were a part of?: i guess the first time i was properly involved with fandom in any capacity was during my teen wolf days.

do you have any phobias?: i don't know if it's bad enough to be considered a phobia, but i'm terrified of heights. there have been several instances of me breaking down crying despite trying to keep it together while being in very high places (usually while having to climb dodgy stairs in very high buildings, among other things).

are you a picky eater? if so, what food can't you stand?: YES! and i hate it because it's so so limiting and annoying. i am incredibly sensitive regarding taste and texture and i have to physically force myself to hold back visceral reactions to foods i don't like. it'd probably be easier to list the foods i can eat tbh.

do you eat the burger and fries at the same time or one after another?: first some fries, then burger, fries, burger, fries, finish the burger, finish the fries. anything else is weird (what the fuck do you mean you eat them completely separately, liquid???)

winter or summer: winter all the way. i sweat easily, my body generally doesn't cope well with heat and i prefer bundling up and being a little cold over feeling too warm.

favourite fanfiction tropes: i LOVE a good au, any au really, but especially the cute ones. i'll read almost anything at least once and so there's just too many things i have read and enjoyed to list here. also, anything with an enemies to lovers situation. i am a sucker for that.

are you studying or working? what do you study/is your job?: both! i'm a full-time student (english major, history minor) and i am one of the student assistants in the english department's student office. i've also had other, less fun part-time jobs in the past.

what is the last country you visited: the netherlands and belgium during a day trip (by motorcycle) in june or july last year, i think.

what country would you want to move to after retiring?: i've haven't ever even considered living that long. i've always had a fascination with ireland and scotland, so based on looks and vibes alone i'd go there. or somewhere with solid winters, like a scandinavian country or finland.

who was your first crush?: hannes (played by nick romeo reimann) in the vorstadtkrokodile movies. i was ready for marriage, dreaming up a life together and everything. it also lasted until i was like 12 years old, so about six years in total. he really had me in a chokehold.

how did you get into f1 fandom?: after my interest was peaked by f1 edits that randomly popped up all over my social media one day (thank you algorithms), i did what i always do when something like that happens and opened tumblr to see what's up. and then i got stuck lol.

i have no clue who has or hasn't been tagged already, so feel free to ignore this!! @hrhgeorgerussell @bright-and-burning @borntogayz @lil-italian-disappointment @liamlawsonlesbian @piastrisms

[iwantoseeafrigatebird]

the orkney trip

part 10

-

day 9 (perhaps my favourite day?)

Going to Hoy. I went with very little morale left. The amateur archeologist lady remarked to me that cycling it and going under your own steam is the way to go. Well, i was running out of steam at that point. Still decided to wild camp on Hoy no matter what, despite the miserable start of the day, during the ferry crossing it seemed to me that the cloud would not break and the fresh breeze would not abate (I didn't yet realise that the wind would actually help me along as I cycle south west towards Rackwick bay).

Oh I was so wrong.

There's a very reasonably priced cafe called Beneth'lll where you could get two burgers, a rasher of bacon, cheese, and whatever number of free vegetable toppings in one burger for 12 ish quid. I was so miserable I just had to go in and have some warm food. Met an American couple. The thing about being on Hoy, was that as the island only has two ferry terminals running twice a day, taking in total 18 cars and that most people ended up in Rackwicl bay anyway, you would meet the people around the island and on the ferry multiple times. But I have severe face blindness and I don't look at people's faces in general. So it's a lot of "hey we meet again" or sudden random questions thrown at me under the assumption that we've met somewhere, without me ever remembering it. But I know they couldn't ve mistaken me for anyone else since I'm quite distinctive (or rather "obviously foreign", thank you i guess) and i wear a funky looking chullo... So I just talk to them until they give me some clues.

Those americans were gonna prove to be important and a god send.

One thing I did right, was that I downloaded the last sunset of the year album on my phone. and the awe inspiring landscape of Hoy is best enjoyed with Marcus' music. My thought at the time, looking at the loose clouds passing swiftly along the shoulder of the hills, the deserted heather covered windswept valley, was that this place needs a bit of ruthlessness to be beautiful.

Dwarfie Stane, presumably a tomb carved out of a single block of stone. There were beds carved inside, I'd wager you could spend a night in there very comfortably. The person climbing into the stane is Andrea, she was here on a rented caravan with her partner, both are germans. I didn't know them yet but this would change also.

I was wondering why there were so many rounded openings in the cloud over the valley, I know nothing of weather or whatever, but there seemed to be clouds coming from opposing directions. the wind felt on the ground was predominantly north easterly, but clouds up there also come from the southwest. When they meet in the middle, they started to form a vortex that rotated counterclockwise, thus the sheets of cloud were never weaved together and there would always remain a hole where a ray of sunshine could come through.

beautiful hillside. i wanted to climb it...

beautiful valley. i wanted to walk it...

The Rackwick bothy. A cool place with raised stone slabs that you could sleep on, a fire place, and windowsills full of bones.

Met the very well travelled german couple looking at a sign, I didn't say nothing but the man asked me if I was just cycling around on a bicycle. I was like huh? He said, ah we met earlier and I saw you on your bicycle. I was very perplexed. It was only later when Andrea put on her tartan scotch bonnet did I realised wait I've seen the very same bonnet at Dwarfie Stane! We were going the same way so hiked to the old man of Hoy together.

Old man of Hoy. Beautiful weather, the sun was completely out. We basked in the sunshine up on the cliffs, and the seals sunbathed on the rocks below. We could hear their high and lonesome songs, they sounded ghostly and I was surprised that the sound could travel so far. Since we are not much lower than the highest vertical sea cliff in the UK which is just a few miles away to the North if we walked along the coast. Andrea counted 36/7 of them seals. Fulmars circled the Old Man. On top there could be seen a small stack of stones and a rope attached to a rock, evidence of truely intrepid souls climbing the sea stack.

Walking back to the bothy, a sunlit Rackwick bay. The stones of the cliffs around this area were red and were brilliant to looked at under the afternoon sun. Historically they've been described as "as if on fire".

I went to the museum too, which used to be a family home of the crofters here. Apparently, it might be two Rackwick men who first invented and patented women's suspenders in the 1890s.

(tbc)

[convexicalcrow]

Hermittober Day 12: Fool

what came before: day 1: frost - day 2: time - day 3: fortune - day 4: bound - day 5: sand - day 6: bread - day 7: fall - day 8: blossom - day 9: betrayal - day 10: sacrifice - day 11: burst

look I had An Idea about the ravager costume prank and this is where it lead me.

-

"Hey! Hey! That's- no! Too many!"

Bdubs ran across the River of Souls as he saw yet another ravager start chasing him. He wasn't really thinking about where he was going, but he ended up running to the berry bush under the bridge in the TNT room, because at least he would be safe there.

He ate a couple of berries and took a moment to think about what he'd just been through. "So. Wait. Hang on. There were-" He closed his eyes as he retraced his steps. "One by the entrance, another two in the circle room, then another came from- that- that's four! Four ravagers! Tango! That's too many!"

A ravager's growl from above alerted him to yet another ravager nearby but he couldn't see it. He snuck down and around, keeping under the bridge until he climbed back up to the upper level where he could now see the ravager coming up the path from the dripstone, charging straight for him.

"No! Five! Five ravagers!" was all Bdubs managed to get out before sprinted away, turning down another corridor, where another ravager peeked out from around the corner. "Six! Tango! Tango! No! That's too many!"

Bdubs didn't really stop and think, though. He ran. He simply ran into the crypt to go hide in a corner, hopefully away from more ravagers.

"Wait. Wait. Hang on. If there's five though. Doesn't this mean that- Where's the ravagers up here?" Bdubs said, suddenly remembering where the ravagers should be.

He snuck down towards the throne room, peering in to see a ravager there too.

"Alright. Alright. Seven. Okay. That- ahaha, yeah, that seems like a lot. But it's not like they're all in one spot, right?"

He wasn't entirely reassured by this but pressed on nonetheless. He just needed to find a key and then he'd run down to the caves and see if there were fewer ravagers there.

"Gonna be a bitch getting back through here though, that's for sure," Bdubs muttered as he searched in the lava room for a key and picked up only a coin and some more berries instead.

As he went to peek around the corner and see about getting to the key room, he saw another ravager (or was it the same one?) charge straight at him. In his panic, Bdubs cornered himself in the lava room. But instead of death, as he tried to make the parkour leap onto the lantern, there was something that felt more like a headbutt or a punch and a voice saying 'boo!'

"Tango! Gah!"

Bdubs stumbled, lost his footing, shoved the ravager away, and ran. Straight into the path of another ravager. rip Bdubs. Well, it was a shit run anyway.

-

"Hey, what's so funny?" Bdubs said as he grabbed his things and brough the game to an end. "You finding my deaths so funny, are you, Tango?"

Tango's giggling turned a little more into a laugh. "Hey, you're the one who ran into a ravager! Oh, it was so funny! You didn't even see the other one who actually hit you!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, I'm glad you're entertained by it anyway," Bdubs said as he grabbed his deck and opened the door to leave.

"Always, Bdubs!" Tango said.

Bdubs scowled. "Well, if there hadn't been like nine thousand ravagers in there, maybe I'd have done better!"

"Oh, were there a few more ravagers in there, hey? Oh, that's interesting, I must have lost count as I was adding more to replace the ones who'd died," Tango said, as seriously as he was able to.

"Hey! Shut up! You try running in there with that many ravagers! I'm sure you'd die just like I did!" Bdubs said.

"Oh, sure! But that's also because I'm just bad at my own game. Are you sure there were extra ravagers in there, though? Because I'm sure there were only five last time I counted. Seriously. There should be only five," Tango said.

"Well, now I don't know anymore! Maybe I counted 'em wrong. Saw two when there was only one. Also, hey. Hey! You were- hey! You shoved me in that lava room, didn't you? Were you trying to trick me?" Bdubs said, realisation dawning on him as he remembered what had happened.

"Oh, you finally worked it out, hey? Well done, Bdubs! I though the 'boo!' might have given it away sooner but it seems not! You were too busy panicking!" Tango said.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Bdubs shoved him with his shoulder, though he was more mad at himself for not figuring it out than mad at Tango for pulling a prank on him.

"Hey, look, I'll refund that one, alright? Failed run, there was a troll in the dungeon. You wanna see how I did it, though? I think you'll enjoy it," Tango said.

"Oh, sure, yeah! Like, you looked like the real thing! I didn't even notice!" Bdubs said.

"Well, then, Bdubs, follow me up to the roof, where no one can see us," Tango said.

-

The ravager costume comprised of a mask, and a cloak, which didn't seem to be enough to Bdubs? But he trusted Tango, and got down on his hands and knees when Tango asked, and that- well. That's when the magic happened.

At least, he thought it must have been magic. How else would his body suddenly- change? Not that he was- well. Did he change? Or did his brain just change into a ravager? He wasn't sure. But his body sure moved like one. He saw Tango in front of him and wanted to both smash him and also obey him, and he wasn't sure which one at that point in time. He growled instead, and Tango laughed.

"Good boy! See? You're no different to all the other ravagers down there. I think you'll be a fine addition to the caves. We're due another down there anyway. And I think I'm going to call you… Blind Man's Bluff, because you absolutely never saw this coming," Tango said.

Bdubs wasn't sure what to do. How to react. He stamped his feet. Wanted to headbutt Tango, but something seemed to be stopping him from doing so. Growled. Went to bite him but Tango grasped his jaws with his hands and firmly closed his mouth.

"None of that, thank you! You do not attack your Dungeon Master!" Tango said.

Bdubs tried to wrestle free but Tango let him go and his words seemed to leave him paralysed. Tango wrapped something around his neck. Something heavy. A collar maybe? He didn't know. Just knew that he was suddenly Very Hungry, and all he cared to eat was whichever Hermit was silly enough to get in his path.

"Good boy, good boy. Now, you behave yourself as I take you down to the caves, alright? And if you die down there, well. That's on you, really. Go and eat all the Hermits for me, that's a good ravager," Tango said, rubbing his snout gently.

Bdubs definitely would. He'd eat so many Hermits they'd never catch him!

[danny-chase]

How many times has Dick been homeless/Alcoholic?

You're like the Wikipedia of the titans btw (compliment)

Thank you! It helps having friends who are just as obsessed with other characters on the team as you! So there's not really a short answer to this question, and it's going to depend on which timelines you're pulling from/consider canon and you're own interpretation of the scenes, image descriptions are in the alt text, i ordered these based on when the comics came out:

There's this time in NTT where no one's quite sure where he lives

The New Teen Titans #33

So this one is very open to interpretation, but for me it was weird that Kory didn't know where Dick is living, because in #29 Donna says he's working with the Titans, alone, with Bruce, and going to college. At this point to my knowledge, he doesn't have his own apartment (I'd need to double check with Batman/Detective Comics to be sure though). Why Kory didn't go to his college, I'm also not sure. But clearly the Titans still thought he was living at home but he's not. He does have a room in Titans tower, so I would say he's not technically homeless, but he kinda disappeared for a hot second. This scene takes place during the Adrian Chase arc and sometime after that and before The Judas Contract, he moves into his own apartment.

2. Dick's post-crisis departure from Bruce

Batman (1940) #416

Now what a lot of people get wrong about this era is that Bruce didn't kick Dick out - he fired Dick from Robin and as Dick describes it:

"For six years you trained me to be a crime fighter, then denied me that role. Of course, you assured me that it was for my own good. I lay there with a bandaged shoulder and my life in ruins. You smiled, kicked a great big hole in my life, then walked out of the room. I didn't see what option I had, other than to split. Alfred tried to talk me out of it. It was Alfred who forced money on me so I'd have something to live on. You couldn't even be bothered to say goodbye."

So while Bruce probably would have been okay with Dick moving back in after he dropped out of college, Dick didn't feel like he could come back home and he didn't have a permanent residence until he moved in with the Titans/rented his own apartment. This origin i think was retold by tom taylor but i'm not super paying attention to that run

3. Dick gets evicted, unclear living situation take 2

The New Titans #97

Basically at this point the tower is destroyed and they don't really show where Dick's living after getting evicted and his stuff burning up :/ so whether he's crashing on someone's couch or figured something else out, i don't know

4. Dick gets sent to juvenile detention for being homeless

Robin Annual (1993) #4

So technically he has a bed to sleep in, but post his parents dying, in this retelling of his origin (this one is by Chuck Dixon, who wrote a good chunk of his solo comic) he ends up sent to Gotham City's Youth Center, which is not really a home or an orphanage, it's more like a juvenile detention facility and some of the kids jump him like immediately after this panel. So, it's not exactly a safe place to be, but it's also not the street (although he can climb out and tries running away pretty quickly before being told to go back by Batman), he spent a month here before he moves to a permanent home with Bruce

5. Dick runs away

Robin: Year One #3

Again, he's not explicitly kicked out, but Bruce neglected him after he got injured in the Two Face incident to the point where he felt completely unwanted/unloved, was miserable and decided to leave. He joins a gang soon after this. This story is retold later in the Nightwing run, and has Dick as 12 when the two face part happens and 17 when he runs away for different reasons (it's kind of like - two different authors reference two different parts of the story, one of which is Marv Wolfman, and he changes a lot about it, but i'm not bothering to count the incident twice, and this was the first time the running away bit appeared in canon)

6. The Blockbuster arc

Nightwing (1996) #91

So this is the first time we literally see Dick sleeping on the streets. Basically the rundown is, his apartment got blown up, Haly's Circus was burnt down, and Blockbuster was killing people just for talking to him so yeah :(

7. Skaboom

Batman (1940) #649

So at this point, Dick was drifting and living with the mob/training Rose Wilson and didn't exactly have a stable home life, and then DC decided to drop a bomb on his city, so all of that blew up. He proceeded to go on a cruise with Bruce and Tim and um. yeah sure that fixes things i guess (the only point in this cruise that we see, to my knowledge, is Bruce ditching the two of them to go live in a cave, and Tim and Dick having some fun international adventures, though to be fair, i didn't read the batman comics at the time, and the recap was in Tim's robin solo). when he gets back, he finds an apartment

8. Ric

Nightwing (2016) #50

So during the Ric arc, Ric breaks into other people's homes to sleep, or sleeps in his cab. Points to Alfred for giving him money (again). I'm thinking this is where you're bringing in the problems with alcohol. This is the only arc that I know of where Dick/Ric drinks frequently (he has a bar tab, but full disclosure, I haven't actually read the whole arc, so i'm not sure the extent to which he drinks)

If i missed any feel free to add on

[one-abuse-survivor]

So I (16NB) have recently started to wonder if my parents are abusive, specifically my dad. My dad used to work as a social worker and an employee at a children's home, so he always is saying stuff like "This is what we were trained to do" and whatnot. When I was littler, up until like 12, he would pin me down or put me in full body locks when I misbehaved until I calmed down. I wouldn't be allowed to talk - he would hold me there for hours even if I was asking him to let me go or telling him I was having trouble breathing because he's a 200 smth pound 6'2 man putting his entire weight on me. One time, when I was around 9(?) I bit him while he had me pinned to the floor because he wouldn't let me go even after I begged for over 30 minutes. When I bit him he slapped me in the face so hard my ears started to ring and I was disoriented. I don't remember what happened after that tbh. A few months ago, when I was 15, we got into a fight because he was blocking the door to my room and not letting me leave or close it because I used to self harm and I "had a bad day so he wanted to make sure I don't relapse." I kept asking him to let me out because arguments make me feel unsafe and whatnot but he refused. I said if he didn't let me out I'd climb out through my window. I guess he thought I was bluffing but I went to my window and kicked open the screen. He pushed me onto my bed and slapped me twice, my cheeks stung like hell. Another time he pushed me up the stairs at our house when I sat down and started crying on one of the steps, and I got cut on a nail. I still have a scar from that. Both he and my mom (my dad more often) would take videos of me when I was having a meltdown/tantrum and threaten to post it on facebook unless I calmed down and apologized.

Hi, nonnie.

This is most definitely abuse. Just the fact that your dad pinned you down with his whole wright when you were under 12, making it hard for you to breathe, is horrifying. That's seriously dangerous, and, although I'm not a social worker and I haven't had any training on de-escalating dangerous situations with children, I highly doubt that cutting a child's airflow in any way is a safe or effective de-escalation method. It sounds to me like a violent and dangerous tactic to scare an already struggling child into submission.

And, look, even if he was truly doing something he'd been trained to do safely to de-escalate some situations, why the hell would he do it to his own child?? When you're with your kids you should act like a parent, not like a social worker. But, honestly, that's besides the point here, because the truth is that no child deserves to be pinned down forcefully by an adult, ever. Not unless it's literal life-or-death.

And slapping is also physical abuse, especially so if it's hard enough to make your ears ring. So is locking a child inside their room, especially when you're supposedly doing it for their safety when that child is explicitly telling you that they're feeling unsafe precisely because of what you're doing. So is pushing your own child so violently they hurt themself.

And, gosh, nonnie, the fact they recorded your meltdowns and threatened to post them online is just the most vile and horrific thing. That's emotional blackmail. That's emotional abuse. That's guilt-tripping. It's just. Vile. I'm truly sorry they put you through that.

You didn't deserve any of this. As a kid, you deserved for your parents to talk your emotions through with you, to hold you and to tell you it's okay to feel sad or angry or scared from time to time. You deserved help learning how to navigate your emotions. And, when you felt like self-harming, you deserved to hear your parents say, "I'm here for you. You're not alone in this. How can I help?" NOT to be locked in your room against your will and have your safety and your emotional needs ignored and your agency taken away.

What your parents, and especially your dad, have done to you is extremely violent, scary, and abusive, and it sounds really traumatic. I hope some of this helps to hear, and I hope you know that you didn't deserve absolutely any of it.

Sending a big virtual hug ❤️

[dollarbin]

Nickel Bin #8 / Sandy Saturdays #12:

Fairport Convention's Genesis Hall and

June Tabor's No Man's Land

Let's continue this week's Nickel Bin battle against the blues and get our Sandy Saturday going early by laying one of my favorite songs of all time, Genesis Hall, alongside a brand-new-to-me track that just made me fight hard not to sob.

I was introduced to June Tabor's rich voice, which sounds like Nina Simone, Emmylou Harris and Helen Mirren in the midst of a throuple, through her early 90's cover of Genesis Hall. My ladyfriend at the time (now my wife) worked at McCabe's Guitars and her fairly questionable hipster boss had just produced Beat the Retreat, a Richard Thompson tribute album. I'd hang around the place like I knew what was up while the hipster went on and on about what it was like to be in the studio with J Mascus as he piled up the tracks.

But when I sat down with the guy's record I was instantly taken instead by Tabor's naked, rugged, simple and shimmering boldness:

Not bad huh? Tabor strikes me as the only person this side of Linda Thompson who has any business singing a Sandy Denny song.

Here's Sandy's original of Genesis Hall from her second record with Fairport. If you've never heard this before, a) that's weird, and b) you might want to sit down. Richard Thompson opens the track by letting his guitar mimic a gallow's sway; you can hear the ravens strutting about with impatience, eager for the corpse to stop twitching so they can get at the eyeballs. Then Sandy comes in and lays it on us.

Thompson's poetry here is young and elusive; I don't think he or Sandy knew precisely what they were getting at. But so what: they identify, and conquer, a truly harrowing mood all the same, while the soon-to-be-dead-in-a-full-band-auto-wreck Martin Lamble's drum falls leave their forever mark.

Alternatively, Australian singer-songwriter, Eric Bogle knew exactly what he was getting at when he wrote No Man's Land in the mid-seventies. He did not like wars, most especially WW1, and he didn't like Britain's ongoing mistreatment of the Irish. So he said something about it.

Honestly, this version, which I'm listening to for the first time as I type this, doesn't do a whole lot for me. It's too stately and sincere for my impatient ears midweek - if I had not heard Tabor sing the song to begin with earlier this afternoon I never would have stopped to listen.

But Tabor's version is a big deal. She creates incredible drama with the barest of ornamentation; she climbs up and down the melody with lithe strength. I've sought fruitlessly for another song of hers that hits me like her take of Genesis Hall for a full 30 years.

Until now:

There's so much to grieve for right now. I'm battered daily by the news out of Palestine, and I know there's comparable famine and suffering from Sudan to Haiti, all while I sit complacent about 12 miles from an international, and totally arbitrary, border that is intended to prevent millions of striving people from obtaining far better lives.

I don't know what to do about it any more than you do. But listening to this song today seems like a tiny, but solid, first step.

[slowing-down-in-style]

My Dad - 12/27/2023

My dad came over for Christmas. He showed up a little before 9:30am and he was gone before 11:30am. I didn't expect him to stay long. I guess there wasn't really anything worth staying for. He doesn't like people. (Groups of people or people in general) He doesn't like coming to the city. I can't get him to do anything with me. No hockey games. No baseball games. No Crew games. No Zoo. No parks. No hiking or biking or walking or movies or cooking or baking or... anything. He's okay with coming to my place though. Sometimes we go to dinner. Only at Texas Roadhouse, preferably in Springfield. He lives an hour away from us. So in actuality I guess instead of 2 hours...  I'd taken up 4 hours of his day. Anyways, I thought the way that he left was rather weird...

He came over. I made cinnamon roll waffles for Christmas breakfast for him, Alex and I. We didn't exchange presents this year, same as last year. I didn't know what else to do while he was here... and I've long since learned I probably overwhelm him when I talk, because I fill the silence between us with talking. So I tried to talk less. Tried to stop filling the gaps of silence with worthless chit-chat.

So yeah. I guess it makes sense he left after only 2 hours. I dunno.. is 2 hours short? Is it long? Is that a perfect amount of time? He said he wanted to go home and take a nap.

Alex and I were fiddling with the xbox, maybe he thought we were ignoring him or were bored with him or something. I wasn't trying to ignore him, I was just trying to load something up, a game or a movie or something I could share with him so it wasn't just silence.

He suddenly declared he was going home and started walking towards the front door. I got up and opened my arms like I wanted to give him a hug. He looked back at me and kind of scoffed, then came back and hugged me and said goodbye. I don't think I'm ever going to forget that scoff and the look he had. I was heartbroken.

I sent him an email today, that's how my dad prefers to communicate, and asked him if I had done something to upset him on Christmas.

"No." was the reply. Nothing else.

Chris calls it verbal economy. 'that man does not talk about feelings. full stop.'

Yeah.. doesn't really leave me with a whole lot of paternal love. This is the same guy who let his me just step out of his life for years because his girlfriend treated me like a second class citizen and he only came back into my life because I called him and made him man up for my 16th birthday.

I need to quit trying to squeeze water out of stone.

My mom was a pretty emotional person. Very watery. Wore her heart on her sleeve. She was the one who had full custody of me. She often guilted me into spending time with her in ways that now... I miss terribly. She would sometimes climb in bed with me and snuggle. She would ask me to come down and snuggle up with her on the couch and watch a movie and play footsie with me like we did when I was a little kid. She took me everywhere with her when she could. (At least until she started leaving me home to go to the bar...)

I took these amazing moments for granted. When I was little I loved them. As a young adult and a teenager I felt cramped and we fought and she drank and it felt like manipulation and neglect and abuse. She would (often drunkenly) fight with me one night, not remember it the next day and expect me to be okay with her sudden lonely affections. She might not have been mother of the year, she might have been verbally and emotionally abusive and an alcoholic... and I'm not putting her above my dad in any way. But I wish right now I had parents who showed me love. I wish I had realized how important those moments were and how few of them I was going to have.

I have aunts who love me, or at least one does, but they are far away. On top of that Teri has more than enough to handle being the center piece of sustaining the lives of my disaster of a cousin and aunt. How can I possible ask her to take on one more burden in me?

I have Chris who loves me and shows me love in so many ways. He shows me new ways to love and encourages the growth I need to understand myself, the love I need and the love I give other people.

I have Alex who loves me and indulges me here and there in the same ways I indulged my mom when she wanted and needed affection and attention. When I want to show him attention and motherly affection I do so and try not to guilt him into accepting it as best I can.

I want to move towards acceptance of however my dad chooses to be and how he choses to love me. I like to think I have over the years. I don't try to force him into situations by suggesting things anymore- so he doesn't have to tell me no. But how do I expand on that acceptance so that I don't hurt when I'm let down anymore?

Also- today is his birthday. I'm taking him to dinner. To Texas Roadhouse. In Springfield.

[entities-of-posts]

Statement of Madison Glover, regarding a strange deck of cards. Statement taken direct from subject January 13, 2010.

I've always been fond of card games. Even as a child, when I was left to myself without the comforting presence of my peers, I would pass the time by pretending to play games of spades or bridge with my stuffed animals. Usually, I would be playing alongside them, but every now and then I'd play a game where I was not a participant, but rather the director. As I grew older, this second type of game slowly began to eclipse the first, until it was the only way I would play on my own.

Of course, being so enraptured with cards meant that I became more and more isolated from my peers as time went on. When we were young they would play with me, but by the time I turned 12 everyone was so engaged with their Game Boys and Nintendos and arcades that I hardly had any social life at all. That only served to drive me deeper into my games, of course. Luckily for me, there were a few other social outcasts in my grade, and a few of them were even willing to play with me.

As I quickly discovered, playing games with other people is very different from playing by yourself. To begin with, it's not as easy to plan ahead when you don't know what your opponents will do. On top of that, you can't spend as long thinking about your next move when other people are waiting for you to finish. I'll admit, I was greatly frustrated by that at first, because I was used to having all the time and knowledge in the world to strategize, with no chance of my plans going awry. As I continued to play with my newfound friends, though, I discovered that there was a certain thrill to that uncertainty. I found myself creating more and better plans, trying as best I could to outwit my opponents. Sometimes I'd win, sometimes I'd lose, but it was all in good fun, and I look back on those games fondly. Even as an adult, playing cards and all the wonderful games you can play with them are still near and dear to my heart.

I'm not sure what drew me into the pawnshop that day. More than anything, it just felt like it would be right to visit. I'm not quite sure it was now after everything that's happened, but I can't say that I exactly regret it either.

The moment I stepped inside, I felt a pull towards one of the back shelves. I walked over to look, and immediately my eyes were drawn to a black leather deck sleeve with a silver clasp shaped like a spider. When I opened it, I discovered that it still held a complete deck of beautiful poker cards. Each card's face showed the suit symbols as little spiders placed around it, with the face cards having specific species instead. The backs of the cards were deep black, with a red spider silhouette atop a white spiderweb design. I knew instantly that I had to buy it -- I've never encountered cards nearly so gorgeous before or since. They were four dollars including the sleeve, which struck me as ridiculously inexpensive, but I had no reason to argue with such a bargain.

When I got home, I thought I'd play a game of solitaire to try out my new deck. I shuffled and laid out the cards, then spent a few minutes on what must have been the luckiest game in my life thus far. Every card I flipped up seemed to be exactly what I needed in that moment, and I quickly arrived at an easy victory. It almost didn't feel real, so I dealt out a second game. The exact same thing happened, with not a single card causing me difficulty. I definitely hadn't stacked the deck, so this happening twice in a row was somewhat disturbing. I ran through game after game, but the results never changed, so I eventually decided the deck itself must be good luck. It was getting late by that time, so I put the deck back into its sleeve and laid down to sleep.

I woke up to the feeling of hundreds of tiny legs climbing over me. My eyes snapped open, and in the dim light I could see the shapes of tiny spiders covering both me and my bed, skittering across me. I tried to open my mouth to scream, but I couldn't move a muscle. All I could do was lie there and let the spiders continue to torment me for hours until the sun finally rose. As soon as that happened, the swarm of spiders crawled away as one in the direction of my nightstand, then disappeared.

Once I regained my composure, I climbed out of bed and took a look at my nightstand to see if I could figure out where the spiders had come from. All that was there was my bedside lamp, the book on poker variants I'd been reading, and my new deck of cards in its sleeve, exactly where I'd left it. When I looked closer, I saw that the silver clasp of the sleeve was open, even though I was certain I'd closed it the night before. Beyond that, nothing was out of place in the slightest, so I decided that it must have been an episode of sleep paralysis and did my best to forget the terror as I went about my day.

Adulthood has its benefits and drawbacks, but one of the things I've been most pleasantly surprised by is that having a less common interest is no longer a recipe for inescapable isolation. While it took me some time to find them, I now have a small group of friends who come to my apartment each week to play cards with me. The day after my spider torment was one of our scheduled game days, and I was looking forward to playing with my new deck. Talia Rhein came over first that day, bringing a plastic box of her homemade cookies as usual despite my continued protests that as host, I was the one responsible for providing food. Abigaëlle LeBlanc and Jules Tremblay arrived a few minutes later with the specialized card games they always brought from home. I can't say that I prefer them to the ones you play with a standard deck, but a little variety is nice once in a while. Once everyone had gathered around the table and Talia's cookies had been set out so they were available to everyone, I slid my new deck out of its sleeve to show my friends, who gave the appropriate amounts of oohs and ahhs over it. After looking them over to make sure there weren't any marks on them, Jules suggested that we use my cards for a game of poker; a suggestion which everyone quickly agreed to.

I've always loved card games, but playing with this deck in particular gave me a strange sense of both dread and power, much moreso now than when I was simply playing solitaire. It was like the cards themselves were eagerly wrapping around my little finger, letting me control the outcome of the game however I pleased. I won the first three rounds and then, seeing the frustration on my friends' faces, decided to see if I could make it seem a little more fair to them. I could. The fourth round went to Jules with a high straight, then I encouraged victories for Talia in the fifth and sixth as a quiet way of thanking her for her baking. I took the round after that, then gave the final one to Abigaëlle so as not to leave her out. By the end of our time together, everyone was laughing and Talia's cookies were long gone. As for me, I was overwhelmed by the potential power of what had seemed like such a simple purchase at the time.

That night, I closed the deck sleeve's clasp, placed it on top of my book of poker strategies, and lay down with some trepidation. I didn't want to think about what had happened last night, save for a small hope that I would be spared a repeat of the previous night's torture. It was a futile one, of course. As I stared anxiously at my nightstand, unable to sleep for the terror I felt, the paralysis took me once more. Then, moving ever so slowly in the illumination of my nightlight, I saw the glint of silver that was the desk sleeve's clasp begin to move, the long spider legs crawling as if they were alive. When it had unlatched itself, that spider lay still once more, but its movement was only the opening play of this sadistic game. Thanks to my position, I was unable to look away as the army of spiders from the night before slowly started crawling out of my beloved new deck of cards, onto the nightstand, onto my bed, onto me. Just like before, I couldn't move, I couldn't open my mouth to scream, I couldn't even close my eyes or look away and pretend it wasn't happening. I was completely helpless as the spiders covered me.

Now that I knew the spiders were coming from my new cards, I could have gotten rid of them. I should have gotten rid of them. But there was something about that deck that made me unable to bear the thought of parting with it. Maybe it was how easily I could control the flow of my games with it, or maybe it was my own foolishness, but I couldn't even consider giving it up. I can't let go of it. The spiders come every night, and I can hardly sleep. When I do manage slumber, the spiders torment me in my nightmares instead. I don't know how much more of this I can stand.

I know that the wisest thing to do would be to give you the cards and walk away. I'm well aware of that. However, even given this perfect opportunity, I still can't bring myself to do it. But in case there might be a chance you would be able to help me, I'll leave one of the jokers with you. I won't need it to play, so I think that's a card I can bear to part with. If you can find anything at all that might end this torture, please, let me know. I can't mention this to my friends or they'll think I'm crazy. You're my only recourse, Archivist.

Thank you for listening.

…

I’d been looking for this one for quite a while. Ever since that… “lucky” find in artifact storage the other day brought it back to memory.

*the Archivist idly, but carefully turns a playing card between its fingers, alternating between examining the red spider in its white web on the black backside of it and the image of a joker with a thousand tiny spiders crawling out of his eyes on the frontside*

Though I suppose “chance” is a little hard to credit, when it comes to Mother’s designs.

I did know that deck couldn’t be fair. Agreeing to play with it was certainly one of the most idiotic things I’ve done…

Lots of fun, too.

…

They were young, when they came to me first. Only a few years older than some of my pupils now… I didn’t help them, of course. Spiders were, back then, as they had been for many, many years, my friends and allies… I wouldn’t have stolen from their plate.

I’m sure you understand that, don’t you?

*it calmly makes “eye” contact with the large spider perched on its hand*

I wonder, do you resent me for that? Is there something left in you capable of hating what you’ve become?

Don’t take this as guilt; I don’t feel particularly responsible for what happened to you. But still, you didn’t use to be such a bastard. Makes one wonder if you could have turned out different… but then again, untraveled roads are always such a frustrating, enthralling thing to muse about.

Let’s See… Talia, Abigaëlle, Jules; all either dead, or so deeply Marked they might have been better off with the first option. I don’t suppose you feel much guilt for that, either, do you?

No wonder the Fog still clings to you. Subtle… but I could See it still, the moment you walked in.

Well, this was quite informative; I did always think you were somehow familiar. And who would’ve thought this was why you hate video games so much - hilariously petty, it’s wonderful :)

Thank you for your statement. You gave it long ago, of course… but it’s aged like wine.

[lost-onpurpose]

She stopped rattling around 12:15 am. Her breathing was extremely shallow and slow (about 2 and a half to 3 minutes between inhale and exhale). Mom was holding one hand, my aunt was holding the other, and I had my hand on her leg when she let out the last one around 12:30 am.

It took a minute for us to realize she wasn't breathing anymore and the hospice nurse came over, took the oxygen tube away from her nose, checked her pulse, blood pressure, and listened to her heart before patting mom on the shoulder and saying she would let us have as much time as we needed.

My mom and aunt lost it completely. I'm surprised they didn't climb in the bed with her.

I promised Mammaw I would take care of Mom. I walked out of the room a few minutes after she passed and asked her hospice nurse and her primary caregiver what our next steps were.

I knew what their next steps were, I'd sat through helping with all the paperwork for a patient passing when I was doing home health a few years ago but I hadn't been on the family side of the final arrangements until today.

My mom and aunt are the medical and durable power of attorneys (respectively) for Mammaw but neither of them were in a good emotional state to start planning right then.

"When you're ready, we'll call the funeral home and they'll come pick her up. We'll get her cleaned up and ready to go. You don't have to make any planning decisions tonight, call the funeral home in the morning and schedule a time to meet with them to discuss final arrangements."

I called my brother, my dad, my great uncle (Mammaw's only living child), and let them know. I messaged the two relatives who requested a message instead of a call if it was before 8 am because they didn't want to accidentally wake up their kids.

I came back into the room and gave Mammaw one last hug and a kiss on her forehead. I asked Mom and my aunt to let me know when they were ready for the funeral home to be notified. Mom didn't want to wait for them and my aunt did.

She was the first resident in the care home after it opened in November and unfortunately she was the first to leave as well.

I'm rescheduling today's appointments at the office and gathering all of Mammaw's important documents and the packet for funeral planning that we got from them in December when Mammaw was put on hospice.

I'm weirdly relieved because she was so weak and confused and hurt so much the last few months and now she's not hurting anymore.

I know it's not my responsibility to take care of all of the paperwork but it's been a needed distraction. As long as there is planning to do on her part, it doesn't feel like she's fully gone yet.

When the planning is over and the funeral is done, I'm going to lose it. I might be able to push the breakdown to the end of tax season by focusing on work, but I doubt it.

Death isn't hard for the dead, it's hard for the living.

I am exhausted.

I showered last night for the first time in two weeks. I got almost zero sleep last night because night is the only time I ever have quiet to myself. And it's still very unstable quiet because I could get called at any time to run back to mom's because mammaw needs something or gets hurt or needs medical attention.

My entire life is on hold because I can't go more than an hour away from home in case something happens. I feel guilty doing anything for myself because it takes away from the care of my great grandma.

I just can't keep doing it. It's taking a toll on my mental and physical health at this point.

I'm so tired of taking care of everyone else.

When is it my turn to be taken care of? Even just for a little while.

[babylooneytoonz]

the Vessel [ Pt. 12 ]

pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Reader

summary: When Calanthe tries to separate you from Geralt, you finally decide to take matters into your own hand and fight for what is yours. And your baby's.

warnings: 18+ smut and a lot of fluff

[My Masterlist] [My Witcher Masterlist - Read the other parts here!]

You woke up to a ray of sunlight falling right across your face, for a massive window was just right next to where the bed was. It still took you a full minute to completely open your eyes.

You smiled to yourself, when you heard the faint rise and fall of the man's chest next to you, and you turned to your side, your eyes falling on his peaceful form.

He looked peaceful, his hair messy and all over his face. He had an arm tucked around your waist still, and yet even in his sleep, the hold he had on you was light.

You rolled over, only slightly so that you were completely glued to him, listening to him stir from his sleep, and slowly, open his drowsy eyes.

"Morning, my love," you whispered to him, bringing your palm up to cup his cheeks, your thumb stroking gently over.

A faint smile crossed his lips; and his hand came to rest against your waist. In one tug, he pulled you into him, his firm body pressing against yours as he brought his lips to yours, kissing you softly.

You moaned in a low voice, Geralt's morning erection, like a hard rock, pressed to your core; his steady grinding into you causing your core to ache, "Geralt—"

"Hm?" He chuckled in his low, morning raspy voice, still grinding into you.

"Don't tell me I didn't warn you, Witcher," you playfully smacked him across his chest, and his eyebrow shot up in question; but before he could even reply, you were already climbing up on his lap, straddling him and his hard cock.

His head fell back against the pillow, and a groan left his lips. His hand came to rest on either of your hips, as he gripped you tight.

In a really painfully slow move, you went down on him, until his thickness completely filled you up, stretching you up bit by bit. You looked down at Geralt in his eyes, and he looked at you, as you began rolling your hips, riding the Witcher.

"Fuck," Geralt cursed, as you stopped your movements all together, and suddenly, began rolling your hips once again, feeling Geralt almost squirm underneath you.

When Geralt felt that you were tiring, he suddenly flipped you around, and you coiled your feet around his waist, as he continued to ravage you, pulling his slick coated cock out completely, before slamming hard into you. Your nails ripped through the flesh on his back, your nails dragging over his flesh, as you arched your back and let out a low pitched moan, driving the Witcher crazy.

This time, neither of you lasted long; and you finally exploded, stars in your eyes, as your pussy clenched around his cock, and a sudden electric current shot through your body as your orgasm took over, leaving you trembling and shaking. This was enough to push the Witcher over the edge; his movements had become sloppier, his thrusts dragged but it didn't take long for him to mutter a curse under his breath, his cock twitching once before his hot seed spilt inside of you.

You groaned against Geralt's sweaty forehead against yours; your fingers threading delicately through the Witcher's locks as he slumped in bed next to you. You could feel his breaths on you, and it took you a moment for the realization to sink in that Geralt was actually leaving for a while.

He noticed the lost look in your eyes, and he propped himself up on his elbow, looking at you.

"Say it," he chastised you.

You sighed, letting your hand rest against your growing bump, tenderly rubbing circles over it.

"When will you be back, Geralt?" You bit your lip.

A faint smile crossed over his otherwise stoic features. He leaned forward, so his face was above yours, his eyes gazing into yours with utmost tenderness.

"I thought you hated my company."

"That's not true," you protested, sitting up and rubbing your eyes with the balls of your palms, "I just didn't like you back then. Things are different now. I realized you aren't what you show others to be."

He nodded and leaned forward so he could kiss you, but before he could, there was a loud knock on your wooden door.

You glared from him towards the door that was pounding.

"Aunt [Y/N]?!"

"This is why I prefer the woods. No early morning visitors," Geralt said in a gruff voice, and laid back down casually. You smacked him hard against his chest and he growled at you in retaliation.

"GERALT, HIDE. YOU CANT BE FOUND HERE. YOU KNOW HOW MOTHER IS—"

"You want me to hide?" He looked at you in disbelief, his jaw almost hanging loosely.

You gave him the most innocent puppy dog eyes and Geralt couldn't help but groan. You were irresistible like that.

"Please, Geralt—"

"Aunt [Y/N] ? Are you alright?" Ciri called out from outside.

"Yes, Cirilla, give me a moment, I'll be right out, love," you called out, and you turned towards Geralt, quickly tossing him his shirt. You motioned towards him with your fingers to quickly get dressed, but he just smirked at you, intentionally leaping off the bed at a pace of a snail's.

"Geralt, can you hurry up?" You snapped as you pulled the covers off your body and began pulling your slip over your head. You could feel Geralt's gaze over your form and you sighed, in frustration, "Geralt."

"Then stop distracting me," He smirked, moving round the bed towards you, his eyes hungry and clouded with lust. He pushed you to the wall, placing both his hands on either side of your head as he ran his thick, beefy fingers under your slip, until he was cupping your breasts.

To be fair, Geralt couldn't keep his hands off you ever since you had let him close. He had been fighting off these feelings for too long now and ever since he had seen you grow his baby in your belly, your belly swelling up as the time passed, his feelings for you grew, warmth filling up his otherwise cold heart.

"Geralt, we can't, Ciri is right outside—"

"She must have left by now. You didn't open the door," he took your taut nipple into his two fingers, pinching them and you winced, in pain and pleasure mix, letting the back of your head rest against the wall.

"You're so beautiful with my child inside you," Geralt placed his palm on your belly, rolling your slip up so he could see your bump. He smiled at how round and beautiful you looked, nurturing his baby.

Suddenly there was a knock again.

"Aunt [Y/N]? Are you okay?"

"Well, fuck," Geralt groaned in annoyance and you couldn't help but give him a toothy grin. You reached up on your toes so you could give a quick peck to his lips, "Geralt, please!!" You pleaded and Geralt groaned in annoyance, turning away as his eyes scanned your bedroom, until he saw a bannister in the other end of the room. He walked up to it, pushing himself behind it. You took a deep breath and straightened your slip, unlocking the door.

"Aunt [Y/N]. I was starting to get worried," Ciri stepped into your room, eyeing you, and your clothes carefully.

"Sorry, I sort of overslept? Anyway, is everything okay?" You asked, nervously running your hand through your hair.

"I just wanted to let you know grandmother wants you to get dressed in your best tonight, there's a few special guests arriving, just to see you."

You raised your eyebrow, frowning slightly, "Guests?"

"I wish I knew."

"Thanks Ciri," You smiled and placed your palm on her shoulder, squeezing it tight.

The little girl nodded at you, her blue eyes twinkling as she gave you a small smile back. She turned around and began walking through the door. She paused when she reached the door, and smirked slightly, biting her lip, "Aunt [Y/N], I'd wear a scarf tonight if I were you," she winked, and ran away.

Geralt couldn't help but let out a snort once she had left.

At first you didn't understand what she meant by it, but once she was gone, Geralt stepped out of his hiding spot and you gave him a confused look. He cleared his throat, and slowly placed both hands on your shoulders, turning you around to face the body size mirror and you looked at the countless darkening bruises you had on your body, from where Geralt had sucked against your flesh.

Flustered you buried your hands in your face, "You could have told me you did that Geralt. To hell now with the whole plan of keeping this discreet."

"I would have rather stayed in the palace here with you, [Y/N]—" Jaskier whined in protest, swinging a sack that he was holding across his shoulder, while Geralt just grunted in response to his words and you shook your head. You were walking in the middle of the two of them, Geralt on your right and Jaskier on your left.

"Jaskier, I need you to go with Geralt," you whispered. Geralt rolled his eyes but he didn't argue. He had already had this discussion with you. He had wanted Jaskier to stay with you but you insisted that you wouldn't be able to stop worrying about him anyhow and it would make you feel better if Jaskier accompanied him, although you ones that if they were in some sort of danger, Geralt would have to protect Jaskier's ass and it definitely wouldn't be vice versa. But Geralt had finally relented and agreed.

"You know he can take care of himself, you're making me miss on the palace life, the luxuries and the rich food," Jaskier pointed out.

"I thought you wanted your lute, Jaskier," Geralt suddenly deadpanned, cutting Jaskier off, and you couldn't help but press your palm to your lips to suppress the unladylike snort that escaped your lips.

The three of you reached the front gate of the palace, and you couldn't help but feel sad. Geralt's fingers twitched, brushing against your palm and suddenly, he clasped his hand in yours, the skirt of your dress hiding your entwined hands from the rest of the world.

"You take care of yourself."

"I'm not the one leaving, Geralt. I'm not the one going back to the sorceress," you whispered in a low voice; a hint of jealousy playing in your voice.

"I'm just going to get Roach back. I promise there's nothing left between Yen and me," He squeezed your hand.

You stopped walking as you had already reached the palace door. The heavy doors were opened by the guards and you kept standing there, watching the two of them walk out of the palace until they weren't in sight anymore. You sighed to yourself, and started walking back inside.

You knew there were probably thousands of people in the castle right now; yet your heart felt lonely.

You spent the next three hours locked up in your bedchambers, sleeping most of the time. It was only at around sunset when one of your mother's handmaidens woke you up and told you that the Queen wanted you to be there at the dinner tonight, that some really important guests were coming over.

You looked at the beautiful golden dress that she was carrying in her hands. It was pure gold, with sparkling gems strewn to it. It looked expensive. As if the handmaiden had seen your expressions, she smiled and whispered, "this belongs to your mother. She wore this on her wedding day to King Eist. Now she wants you to have it."

She noted the look of discomfort that flashed in your eyes as you reached out and took the heavy dress from her.

"Why would she want me to wear this? Can't I wear something more simple? More comfortable?"

"Queen's orders, my lady."

You knew best to argue with the handmaiden so you groaned, rubbing your baby bump tenderly as you began slipping out of the simpler dress that you had been wearing. The handmaiden assisted you with the dress, and finally after an hour or so, you looked at yourself in the mirror.

The dress did seem to be a little tight from your waist given the fact that your baby bump was almost six months huge now but it did make you look beautiful, and divine. The gold colour blended perfectly with your skin tone, the pale make up that your handmaiden had done for you finally made you look like the Princess you truly were. If only Geralt had seen you like this, he wouldn't have been able to keep his hands off you.

Faint music from a lute played inside the hall, as you walked towards it, holding the skirt of your dress. You were trying your best to make your waddle a less of a waddle and more of a walk, but it was proving more difficult as your baby was growing inside of you fast, making it difficult for you to not waddle about due to your growing bump.

One of the guards opened the door for you, and you stepped into the hall, your eyes falling on your mother, Ciri and Eist seated on either side of her. Ciri, upon looking at you, couldnt help but openly frown at you, but Eist and Calanthe seemed to be in a jolly mood.

"Come on, join us, love, we would like to speak to you before our guests are here," Calanthe pointed to an empty high chair in front of her.

You nodded, and lowered yourself into it, keeping your eyes fixed on her.

Calanthe turned to Eist, and gave her a look, before she lifted the goblet in front of her and brought it up to her lips.

"We talked a lot, and decided something, love."

Her eyes fell down as she fixed her gaze on your bump, and then back towards your face.

"I should, perhaps, excuse myself?" Eist muttered, but Ciri snorted, "Why? I think you should stay. This is your masterplan too."

"Cirilla, leave us. Go back to your chambers—" Calanthe said, sternly.

You didn't understand what was up with them. You kept glancing from Ciri to Calanthe who finally looked at you.

"We love our grandchild. We really do. And we know how powerful and strong that child is. Which is why, we have made a decision. You will marry King Foltest of Temeria." Calanthe blinked.

"What?" You snapped, your voice coming out sharper than usual.

"Your union with Foltest will save the baby from being a called a bastard child, [Y/N]. They will be the legitimate heir to the Temerian Kingdom, and you will be protected."

Ciri stood up and she walked over to you. She placed a palm on your shoulder and squeezed it. Hot tears were already beginning to form in your eyes. You began blinking, rapidly, trying to get the cloudiness to go away.

"Are you serious mother? My baby's father is very much with me. You want me to wed King Foltest? I want Geralt," you whined.

"Listen [Y/N]—" Calanthe stood up, her angry eyes looking at you, "You are not an ordinary woman. You are the Princess of Cintra. You cannot leave everything for a Witcher on the road."

"But mother I love Geralt!" You shouted back, curling your fists against the fabric of the dress.

"We all sacrifice, child. For what is right. Foltest is the key to securing your future. Also, you should thank him [Y/N]. He is accepting your hand in marriage even knowing the fact that you are carrying another man's bastard child inside you."

You flinched at the harshness of your own mother's words, the mother you had tried so hard to be in the life of.

"I don't want to marry Foltest. I want to live my life with Geralt."

"And do what? Assist that Witcher in killing monsters?" Calanthe spat, taking a sip of the drink, shaking her in distaste, "You think you can own it all? Have a Witcher sit on the throne to Cintra by your side?"

"Mother, this throne means nothing to me if there's no Geralt by my side."

You turned around, and turning your back towards them, you began walking away, ignoring your mother who kept screaming at you, "Do you think you have a choice? This Kingdom chose you, you didn't choose this kingdom. You are going to marry Foltest, [Y/N]. Whether you like it or not."

You wiped the base of your eyes with the balls of your palm and sniffled as you looked at yourself in the mirror. The dress lay discarded on the floor, and you were dressed in a slip. Your fingers grazed over the marks that Geralt had given you last night, that one night of passion you had shared with him, and your heart ached. The man had marked you for himself, and even the destiny had. He was your lover and the father of your baby, yet you were now being faced with this gruesome situation of being married off to someone else— someone that wasn't Geralt of Rivia.

You were startled when Ciri wrapped her arms around your shoulders and let her head rest against your shoulder. Well, atleast there was someone who supported you, and your decision.

"I am sorry, Aunt [Y/N]. Grandmother can be overbearing."

"Can be?" You asked, sarcastically and she kept quiet, her head still resting against your shoulder, until she propped her head up and turned to you, her expressions serious.

"What are you going to do?" She asked.

You took a deep breath, and looked down at your bump, the only thing left to remind you of the man who had promised he would come back for you.

"I will run away. I don't want the Kingdom Ciri, if it means I have to marry Foltest. I cannot betray Geralt."

"Can I come with you?" She asked, and you turned towards her, shaking her head.

"Someone needs to be with mother, Ciri. And if it can't be me, it has to be you."

You told her, taking both her hands on yours, your thumb stroking gently over her knuckles.

The two of you stayed in momentary silence; before the two of you dropped each other's hands. She stood up and gave you an apologetic glance before she started walking out when you called her.

"Ciri, will you help me? I need to leave."

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[bill-y]

𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐑𝐄

Peeta Mellark x male reader

[ We all know who Katniss Everdeen is, but what if Primrose hadn’t been chosen but another boy from another unfortunate family? YOUR family. ]

Info: This is basically a reader insert and I’ve changed a few rules, not ground breaking though. The reader is a bit bland for now but I plan for his actions to be different. Because he has different moral grounds from Katniss and such. Would appreciate feedback! FEEL FREE TO POINT OUT TYPOS. GRAMMARLY SOMETIMES DOESN’T DO MY DYSLEXIC ASS JUSTICE

Part three: Click this, Rumtumtugger.

Part four: you're here, jennyanydots

Part five: Clicky dicky here, buddy

Wattpad account: L0calxDumbass

Those words left my mouth without much thought. I wasn't thinking of the damned consequences at the moment.

Behind me was Kunal, an iron grip on my leg, bawling his eyes out. "Y/N! NO! NO! YOU CAN'T GO!" he pleaded, his cries getting louder by the second. 

My hand ruffled his strawberry blonde hair, messing it up. "Let go, Nal," I said in the calmest tone I could muster. He shook his head, tears running down his cheeks, I cleared my dry throat, gulping down nothing. My mouth was dry as if I just ate a handful of salt, which was honestly a luxury.

My face remained stoic, the moment I show a sign of distress I know the people in the Capitol would eat it up like good bread. It entertains them, our suffering entertains them. 

His hands slipped from my leg, gripping on my pants before he was finally taken away from me. "Up you go, Owl eyes," said Gale, his voice trying hard to remain steady. Beside him was Katniss, who was holding Kunal by the shoulders. She nodded, "Good luck, Y/n,"

I nodded, before looking back at the temporary stage. "Oh well, Bravo!" Effie exclaimed. "That's the spirit of the games!"

She was thrilled, finally seeing some action from this district. It made a pit in my stomach, I clenched my jaw. If only the roles were reversed, Capitol people fighting for their lives instead of us.

Oh, how funny that would be.

I strode to the stage, trying my best to look collected. The foreboding feeling in my stomach only grew with each step I took, my hands sweating as if they've just been dipped into water once I finally took my place.

"Do tell us your name," Effie said, her grin widening as she nodded, encouraging me to talk. It took all the will power I had to not strangle her.

"Y/n Greyback," I replied dryly, hoping it would set her off.

“I bet my buttons that was your brother. Don’t want him to steal all the glory, do we? Come on, everybody! Let’s give a big round of applause to our newest tribute!” she trilled, making me clench my fists.

Her words were met with silence. No one clapped, not a noise can be heard. Even the ones who would usually bet on who would wound up as a tribute didn't do anything.

I held back a smile, a surge of hope flowing through me. This was the most rebellious thing they could do without getting punishment of any sort. Silence.

Silence doesn't mean fear or that we're cowards. It meant that we do not accept this, we do not condone.

Just as my father always said, one does not need to shout to make a change.

The next thing that happened was even more of a surprise. Maybe it was because I was a son of a "rebel", maybe they pitied my family or maybe it was because I talked to the mayor's daughter.

Just one, then two, then a group almost all of the crowd put the three middle fingers of their left hand to their lips and held it out to me. It is an old and rarely used gesture of our district, occasionally seen at funerals. It means thanks, it means admiration, it means good-bye to someone you love.

My tense hands relaxed a sense of calm washing over me. We were united in a strange way, something I thought would only happen in my dreams.

"Look at him! Look at this one!" Hollered Haymitch, throwing an arm around my shoulder. His arm was quite heavy, understandable, he's a wreck. "I like him!"

The scent of alcohol from his breath was strong, or maybe he just smelled of alcohol. "Lots of. . ." He paused, trying to think of a word.

I cringed as he slightly swayed around, trying my best to not touch him. "Spunk!" he declared triumphantly. "More than you!"

He released me, staggering to the front of the stage. "More than you!" He declared once more, pointing towards the camera.

Was he talking to the audience? Or maybe he was addressing the Capitol. I wish it's the latter, that would be funny.

Just as he opened his mouth to continue, he fell down the stage, knocking himself unconscious in the process. I snickered slightly, my face scrunching up right after.

Thankfully, the cameras were all pointed towards him, watching as they whisked him away into a stretcher. I took this moment to glare back into the distance, watching the scenery.

There was the hill that me, Katniss and Gale were just at. It looked so peaceful, contrary to my day.

"What an exciting day!" Effie warbled, trying to fix her tilted wig. It looked ridiculous. Why would Capitol people, no, why would anyone wear that?

It looks ugly, like a beaten up squirrel. Though I'd be lying if I said it wasn't eye-catching, though, beaten up squirrels are also eye-catching. “But more excitement to come! It’s time to choose our next tribute!” she continued, putting one hand to the second bowl.

Her fingertips grab the first slip it encounters. I hoped it wasn't Gale or Katniss. I didn't want to kill them, not that I'd ever stand a chance.

Katniss was extremely skilled with the bow, she could probably shoot my head from miles away. Gale, on the other hand, was strong, compared to him, I had the strength of a broken twig.

"Peeta Mellark," She read. Oh no. Why him? Of all the people in this district. His father just "introduced" me to him this morning, not just that, I knew him.

I watched him make his way up the stage, I had a clear look at him this time. He had a stocky build, medium height,  ashy blonde hair that falls in waves over his forehead. The shock of the situation registered on his face, though you could tell that he was alarmed by the way his blue eyes looked.

Like a prey knowing it'd be hunted.

Despite this, he still manages to climb up the small flight of stairs calmly.

Effie Trinket then asked for volunteers, but no one spoke up. He has two older brothers, I've seen them. But one is probably too old to volunteer, and the other just wouldn't. This was standard family devotion, what I'd done was a radical thing.

The mayor began to say the same old words he always says every reaping day. I couldn't help but think, why him?

I remember it all too well, that day, it was raining up a storm, the wind was howling. My mother and my brother were left at home, I was tasked to find food for us since my mother couldn't bear to show her face to the district.

How could she? Her husband has been executed for rebellion against the Capitol. One of the peacekeepers found weapons under his possession and he was killed. He managed to convince them to spare us, though sometimes I wished it hadn't worked.

Within a week of his death, we began to lose money, and therefore, food. Nobody wanted to help us, nobody wanted to associate with the family of a tyrant.

Shame, the family name bared shame. My mother didn't have the gall to go out and sell any of my father's things, my brother was too young to even understand what was going on.

I was angry. How could they have just taken everything away from us that easy? Who gave them the right to do that?

But at that moment, I couldn't afford to sit still and wallow in my resentment. That was a luxury I couldn't afford. not many could afford it either.

Starvation was a fairly common thing in district 12, though the amount of covering up the peacekeepers do no one a favour and fools no one.

There I was, a boy who wasn't even old enough to be registered into the pile walking around in the harsh weather, stripped away from my dignity and whatever money we had.

I found myself in the Mellark's bakery, being told off by the baker's wife, who was tired of having brats from the Seam paw through her trash. I would've screamed back then, but I didn't want the Peacekeepers called on me.

So I left without another word, sitting at a tree for some sort of cover from the harsh rain.  I remember the snorts of the pigs beside me, and that was when I realized I'm no better than cattle; the people of Panim were no better than cattle.

My knees buckles as I collapsed onto the wet grass, shuddering from the cold and the harsh reality. Maybe I had gone insane then, but I vaguely remember talking to the pigs, ranting to them.

They didn't listen, they were too busy rolling in the mud. Looking back, I find this extremely funny, but maybe that's because I don't want to pity myself.

I didn't even notice a boy until the pigs actually rose to eat the pieces of bread thrown at them. I stared at him for a long while, mainly because of the burnt bread, the crust was scorched black.

But a red mark on his cheekbone caught my attention. Had they hit him for burning the bread? My parents have never hit me, I couldn't even imagine what that would feel like.

He took one look at the bakery as if checking if the coast was clear before he turned back to the pigs. Though instead of feeding the pigs he tossed the loaves of bread to me.

I watched him walk towards the bakery and closing the kitchen door tightly behind him. All I could do was stay silent, before shoving them up to my shirt, muttering a broken thank you as I ran home.

The loaves had cooled by the time I got home, but that didn't matter. We had something to eat. Mother looked at me, relieved I didn't die. She hugged me, apologizing.

I didn't care though, we had food, that's what's important.

And for the first time in weeks, we had a proper meal.

I was thankful, the fact that he'd probably burnt the bread on purpose never occurred to me until I crawled onto the bed, staring at the wooden ceiling. An act of kindness, someone still cared.

It was as if spring came overnight, fluffy clouds, blue sky, the warm sweet air. At school, we would always catch each other's gazes. I felt a tad bit bad, his cheek was swollen and his eye had blackened.

I couldn't come up to say thank you, instead, I watched him from a distance, contemplating whether I should. When I went to fetch Nal, out eyes met once more, I was about to mouth a thank you until Nal tugged my shirt.

He handed me a dandelion. He's always loved flowers. His love for it made me realize how I would get the food we needed. All that time I and my father spent in the forest won't be for nothing.

To this day, I still feel as if I owe my family's life to him. I had honestly given up, but he gave me something. Peeta Mellark, the boy who gave me bread and the dandelion, both gave me hope.

Maybe if I had said thank you all those years ago I wouldn't be feeling so guilty now. I could always say it but something about thanking him whilst I'm practically holding a knife against his throat seems dishonest.

The mayor finished his speech, telling us to shake hands. His were as warm and firm as those loaves of bread. He squeezed me as if reassuring me. Or maybe those were just nervous spasms.

We turn back to the crowd as the anthem of Panem plays.

There are twenty-four of us fighting in that arena, as grim as it is, let's just hope someone kills him before I'm forced to. I don't wanna kill the reason I've survived all those years.

Word count: 2026

Tags:

@nin3s

Sorry for the late update my exams are next week and im rushing to finish my requirements at school. :"