#and then it got stolen again in 2015

[tevruden]

@ferote-eerfreve 2006 Suzuki GSX-R 600:

Got film developed and found pictures of my motorcycle and old apartment

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Let's Talk About That

Usually I keep it casual (2)

Psychiatrist!Avenger!fem!reader x Wanda Maximoff

Summary: The compound has been built, and training has begun. With the two of you living together now stolen moments are bound to happen.

Word count: 2.7K

Warnings: legal age gap r is 19 and w is 25, talks of depression, bit of angst, bit of fluff, talk of vo*it (once towards the end)

A/N: The moment between R and W is taken from the moment in WandaVision where they go through Wanda's memories so R is taking the place of Vision and says his lines in that moment.

June 21st 2015

The new Compound was finally built and all of the Avengers moved there to live and to train. You got a new office looking similar to your old one and before you could start moving your things in it was time to start training the new recruits.

Captain America and Black Widow prepare to train the new roster of Avengers, consisting of Falcon, Wanda, War Machine, and Vision.

You stand just off to the side of Cap and Tasha. "You ready to finally show off your powers?" Cap asks you as you smirk, cracking your neck to either side. 

"Oh Cap, you know I was born ready.” you tell him as your eyes glow purple. 

"Alright, line up!" You call out. The new recruits line up. "I have a simple task for you four, move me from this spot." You tell them and you hear Sam chuckle. 

"You deal with our emotions, how hard could it be to move you?" He asks. 

"Thank you for volunteering to be my first victim Sam!" You smile. "Please front and center. The other watch as Sam tries to move you in any way, but can't. Even using his wings he can't. Then Rhodey tries and still nothing, Vision attempts and you don't budge. You look at Wanda. "Well?" You ask, quirking an eyebrow up at her. She has this soft look in her eyes almost like a baby deer.

"I don't want to hurt you." Wanda says her being the only magic user besides you currently on the team. 

"Oh sweetie. You could never hurt me. Go on, hit me with your best shot." You tell her, her eyes and hands glow red as she unleashes attacks on you as you swipe your hand up, a purple force field looking much like Wanda's own magic comes to protect you. They all look at you in shock. 

"Oh did we forget to mention something?" You hear Natasha's condescending tone ring out behind you making you chuckle, catching the attention of the newest members. 

"I think we did Tasha." You say pulling the collar of your shirt down, showing off the glowing purple stone in your chest, looking similar to the mind stone in Vision's head. "I have the power stone in my chest. Really I'm the best of both worlds. Brains and brawns. The stone gives me psychic energy manipulation, force field generation, disintegration of objects I touch, energy absorption, magic empowerment, and of course superhuman strength and durability.

The new Avengers stood in awe as you revealed the Power Stone embedded in your chest, their expressions a mix of shock and admiration. You could feel the weight of their gaze on you, but you stood tall, unyielding, a smirk playing on your lips.

"Wow," Sam exclaimed, breaking the silence. "That's... impressive."

You chuckled, feeling a surge of pride at their reaction. "Thank you, Sam. But let's not get too distracted. We have work to do."

With that, you motioned for them to regroup, eager to put their newfound knowledge to the test. "Alright, let's try this again," you announced, positioning yourself in the center of the training area. "This time, I want you to work together to try and move me."

The recruits exchanged glances before nodding in determination. Sam and Rhodey took to the skies, while Vision and Wanda focused their powers, creating a coordinated assault.

As they unleashed their combined efforts, you could feel the energy swirling around you, pushing against the force field generated by the Power Stone. But despite their best efforts, you remained rooted to the spot, a testament to the strength of the stone's power.

"Keep going!" You encouraged them, a grin spreading across your face as you felt the thrill of the challenge. "You're doing great!"

For several minutes, they continued their assault, each attack more powerful than the last. But no matter how hard they tried, they couldn't overcome the barrier protecting you.

Finally, with a triumphant shout, they ceased their assault, panting and exhausted but exhilarated by the challenge. "I... I can't believe it," Sam gasped, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Believe it," you replied, your voice tinged with pride. "With teamwork and determination, there's nothing we can't overcome. You guys are new to being a team. I'm sure you'll be able to take me on properly soon."

As the others caught their breath, you couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement for the future. With this new team of Avengers and the power of the Stone at your disposal, there was no telling what this new team could accomplish together. And as you looked around at your teammates, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them head-on, united as one.

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

The Next Day June 22nd 2015

It's late evening after you had roused yourself to get a snack you notice Wanda's door cracked slightly as you forgo getting a snack and decide to knock on her door. "Open." She says similar to you when the two of you first met. You open the door fully and smile at her, but she doesn't have a smile to give you back. 

She has Malcom in the Middle playing as she is sat on her bed, a grey tank top, mostly covered by a black sweater hanging off her shoulder and tight black leggings. She's sitting with her legs crossed, a pillow in her lap that's she's leaning on. "If now isn't a good time I can..." you trail off. She pats the bed next to her, still no smile, but you can read her well enough that she wants company, she just doesn't always know how to ask for it. 

She looks away, pulling her sleeves over her hands and even though they're covered she still keeps tugging at them with anxiety. You sit next to her mimicking her posture as you grab one of her pillows from behind us and crossing your legs. She finally attempts a smile at you for half a second once you've settled. Then turns her attention back to the TV where Hal gets hurt and you chuckle. 

"I only watched Malcom in the Middle when it was on TV, but I tended to find Full House, Fresh Prince, and The Nanny playing when I'd go looking for late night TV." You tell her. 

"You like sitcoms?" She asks and you look at her with a warm smile. 

"Yeah I do. Never got the chance to tell you though." A smile creeps onto her lips without her knowledge. You unconsciously lick your lips as you stare at hers. She always somehow managed to look perfect and maybe it's the repressed emo girl that you used to be, but her in all black, and her black nail polish she just so happened to be your type. 

"Y/N?" You're pulled back to reality by her voice.

"Hmm?" You ask. 

"I asked what's your favorite sitcom?" She repeats and you think a moment, you end up letting yourself fall back against her bed, staring at her ceiling.

"That's honestly hard for me to answer. I'm not good with picking favorites." You look over at her. "I always feel bad when I pick a favorite anything as if the others aren't good enough or something." You confess to Wanda. 

"What about like top 3 or top 5?"

"Hmmm…” You think for a few moments, going through the list of sitcoms you've grown up with, contemplating about each for no more than a moment. “Full House, That 70s Show, Seinfeld, Friends, Golden Girls, and The Office is probably my newest obsession." She smiles before letting a laugh pass her lips. You smile, biting your bottom lip as you do so because she's just so, "Beautiful." I end up saying out loud. She stops and you can see her face redden. You scramble up off her bed. "Shit sorry if that made you uncomfortable. I'm sorry I'll leave!" You ramble and as you turn to run you feel her grip on your wrist. You look back at her, eyes glowing. 

"If we're being honest with each other Doctor I'd like to let you know I think you're quiet beautiful yourself." She admits to you and something about her calling you doctor sends your brain into a frenzy and you can tell she's hearing every thought going through your head and you can't find yourself to even be mad about it right now as you step back to her, grabbing her face and kissing her.

The moment your lips met, it was as if time stood still. All the worries, the doubts, the fears melted away, leaving only the warmth of her touch and the sweet taste of her lips against yours. In that fleeting moment, there was nothing else in the world but the two of you, lost in the intensity of the connection we shared.

As the kiss deepened, you felt a surge of emotions coursing through you, a mixture of desire, longing, and something deeper, something you couldn't quite put into words. It was as if your souls were reaching out to each other, seeking solace and understanding in the midst of chaos.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and flushed, you found yourself gazing into Wanda's eyes, searching for any sign of regret or hesitation. But all you saw was warmth and affection, mirrored in her gaze.

"I'm sorry," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "I shouldn't have—"

But before you could finish your sentence, Wanda silenced you with a gentle touch of her finger against your lips. "Don't apologize," she said softly, her eyes sparkling with emotion. "That was... unexpected, but not unwelcome."

You felt a rush of relief flood through you at her words, a weight lifted from your shoulders. For the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was hope for something more between the two of you.

As we sat there in silence, the glow of the TV casting flickering shadows across the room, you realized that this was just the beginning of your journey together. There would be challenges ahead, obstacles to overcome, but as long as you faced them together, you knew the two of you could conquer anything.

With a smile, you reached out and took Wanda's hand in yours, intertwining your fingers as if to seal the unspoken promise between the two of you. As the two of you sat there, bathed in the soft light of the TV, you knew that no matter what the future held, you would face it together, side by side, as partners, as friends, and perhaps, if we were lucky, as something more.

Wanda pulls you onto her lap after moving the pillow away. She pulls you into a tight hug and whispers, "I've been so tired recently. It's just...it's like this wave washing over me again and again. It knocks me down and when I try to stand up it just comes for me again and I can't-" you hear her voice cracking, her emotion shifting along with her aura as you rub her back. "It's just going to drown me." She confesses.

"No...no it's not..." you tell her.

"Yeah..." She lets out a dry chuckle and you pull back, letting your hands find her cheeks again. You stare into those deep green eyes full of sorrow and hope there comes a point where you can see them full of joy. You’ve only gotten small glimpses of happiness from Wanda and all you wanted was for those glimpses to last longer until there was no sorrow left. 

"No it won't, I won't let it. Not now. Not ever. Do you hear me Wanda?" You're searching her tear filled eyes to see if on any level she believes you because you could only hope that your words offered some solace to her feelings. All you wanted to do was take some of it away, even just a little so she wasn’t drowning anymore.

"How do you know?" Her voice is cracking and soft, it breaks you to hear her like this.

"Well it can't all be sorrow, can it?" She's searching your Y/E/C eyes now, your thoughts even. "Tell me. What is grief if not love persevering?" You ask, a small tilt to your head. Her dam finally breaks as she cries and you shush her, helping her through it. "I've got you Wanda. Always. I'll hold you above the waves. I'd let myself drown before I let it take you." You tell her softly. “I can help take some of it away, would you like that?” You ask her, her tear filled eyes looking up at you and nods ever so slightly, but still asks,

“Will it hurt?” Her voice cracks as you rub her cheeks with your thumbs, wiping the tears away.

“No darling it won’t it’ll make you feel lighter. I don’t do it often. Bad emotions are disgusting. I have to take them out of you and eat them which I’m sure sounds weird and I guess in a way it is, but for you I’ll do it.” She nods once again, clinging to you as you move your hand to her back, rubbing a gentle circle. You can feel the physical manifestation of the emotions pulling them apart from one another, only taking out the pain and grief, not all just enough. 

A black oobleck is pulled out threatening to slip through your fingers as Wanda pulls back to look. You use both your hands to keep it contained as you bring it to your mouth. You open your mouth as wide as you can, tongue sticking out as you let the gooey orb fall into your mouth and swallow. Your face contorts and a shiver goes through your body like when you take medicine you can’t stand. It tastes like vomit in the worst way possible and the main reason you tended not to do this. 

You feel Wanda cup your cheeks and murmur, “You’re okay.” and “Thank you.” As much as you hated it, you knew you’d do it as much as she needed. You lean in, placing your forehead against her own, nuzzling your faces together as you feel your cheeks dampen from her tears. 

“No more tears darling.” You whisper, feeling her smile against you. 

The two of you eventually make it up her bed, laying against her pillows, small soft kisses are peppered in between things. There are no more tears from Wanda through the night as the show continues playing as she falls asleep on your chest. 

As Wanda rested against you, her breathing steady and her grip on you relaxed, you couldn't help but feel a sense of peace wash over you. Despite the turmoil and uncertainty that surrounded you two, in this moment, all that mattered was the warmth of her body pressed against yours, the rhythm of her breaths lulling you into a state of calm.

You gently brushed a strand of hair away from her face, marveling at the serenity that seemed to radiate from her even in sleep. She had been through so much, faced unimaginable challenges and losses, yet here she was, still fighting, still clinging to hope.

And in that moment, you made a silent vow to yourself, to always be there for her, to be her anchor in the storm, to hold her above the waves no matter how fierce they may rage. Because Wanda was more than just a teammate or a friend—she was someone you cared deeply for, someone you would do anything to protect.

As the soft glow of the TV bathed the room in a gentle light, you closed your eyes and allowed yourself to drift off to sleep, knowing that no matter what tomorrow may bring, the two of you would face it together, united in our strength and our love. And as you held Wanda in your arms, you knew that as long as the two of you had each other, you could weather any storm that came your way.

[obaex]

dying to tell you - jj maybank

summary: after a normal beach day takes an unexpected turn, jj has something he needs to say.

word count: 3.7k

tw: 🦈

a/n: inspired by real events that happened to professional surfer mick fanning in 2015 - it is wild to watch!! (see above trigger warning before taking a peek!)

It was the perfect beach day.

You pulled off your flipflops and the bottom of your feet and your toes were tickled by the warm sand. You could hear the woosh of the waves rushing to meet the shore and receding again, a familiar melody. It was early, so the beach was quiet but for the waves and the occasional call of the seagulls flying overhead as the breeze kicked strands of your hair up around your face and made the seagrass in the dunes shake. You smiled to yourself - home for you was this place and the person next to you. You snuck a glance at JJ only to find the same smile on his face, his surfboard tucked under his arm. The beach, and its overwhelming sense of calm, peace, rightness was a love you both share. Your friends were running up ahead of you, dragging coolers, chairs and more surfboards, but the two of you hung back, walking side by side, enjoying the moment. JJ reached out and tangled his fingers lazily in yours and you squeezed back.

A few other locals dotted the shore and several surfers bobbed in the sizable waves. This part of the beach was a revered locals spot, tucked far enough away from the hotels and tourists to remain untouched by their noise and disruptions.

You helped set everything up before unfurling your large blanket, pulling off your clothes and collapsing on top if it, ready to spend the entire day squeezing every bit of sunshine and vitamin D you could into your skin. You loved the hot weather, the way the sun's rays baked ten times hotter off the glinting ocean, the way your skin would feel salty and sticky by the end of the day. You would live here if you could.

The boys were eager to get in the water, haphazardly chucking their backpacks and tearing off their shirts, John B and Pope making a beeline for the water as Kie chased after them yelling something about sunscreen, a lost cause. JJ eyed the water eagerly but his eyes wandered back to you, outstretched in his favorite bikini, the shape accentuating every curve of your body and the color amplifying your tan skin and bright eyes. He wrestled with his choice for only a second before flopping onto the blanket beside you, eyes glimmering mischievously as he reached for you. He couldn't keep his hands off of you on any day, but you looked so tantalizing he couldn't help himself as he pulled you into him and you giggled. His lips found yours and you were immediately lost in each other, lost to the world. Sarah took one look at you both and rolled her eyes. "Every time" she muttered to herself as she walked away to give you some semblance of privacy, wanting to be salty but secretly so stinking happy that the two of you finally got over the stolen glances and dancing around each other to go from friends to more than friends.

He tasted like peppermint from his toothpaste, salt and sunscreen as pushed his tongue in your mouth and you ran your fingers through his tangled blonde hair, a small involuntary moan escaping you at the feeling of his body crushed against yours, his muscular arms around you. JJ responded immediately, and without missing a beat, he lifted you off the blanket, and began walking back towards the Twinkie, never breaking your kiss. "JJ!" you laughed in surprise.

"Can't make noises like that without me wanting to do something absolutely indecent to you, sweetheart. M'taking you back to the Twinkie to spare everyone on this beach the show of a lifetime."

"We just got here!" you said, swatting him playfully on the shoulder. "The boys are waiting for you, we can pick this up later, promise." You pressed your lips to his cheek, sealing the deal.

With a resigned sigh, he placed you back on your feet in the sand, a mischievous smirk resting on his lips as his eyes searched your face, the flirtatious energy lingering but something deeper now running under the surface of his expression. He cupped your face, running a thumb gently over your cheek and his lips parted like he was going to say something. You looked at him inquisitively, unused to him being so serious. As he met your gaze, he stopped himself and smiled warmly. You wanted to ask, wanted to know what he was going to say, but as his lips found yours again, your brain scrambled.

You had been together for a few months but neither of you had said those three little words. Big words, really. You had felt them for a long time, longer than you'd even been together, but you were still trying to navigate this whole thing. Your feelings were overwhelmingly strong but what you had with him felt so special you didn't want to disrupt the balance. The words were on the tip of your tongue, dangerously close to spilling over, like your body's involuntary reaction to his proximity; when you fell asleep in each other's arms, each time you hung up the phone and every time he kissed you and then gave you that look, that smoldering, soul-crushing, heart-squeezing smirk that he was giving you now. And then he was off, peeling off his shirt, grabbing his board and running towards the water, leaving you breathless.

Kie and Sarah made their way back to you as JJ crashed into the waves. They shared knowing glances at you and made sneaky comments. They loved to tease you even though they were your biggest supporters. The boys could surf for hours and that was fine for the three of you, it gave you much needed girl time to catch up and discuss all the things the boys would roll their eyes at. You were comfortably seated in your chairs, facing the water and passing around fruit and snacks chatting idly as you watched the boys surf. They were spread far enough apart in the water to give each other opportunities to catch the waves. It amazed you to watch them surf. You didn't know a lot about surfing, but you knew JJ was good, very good. You could see it in his practiced confidence on the board and the ease with which he navigated each wave. You loved to see him so happy and in his element.

You had turned your attention back to Sarah's story when you heard a loud splash. You had been coming to the beach your whole life, your mind and body in tune with every kind of noise and this one was not one you had heard before. It wasn't the splash of the waves, the splash of children playing, the splash of a surfer at the end of their run, this was loud, aggressive... foreboding. Your eyes scanned the water fast enough to see JJ seated and bobbing alone on his board, his back to you as he faced the oncoming waves before his head snapped back to look behind him as a large fin crested the water.

You were on your feet before you knew what was happening. It was probably only seconds but it felt like a lifetime, like one of those dreams you have when you're running but don't actually go anywhere, your feet pounding the sand, your lungs burning as you shouted for John B and Pope, JJ never leaving your sight. JJ's eyes found yours momentarily before the large fin resurfaced and he got knocked off of his board and you couldn't see him anymore.

JJ didn’t think he could ask for a more perfect day as he bobbed in the waves, feet dangling in the cool water beneath his board. In fact, ever since he had gotten the courage to tell you how he really felt, heavily aided by beer, his friends, and an unrelenting pounding in his chest every time you were close to him, it was like his life had gotten exponentially better.

He stared into middle space as he ran his thumb over his lips, deep in thought at the feeling of yours pressed against them, and reveled in the fact that he could still taste you. He didn’t know how he went without you for so long, now he couldn’t get enough. He loved you. He knew he did, and he’d almost said it to you. Today, and about a hundred times now, including the night he first confessed his feelings. He knew it then. He’d known it for awhile. In truth, he was dying to tell you, dying to get it off his chest. He almost word-vomited it on a daily basis, when you curled into his chest as you fell asleep, every time you scrunched your nose and bit your lip when you were focusing, the way you looked at him when he kissed you, eyes glazed with desire for him. Goddddd, he thought. But a part of him was still insecure. What did he ever do to deserve you? In what realm of possibility could you love him back? He was deep in thought when heard a loud splash behind him that snapped him back to reality as chills ran down his spine.

He knew before he saw the fin. He had been in the water when other surfers spotted sharks, and he John B and Pope did occasionally get that unexplainable sense of foreboding that pulled them out of the water, the intangible surfer’s sense that something simply wasn’t right and the risk wasn’t worth it. That feeling washed so quickly over him now that it felt like someone had poured a bucket of ice water over his head. He turned to see a large fin breaking the water behind his board as a dark shape moved beneath him, and that’s when he heard you. He turned to see you running towards the water and met your eyes just as the dark shape crested the waves and he was knocked off his board, into darkness.

John B saw you running towards the water and his first instinct was to laugh. You weren't unathletic but he'd never seen you move that fast before. He'd wanted to laugh until he heard the tone of your voice as you called his name. It wasn't joking, it wasn't fun, it was pure terror and his brain began piecing the puzzle together as he saw Sarah and Kie running towards other people on the beach, calling them out of the water and as you pointed desperately at JJ. John B turned his head quickly enough to see his best friend, the one person that had been there through every high and every low alongside him get knocked off his board by a tailfin as a large shape loomed in the water and he crashed into the sea.

He could hear Pope shouting at him but his heart was pounding and the blood rushing in his head made everything sound like he was underwater. Pope was paddling towards the shore.

"We have to help him!" John B cried, his voice high-pitched with emotion, knowing already that their efforts would be fruitless. What were they supposed to do? As far away as he was, he was already shaking as he tucked his own limbs onto his board, like this thin piece of fiberglass would do anything to protect him. He had seen the size of that shark, they were fucked.

JJ swam quickly to the surface, his body pulsing with fear, trying to get a sense of his surroundings, wanting to know what was around him but terrified to find out at the same time. He crested the surface, searching for his board, for any lifeline before deciding it didn't matter and he needed to get the fuck out of there. He began swimming strongly towards the shore, but panicked at the idea of the shark attacking him from behind so he stopped and turned around, frantically searching the water around him, kicking his legs and trying to swim backwards. He couldn't see a thing. He was hyperventilating and as he tried to suck in deep breaths water filled his mouth, causing him to cough. He continued to swim backwards, his eyes never leaving the dark water.

You had never felt as helpless in your entire life as you did standing on that beach, screaming, screaming for JJ, for John B, for Pope, for God, for anyone to intervene as your eyes searched the water for him, stomach roiling and mind churning with the worst possible outcomes. When you saw his head emerge from the waves, you began to run into the water.

"What are you doing?!" Kie shouted, exasperated as she threw her arms around you to pull you back.

"I have to go! I have to get to him!" you shouted back, trying to wrench yourself from her grip as you gestured to the waves. Wasn't if obvious? JJ needed you. Your whole heart was out there alone, bobbing in the water alongside an eight-foot shark. You wrestled in her arms, eyes never leaving the water as you watched him swim, heart catching each time a wave crested and you momentarily lost sight of him. He looked okay? Could that be possible? Was the universe that good? That he could look death in the face and still come back to you? Suddenly he stopped swimming for the shore and turned around, looking back in the murky depths, trying to backpedal, to backstroke. Did he see something? Was it coming back?

John B and Pope caught up to you both and Sarah put her arms tightly around John B as you watched. The group was stone silent.

Finally, it was too much for you, you shoved Kie off of you and sprinted into the water despite her shouts and the gasps of the crowd that had gathered. You were about waist-deep in the rough current, getting rocked by each wave when JJ finally turned to see you standing there, wading towards him.

"N-NO!" he shouted, motioning you back, moving as quickly as he could to force you back into shallower water, but his limbs were sluggish and tired and the current tugged him deeper. "GET OUT OF THE WATER!" He shouted, surprised at the anger and fear in his voice. You jumped slightly at that, never having been the object of JJ's anger before, but you didn't listen, you didn't care. You needed to know he was okay more than you needed to be okay yourself. You met him in chest-high water, your body crashing into his. He held you tightly, he wanted to enjoy this moment, but his brain and his body were still tightly wound in survival mode as he tugged you forward with him, needing to get you to safety, needing to know you were okay more than he needed to be okay. He wouldn't feel good about that until you were both firmly on dry land. When you were in ankle deep water, your friends converged on you, pulling you both into a hug as the small crowd that had gathered clapped and cheered, murmuring with disbelief at what had just occurred.

Everything thereafter was a blur. The beach day was over, no one wanting to spend any more time here after what had happened. Your friends buzzed around you, packing up the coolers and chairs and walking back to the Twinkie. You didn't leave JJ's side, didn't bother getting dressed or picking up your blanket, you stayed tucked into him, with his arms wrapped around you and he couldn't have been more grateful for the feeling of your body pressed to his, grounding him, a constant reminder that he was safe. The car ride home was mostly silent, the radio scratching in the background as JJ sat hunched over, his head in his hands, your head on his shoulder. You caught John B's eyes in the rearview mirror from his spot in the front seat, where he shared a brief, knowing smile with you. He's here, he's with us, it said. It's going to be okay, and I'm glad he has you.

By the time you got back to the chateau the mood was shifting slightly. There was still a heaviness in the air, thick with all that could have been, but the fog was parting and JJ couldn't stand the tension anymore. "I'm sensing a real heavy vibe right now" he said jokingly. "I don't know about y'all but I could use a fucking drink" and with that everyone cheered and his face lit up in a smile.

The night passed in typical pogue fashion with beers around the bonfire. Everyone was eager to shed the events of the day and relax, yourself included. You joined in on the fun but kept one eye trained on JJ, tracing his every move with your gaze. You told yourself it was to make sure he was okay, but a part of you couldn't stop staring, afraid that if you looked away for too long he would disappear again under a dark wave. He hadn't left your side, a hand resting on your thigh, an arm around your shoulders or tugging you to sit on his lap. He was always handsy with you, but this felt different, like you were a lifeline, a buoy he didn't want to let go of. You were in his lap, your head resting against his with his arms around you, his fingers tracing patters on your leg when he nuzzled into your ear, pressing a kiss along your jaw. "Hammock?" he whispered and you nodded, smiling as you hopped off his lap and the two of you made your way to the secluded spot amidst catcalls and whistles from your friends.

He settled into the swinging fabric first, holding it steady for you to crawl in to lay beside him. Your bodies fit perfectly together as the hammock swung gently back and forth, your head tucked into his neck, your arm around his chest. You felt him breath a deep sigh as his arms tugged you impossibly closer to him and he planted a kiss on your head. You turned to look at him and met his eyes, midnight blue in the starlight as he looked down at you.

"Are you okay?" you whispered. A simple question that had ten other questions behind it.

He nodded sincerely but didn't say anything. You had been hoping for more. Hoping to talk to him about this. If he wasn't going to say anything, you were going to have to break the silence.

"Jayj, I-I was really scared" you said, your voice quivering a little as you spoke. "I'm so glad you're okay. All I could think as I watched you out there was what I was going to do if something happened to you, I was out of my mind."

"I gathered that when you were sprinting into shark infested water while everyone was running out of it" he said, smirking as he pinched your arm playfully. You could tell he was trying to lighten the mood and that maybe he didn't want to talk about this, but you didn't want to talk about it with anyone else, you didn't think they'd understand.

"I'm serious, JJ. I guess I don't know how to explain it, I don't have the words for it. It was more than just the idea of not being able to reach you, of losing you, it was the idea of all the things we wouldn't get to do together. Like never having another bonfire night or taking a ride on your bike, or w-waking up in your arms or g-getting to k-kiss you or --" you could have kept going but your tears bubbled over and JJ's heart broke at the sight of you unravelling in his arms. He was holding himself together as best he could and he knew you were too.

"C'mere pretty girl, it's okay, I'm okay" he said as he wrapped you deeper in his arms and your tears left wet marks on his shirt.

"I'm sorry Jayj" you said, trying to collect yourself. "I know I'm probably blowing this out of proportion--" and hearing you apologize was the last straw.

"-- You're not" he said softly. "I felt the exact same way." He sighed. He didn't want to relive it, like maybe if you didn't talk about it, you could pretend it never happened.

"Really?" you asked.

"100%" he replied. "When I turned and saw you before I got knocked off my board all I could think is how far away you were and what I would have to do to get back to you. I was going to wrestle that thing if I needed to." You both laughed at that. "But for real, I know what you mean, I had the same thoughts. Even though I was absolutely shitting myself, it was like flashes in my head of you and all the things I still wanted to do and experience together... all the things I should have said..." he paused and fidgeted a little.

"Hey, look at me" he said finally, putting a finger gently under your chin and tilting it towards him. He smiled and met your eyes, wiping a tear off your cheek. "If I was shark bait today, my biggest regret would have been not telling you how I felt, how I feel. I-I love you. A lot. A whole hell of a lot. I have since before we were together. You're the first thing I think about in the morning and my last thought before bed. You're the girl of my damn dreams Y/N and I never want to do life without you. You're it for me, gorgeous. Full stop. No one else." He said it with more confidence than he felt as it came pouring out of him, relieved to finally have it off of his chest.

Now he was desperately trying to read your response. She's smiling, that's a good thing, right?

Yes, you were smiling. Grinning from ear to ear as you listened to the boy of your dreams absolutely gushing over you. You were speechless for a moment, grasping at the words to say, words you'd wanted to say for so long.

"I love you too" you said finally, "So much, JJ" you were able to eke out before he crushed his lips to yours.

ps: sharks are friends and are so important to our ecosystem and our lil' planet! you are more likely to get bit by another human than you a shark (fact), more likely to die from ants, elephants, hotdogs and texting than a shark attack (also fact), and they only bite because they are curious, they do not want to eat you (also fact). so, be kind, be respectful, support sharks. #endrant

taglist: @ietss, @gillybear17, @palmwinemami, @sweetestdesire, @softcoremaybank, @m-indkiller, @maybankslover, @sickyrat

[arminreindl]

"Paleontology can be really petty and stupid"

In 1898 Santiago Roth discovered the armored tail of a large turtle in Patagonia, which he showed to British paleontologist A.S. Woodward. Recognizing it as the remains of a meiolaniid, Roth was told to go on an expedition to find more material, which he did. This material, which included an almost fully preserved skull, was initially published on in a brief communication in 1899.

Strangely, also in 1899, Florentino Ameghino published his own communication claiming that his brother Carlos had found the almost fully preserved skull of that same kind of turtle, a meiolaniid he dubbed Niolamia argentina.

It is curious how both Ameghino and Roth seem to have found the exact same material of a meiolaniid in different localities at the same time, but weirder things have happened. Tho it is further pretty weird how Ameghino rushed to get a name out, but didn't bother describing what defined the animal nor designated a holotype. Hell he didn't even illustrate his skull. But lets give him some time.

Two years pass, its 1901 now. Woodward publishes a proper description of Roth's skull, illustrating the animal in detail. Having heard that Ameghino found a remarkably similar fossil, Woodward assigns the Roth skull to the same species as the Ameghino skull. Although he doesn't carry over the genus Niolamia, instead placing the fossils in Miolania (a misspelling of Meiolania, described a few years prior from Australia). Ameghino didn't seem to mind or disagree, tho he still hadn't properly described nor figured his skull.

1938: Ameghino is dead at this point and weirdly, his Niolamia skull is still nowhere to be found. Since his initial description was wholy insufficient, George Gaylord Simpson (yes thats his actual name) decides to declare the Roth skull the type specimen for Niolamia (the neoptype). Meaning that the genus is now defined on this skull rather than the one Ameghino had when coining the name.

Fast forward to 2011. It is now generally accepted that Roth's skull is the fossil that defines what Niolamia is. Of course Ameghino still gets credit, after all he described the first remains, even tho nobody has ever seen those...ever really. Over a 100 years passed and far as anyone could tell, the last person to have seen those bones were Ameghino and his brother, after which they just disappeared. But we still got the Roth skull, and Juliana Sterli and Marcelo de la Fuente could readily redescribe Niolamia based on that.

But Sterli seems to suspect that something very fishy is going on. Remember, Ameghino just happened to find a perfectly preserved skull at the same time as Roth did. Ameghino made sure to get a name out before Woodward got around to fully describe it. Ameghino only vaguely compared the skull to Meiolania, but didn't specify its unique features nor did he actually illustrate his material. So Sterli said out loud what I'm sure many people must have been thinking. "Did Ameghino just make it all up?"

In 2015 Sterli comments on the matter by noting how awfully convenient the whole situation was. Although no concrete evidence exists, Sterli suggests that Ameghino may have found out about Roth's skull, lied about having found a similar one, and named Niolamia not on a fossil he actually had but based on what little he knew about Roth's discovery.

This is just a basic summary of a rabbit hole I recently went into and my god its so frustrating on so many levels. Again we don't have concrete evidence that Ameghino's skull didn't actually exist, but the way the timing lined up and the fact that he was in a feude with Francisco Moreno, which has been likened to an Argentinian Bone War, means that this suggestion isn't that out there. It really doesn't help that his supposed skull was only ever mentioned by him in 1899 and never again. Ameghino never claimed it was destroyed or stolen, hell, far as I could find he even agreed with Woodwards research.

What's also fascinating is that seemingly, for over a hundred years, nothing was written in scientific literature casting doubt over his claim. I'm sure some people must have called bullshit on him in private, but the only resource I could find that actually goes as far as to say "Hey isn't his weird that the Ameghino skull is basically a phantom" came out in 2015. Everything in-between seemed content with just assuming that Ameghino and Roth both had skulls and just never followed up on whatever happened to the former. Then again I could just as much understand if people just didn't want to deal with this nightmare of a backstory.

[transman-badass]

Which Image - A Chzo Mythos fanfic

Title comes from the song Witch Image by the band Ghost. If there's interest I'll write more and explain to my followers what this game series is.

Apologies to the people who wanted to be tagged in this, Tumblr isn't recognizing your urls. I'll try to tag in a reblog. Also apologies to the British if my American ass screwed things up. I'll make edits as needed.

London, 2015

In between the crackling thunder, a young man screamed in agony, sweet as the music of a harpsichord.

Footsteps pounded like the rain through the stolen, repurposed corpse of a building. An office, once, now a shell like any other mortal body. Down the many stairs the footsteps carried, sneakers squeaking wet on dirty tile. Down the stairs and through the halls, she ran.

Why the persistence? Too late, far too late, to save her friend. But the young woman resisted the obvious. Dark of hair and pure of heart, he could not harm her yet. He watched the sweat drip down her warm brown skin, how she brushed the strands of hair from her face. Standing, kneeling, struggling, suffering.

He watched and he wondered. Yes, he did wonder.

It'd been a strange choice, to offer up an American for a sacrifice, but Chzo was not a picky god. This young woman could not have looked more different from her light-haired friend. But in her eyes, a desperate fire burned, and looking away proved a challenge.

That fire… She reminded him of someone. How distasteful.

Of course, of course, too late for her friend. She opened the door to strangers standing over the remains. Of course, of course, too late for her. The cult would spare her, when they caught her, he would ensure it…

They did not catch her.

They did not even notice her, too consumed with their own escape. The Ministry agents closed in, fortune smiling upon them once again. She fled, they fled, and it had all gone wrong.

He could've been furious.

He could've been.

Instead, he stood upon the old building, his shadow stretching long in the light flashing overhead. He stood, and he watched her race into the darkness, her parcel, their parcel, clutched to her frail body.

He watched, and yes, yes he wondered.

She reminded him of someone… Cabadath wasn't sure he liked that.

It'd been almost twelve hours before anyone realized the girl was gone. Far too late to save her life. The Order of Blessed Agonies worked fast. But so did Trilby.

The Order must've been desperate to prey on tourists. They had to have known who they were choosing. The accents on these kids weren't subtle. Five of them came overseas on spring holiday, bright eyed and oblivious. Three headed home tonight. The other two would follow in coffins.

“Trilby,” one of his supervisors said, “I know what you're thinking. Don't put yourself at risk to try and save this kid.”

“I'm already at risk,” he'd said. “What's a little more?”

“We need you alive - and so do they.”

And that was the thing, wasn't it? The Order wouldn't keep this girl, this Jillian Taylor Cortez, alive, but he couldn't say they'd do the same with him. Damned prophecies…

Her name was Jillian Taylor Cortez. She just turned 19. Mexican-American mother, British father. Got her middle name because the latter died before she was born, so said her friends.

She looked nothing like Simone Taylor. If she had, Trilby might've lost it again.

Twelve hours, they found the boy, or what was left of him. They'd followed the muddy footprints from the ground floor all the way to the altar. Trilby followed them back up, frowning. Pretended he didn't see the glances between the ones around him.

He had a hunch.

Just a hunch, but he'd been doing this for almost twenty years now. Just a hunch, he'd say later… but he'd been right before.

“Don't you dare!” Someone shouted at his back. “Damn it, Trilby! Get back here! It's not worth it!”

He ignored them, ignored the rain soaking his suit. Wasn't breaking the rules if nobody up top told you not to. Besides, he was just following a hunch. Just giving a quick check around the buildings. No harm in that.

No harm on her, when he caught her dead center in the light of his torch.

He stared at her and she stared right back, her eyes wide and hollow. The rain soaked her right through, plastering clothes to skin and hair to her cheeks. The bow in her hair, half undone. The fear in her eyes, too painful, too real.

Trilby raised a hand.

“Jill-”

She bolted.

“Wait! No!”

Trilby followed.

The kid knew how to run. Ran through the streets like the world was ending. Trilby kept up. He wasn't young anymore, he'd feel it for the next few days, but he kept up. So did the rain.

Only took a few wrong turns. She didn't know anything about the area - neither did he, to be fair. Was only a little bit of a surprise to find themselves in another alley, to come across the fence blocking their way. Was a very big surprise when the girl ran right for it.

“Jillian!” He shouted over the thunder. “Jill!”

Did she even hear him? She didn't stop. Lunged for the fence, one hand grasping the chain link metal. Trilby moved faster than her.

He grabbed her around the waist. She screamed. They both hit the ground, he let her go and she scrambled backwards. He shifted, sat up, looked her in the face again.

Terrified eyes, wide and wild. It wasn't just the rain soaking her cheeks, the spring weather shuddering her shoulders.

Trilby raised his hands.

“Jillian,” he said. “It's alright, Jill. I'm with the Ministry of Occultism. We're here to help you. I can't believe you're still alive…”

She breathed. She held the book in her arms tight. Book? He looked down at it. Heavy, large, leather bound. Some kind of writing on the cover.

Oh my God, he thought. Did she steal that from the Order?

Trilby looked up to her face again. Her eyes locked onto something over his shoulder.

Trilby jerked out of the way. The blade buried into the ground he'd stood moments before. Trilby moved, backed away as far as he could go, the blood draining from his face.

“Oh, hell,” Trilby said.

The featureless face of the Prince of Pain tilted towards him. Cabadath had not changed at all in the last twenty years. Bone chilling, even after all these years and all their meetings. Still ever the same, nine feet tall and dressed in black, the rain coursing down his long coat and leaving the fabric dry. The Prince straightened in slow motions, raising the four pronged scythe and resting it by his side.

Still the Prince stared at him, though he had no eyes to do so. He raised a hand and pointed to the girl.

Jill. She'd gotten out of the way just in time. Trilby couldn't risk looking away from the Prince for longer than an instant, Cabadath moved too fast, but she still breathed, standing against the fence. Her eyes, still wild, locked onto the terror between them.

Had Cabadath been chasing her too? The Prince had powers like no human ever could. Hallucinations were a favorite, Trilby knew that from experience.

The Prince waited.

Trilby took a breath.

“Jillian,” he said. “Give him the book.”

She did not move but her whole body shuddered with her breath.

“He's playing nice right now,” Trilby said, eyes locked on the Prince, “but he doesn't have to. You don't know what he's fully capable of, you've just seen part of it.”

Jillian did not move.

“There's nothing in that book that can help you,” Trilby said. “You don't want to get involved with this more than you have been. I don't know how you got it, but you need to give it back. Before he takes it from you.”

Her body shuddered. Jillian blinked, hard. The Prince did not move. He did not look away.

Her arms unlocked. She took another deep, shuddering breath. Holding the book in careful hands, she laid it upon the ground at her feet, and stepped away. And away. And away.

Trilby watched the Prince. He did not notice where the young woman moved to, until she stopped. Stopped between him and Cabadath, facing the Prince, her arms stretched out as if she could protect Trilby from the monster watching them.

Protect him from Cabadath. He wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or cry at the thought.

The Prince tilted his head. His gaze shifted towards the girl. Trilby placed a hand on Jillian’s shoulder. Cabadath’s shoulders shook, as if in silent laughter. But of course, no sound came from the Tall Man. They were not worth the effort.

Turning away from the mortals, Cabadath stepped toward the book. He knelt, and with one long free hand, picked it up. Turning fully back towards the two humans, he bowed a mocking thanks. Trilby set his teeth, held Jill's shoulder as she flinched.

As the Prince straightened, he vanished. The rain poured down over them and the tension disappeared from Trilby's body. Cabadath truly was gone. For now.

Jillian sobbed.

Trilby's focus snapped to her again. Shit.

“Jill?”

She placed her hand over her mouth as the sobs shook her body.

“Cal,” she whispered the name of her friend. “Cal, I'm sorry.”

He couldn't think of anything to say. Trilby wrapped an arm around her and pulled out his phone with the other. How long had it been ringing?

“Yeah?” He said. “Yeah, I'm alright. Yeah, we're both okay. I found the girl, she's alive. It's… it's a long story. I'll explain everything back at headquarters.”

Trilby held the young woman against his body as he led her back into the light. He glanced uneasy at the roofs above them, expecting a tall shadow staring down, but only the rain waited overhead, the drops falling down between her tears.

[demigoddessqueens]

One more set of song asks. Same drill as before. Y/N reader and CR Bois

You got it!! 🫡

A/n - and you need to send me a happy request after this 😀 cause these were so sad

Masterlist 10

Vax looks at you and is so infatuated. Honestly he didn’t think he would be with anyone such as yourself despite the back and forth between him and Vex.

Will you or won’t you?

For the longest time, he believed that mantra too. It was so obvious how much you two cared for each other, but Vax knew his heart was more in it for you.

Defying Death one too many times and being tied to the Matron due tend to put a damper on the intimacy he craved to cultivate with you, but Vax was nothing if not determined.

Small confessions, stolen glances and kisses, moments stolen alone with you. If it wasn’t all in, at least it was a chance to be with you in this lifetime.

Even when you clung to him with tears in both of your eyes, Vax never had regrets for a second. No moment was ever too late if it was you.

If he could be given the chance again to be part of your admiration and affection, he would ask for it all over again.

[mikuchan]

Writing Patterns

rules: share the first line of your last ten published works or as many as you are able and see if there are any patterns!

I was tagged by @udaberriwrites 😊

⟡

when light is put away (BG3)

She did good. She knows this. 

2. kisses from sun to snow (BG3)

It’s early September, barely fall, but the coffee’s intensely autumnal: cinnamon, nutmeg, pumpkin, so sweet it stabs her throat as she swallows. 

3. A House Divided (BG3)

Minthara Baenre prides herself on never being surprised. She’s always eight steps ahead of everything and everyone. 

the eight steps ahead is a spider reference, btw. but because of that it's also a Homestuck reference

4. Something to Play For (BG3)

“You have an odd sense of humor,” Alfira frowns. “This really isn’t funny.”

5. Like the Green Fig Tree (BG3)

Footsteps on stone: flagstone of Moonrise, rough stone of the Shadowfell. Isobel’s eyes are bright in the moonlight. Aylin leans over the balcony, wings keeping her lazily aloft. A fig tree sways gently overhead.

6. Such Devastation (FFXIV)

“The Heart of Sabik.” The words fall from stolen lips, and the discordance is unholy. His tone, his words, all scream of Lahabrea, but the voice is not his own. It enrages her. “It is the Weapon’s core – an enigma whose surface even the vaunted scholars of ancient Allag failed to scratch.”

7. A Spider's Lyre (BG3)

She joins them after her sham of a trial at Moonrise Towers. They wipe out her captors and pull her from the very claws of death, offering her not only safe haven in their camp but a space within their ranks, and Minthara seizes the opportunity. 

8. Forging a New Pact (or Trying To, Anyway) (BG3)

You could feel it building. All the pain and pleasure of the Hells, all the lust and torment, suffusing every inch of your body until your nerves were on fire and a deep, aching need was throbbing from inside you. Mizora whispered behind you, breath hot against your ear, your hair, your neck; her body brushed yours, and you could feel that unlike your bare self, she was still fully dressed. You groaned, tried to step back and grind against her, touch her, relieve some of this dizzying, hellish need – but she danced away each time, laughing at your frustration. 

So I only have eight works on my AO3, but I also have an ancient Fanfiction dot net that's fun to look at sometimes

9. 15 Days (Once Upon a Time) 2015

Henry, her son, her baby, the Believer, falls to the floor, apple pastry tumbling from his suddenly pallid fingers. Emma screams his name, then again, and again, each time with more panic, a higher pitch.

10. 16 Tiny Nooses (Hunger Games) 2013

It really started with Mags and Annie. Naturally anyone from District 4 was predisposed to be good with knots and ropes and nets and stringy tangly things like that, and from there, knitting was just a hop, skip, and jump away.

⟡

My openers have definitely gotten shorter as I've gone on. I almost never open with dialogue, which is kind of interesting. Both times that I do are pulling from canon lines, too.

I also have a habit of not immediately using names (or using someone else's name first). This is mostly intentional, since I think it adds some fun tension.

It is fun to look at the decade old stuff and see what patterns stayed or dropped. I got better at cutting up my sentences (the Aylin fic was specifically working on this lol) to fix flow and avoid insane run-ons. I still overuse rule-of-three.

I'm tagging: @optiwashere, @roughlytwentytwofrogs, @gaeldricge, @hanktalkin :) and anyone else who might want to do it!

[thatonebirdwrites]

Chapter 1 was Lena's Tale. Now we see how Lena is rescued and view Kara's Tale. I really wanted to dig deeply into Kara's trauma and grief for this chapter. Hopefully I showed that and her alien nature well. This was technically meant to be part of the first chapter, but that got too long, so I cut them into separate chapters. I decided to go ahead and post this instead of waiting too much longer. I'm eager to hear y'all's thoughts.

EXCERPT:

Kara Zor El sees Lex fall. Sees how he refuses to let her save him. How his hatred consumes all reason. She sees him collide with the ground. It breaks something in her. Her rule to never kill, and here she fails that one rule. His fall is due to her hand.

She thinks of Lena, who fought so hard to escape the Luthors. And yet it inevitably came to this final showdown, where Kara risks everything to stop Lex and protect Lena. The one person who doesn’t deserve this. She closes her eyes and whispers part of the Kryptonian prayer for the dead.

Lex isn’t Kryptonian, but she can amend it so it fits a more human background. It is something her and her parts devised after each death they fail to rescue.

It is inevitable, Red Daughter’s thoughts pierce her own. The newer part invokes a shiver of pain around Kara's mind at the intrusion. Alex does not stop.

It’s still not okay. How will Lena take it? Kara Zor El hates the thought of hurting her favorite person, especially like this.

Red Daughter has no words for that. During the fight with Lex, the Supergirl clone had merged with Kara, fracturing her carefully integrated mind yet again. But even absorbed as she was, Red Daughter does not hold the memories of Lena’s light in Kara’s life. Her only frame of reference is Lex’s words and the journal she stole from Kara Danvers. It'll mean another session with Brainy and J'onn, to help integrate Red Daughter into her system.

When she opens her eyes, the crater where Lex fell looks strange. Kara Zor El flies closer, and a dread eats through her. Odd scorch marks line its edges, but there is no sign of Lex’s suit. No crumpled metal, which if an object at high velocity impacted and exploded, there would be debris.

She lands baffled. “Alex,” she says as she taps her ear mic. “I think Lex escaped.”

“What? That’s impossible." Alex snaps, her stress masked by anger. Between the fight with Lex and the prior one where Red Daughter temporarily killed Kara — she still wonders at the use of sunlight to jump-start her heart. Alex said only that Lena made the device ages ago — both Alex and herself are exhausted. "He had no jets, no power left. There’s no way he’d survive that fall.”

Kara-Z takes a breath to steady her nerves. She will not let anger overtake her. It is not her at which Alex fumes but Lex. “That was my assessment, but there’s no sign of the debris. Unless he vaporized right when he hit the ground, he must have activated portal tech. We know prototypes of it were stolen during Mercy's attack on L-Corp. Do you think Lex miniaturized it?”

“Let me ask Brainy.”

Brainy clips into their channel. “Yes, I calculate a 99 percent chance he miniaturized it. I am doing a sweep of the area for the signals originating from the suit. It would still give off heat signatures due to the nature of your fight.”

It’s the best they can do. Kara-Z closes her eyes and focuses on her superhearing. She sorts through the overwhelming barrage of noise and zeros in on the heartbeats of her loved ones. That source of comfort keeps her mind still.

Alex and Brainy are safe at their meeting point. Dreamer and J’onn are rescuing the aliens at the power plant with Guardian and an DEO team. Kelly is at her apartment. Lena — where is Lena? She can’t hear her anywhere.

Fear clenches Kara-Z’s stomach. In the rush to stop Lex, Kara isn't entirely certain where Lena went. Her Danvers self had dealt with that conversation, and there hasn't been time to meditate and fuse each's memories into one timeline.

“I must check on Lena,” she tells Alex. Before her sister can protest, she blasts toward the upper layers of the atmosphere. There it is easier to hear far beyond her usual range. Ice forms on the suit and her hair. She stops and closes her eyes.

Still nothing. No, Lena cannot be dead. Kara’s heart constricts, and a rising panic grips her.

Think, Друг-Я, Red Daughter says, using the Russian for ‘friend-self.’ Does not lead hide signals?

Right. Lead definitely would. Hope blooms. She still has a chance to find Lena.

Meditation and mind curating were skills taught to her on Krypton, honed in the temples, utilized in the endless void of the Phantom Zone, and perfected under J’onn’s guiding hand. The safe space in her mind is a garden on Argo, full of her favorite plants and creatures. There her Danvers self rests, and only rouses when Kara-Z imagines herself gently touching her other self's shoulder.

Danvers, I need your knowledge. Where did Lena go?

Zor El? Kara-D’s thought is laced with uncertainty and worry. Sure, yeah, I'll share the memory, but you're not going to like it. I really did try to stop her.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

David Horsey

* * * *

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

June 11, 2024

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

JUN 12, 2024

“We’re producing more energy than ever before in this nation. We have the strongest economy in the world, and we are beating China for the first time in decades. More people went to work this morning in America than at any other time in our nation’s history. So I’ve got a message to Donald Trump and all his negativity and his whining: Stop sh*t talking America. This is the greatest country on earth, and it’s time that we all start acting like it.”

Pennsylvania governor Josh Shapiro’s words to Jen Psaki on MSNBC yesterday illustrated that Democrats are flipping the script on the MAGA Republicans. 

Since he decided to run for president in 2015, almost exactly nine years ago, Trump’s narrative has been that the United States is in terrible decline and that only he can “make America great again.” In his speech announcing his candidacy on that June day in 2015, he claimed that “our country is in serious trouble” and complained that China, Japan, and Mexico were all “beating” the U.S. and “laughing at us, at our stupidity…. The U.S. has become a dumping ground for everybody else’s problems,” he said before launching into the idea that Mexico was sending criminals and rapists across the border. “Our enemies are getting stronger and stronger…, and we as a country are getting weaker,” he said. “Even our nuclear arsenal doesn’t work.”

Trump claimed—falsely—that the nation’s gross domestic product was below zero, that the labor participation rate was “the worst since 1978,” that unemployment was between 18 and 20 percent, and that while Obamacare was “amazingly destructive,” he would replace it with something cheaper and better. 

Trump continued this theme of decline and what he called “American carnage” in his inaugural address. He described “[m]others and children trapped in poverty in our inner cities; rusted-out factories scattered like tombstones across the landscape of our Nation; an education system, flush with cash, but which leaves our young and beautiful students deprived of all knowledge; and the crime and the gangs and the drugs that have stolen too many lives and robbed our country of so much unrealized potential.”

Trump initially seemed to blame inept politicians and bureaucrats for what he claimed was America’s decline, assuring the audience at his 2015 campaign announcement: “Well, you need somebody, because politicians are all talk, no action. Nothing’s gonna get done. They will not bring us—believe me—to the promised land. They will not.” But when then–FBI director James Comey refused to drop the investigation into the relationship between Russian operatives and the 2016 Trump campaign, Trump and his loyalists began to warn of a secretive “deep state” that was working to undermine Trump and, with him, the nation. 

Trump’s narrative that he is the true defender of the United States, under attack by dark forces, maps beautifully over white evangelical narratives of religious decline. Trump continued that storyline even after voters turned him out of the White House, insisting that a nefarious conspiracy of Democrats, undocumented immigrants, and foreigners stole the election from him. 

The House Select Committee to Investigate the January 6th Attack on the U.S. Capitol estimated that Trump raised $250 million in donations from supporters for an “election defense fund” to pay the legal fees to overturn the results of the 2020 election. But the Trump team never actually set up that fund. Instead, the money went to the Save America political action committee founded and controlled by Trump, and from there the money went to Trump loyalists and pro-Trump organizations.

And therein lies a key reason for Trump’s story of an apocalyptic America: describing the nation as a hellhole that only he can fix also maps over a common pattern of American grifters. So long as supporters send him money, he claims, they will be able to defend the country against dark forces: communists, Marxists, atheists, immigrants, pedophiles, feminists—just what the dark forces are matters far less than that they are a foil for the grifter. 

When Trump made that argument in 2015, it was not all that far-fetched. Economists estimate that the supply-side economics of the past 40 years had shifted $50 trillion dollars from the bottom 90% of Americans to the top 1%, hollowing out the middle class. Schools had been chronically underfunded, and the opioid epidemic, which began in 1999, was claiming more than 10,000 Americans a year (a number that has continued to rise ever since). And by weaponizing the filibuster and gerrymandering states, Republicans had made it extraordinarily difficult for Congress to accomplish anything that would address these issues.

When Biden took office, he was in the unusual position of signing executive orders to establish policies that were not unpopular, like Trump‘s, but that were extraordinarily popular. This began the process of showing that the government could, in fact, represent the people. 

Then, thanks to the election of Georgia senators Raphael Warnock and Jon Ossoff in a runoff election on January 6, 2021—that was the seismic shift of January 6, 2021, that is often forgotten—the Democrats continued to demonstrate that the government could work for the people. They passed the American Rescue Plan to shore up the U.S. economy after the pandemic shutdowns, the Bipartisan Infrastructure Act to rebuild roads and bridges and improve broadband access, the CHIPS and Science Act to promote semiconductor manufacturing, the Inflation Reduction Act to invest in climate change mitigation and permit the government to negotiate with pharmaceutical companies over drug prices, and the Bipartisan Safer Communities Act to close loopholes in gun purchases.  

Those changes have created a roaring economy with an unemployment rate that has just last month ticked up to 4% after 27 months below that number, with wages growing faster than the inflation that plagued the U.S.—and the world—after the pandemic eased. The highest wage growth has gone to the lowest earners, helping to cut the nation’s extreme wealth inequality.

That booming economy might be partly what’s behind another significant change: for all that Trump and MAGA Republicans still talk about Democratic cities as hellholes, the FBI yesterday released a report showing that violent crime in fact dropped by more than 15% in the U.S. during the first three months of 2024.  As Jim Sciutto of CNN pointed out today, “Murders fell 26.4% and rapes decreased by 25.7%. Aggravated assaults decreased by 12.5%, according to the data, robberies fell 17.8%.” In his own assessment, Biden attributed those dropping numbers to “putting more cops on the beat, holding violent criminals accountable, and getting illegal guns off the street.” 

On June 1, top sports talk host Colin Cowherd anticipated Shapiro’s pro-American stance when he pushed back on the Republican idea that the country is a dystopian nightmare. “[Trump’s] trying to sell me an America that doesn’t exist,” he said. “Stop trying to sell me on ‘everything’s rigged, the country’s falling into the sea, the economy’s terrible,’” he continued. “The America that I live in is imperfect. But compared to the rest of the world, I think we’re doing okay.”

Today, Biden pointedly illustrated one more difference between Trump and the real world. In the wake of his own conviction on 34 criminal counts, Trump has amped up his insistence that the Department of Justice is rigged against him and must be purged of nonpartisan civil servants and repopulated with his own loyalists. Biden today underscored his own respect for the rule of law. 

This afternoon a jury found Biden’s 54-year-old son Hunter Biden guilty on three charges of lying on a form required to purchase a gun in 2018 when he checked the “no” box that asked if he was “an unlawful user of, or addicted to,” drugs. That lie permitted him to buy the gun that he owned for 11 days. His lawyer argued that he did not consider himself an addict because he was trying at the time to end his drug dependence. 

The news made the Trump team rush back to their narrative. “This trial has been nothing more than a distraction from the real crimes of the Biden Crime Family, which has raked in tens of millions of dollars from China, Russia and Ukraine,” Trump campaign spokesperson Karoline Leavitt said. Echoing the false allegations MAGA Republicans have made about President Biden, she added: “Crooked Joe Biden’s reign over the Biden Family Criminal Empire is all coming to an end on November 5th, and never again will a Biden sell government access for personal profit.”

But there is no Biden family business, and Hunter Biden is not in the administration. President Biden has kept his distance from the case. Today he said, “I am the president, but I am also a dad. Jill and I love our son, and we are so proud of the man he is today. So many families who have had loved ones battle addiction understand the feeling of pride seeing someone you love come out the other side and be so strong and resilient in recovery. As I…said last week, I will accept the outcome of this case and will continue to respect the judicial process as Hunter considers an appeal. Jill and I will always be there for Hunter and the rest of our family with our love and support. Nothing will ever change that.”

—

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

[4getfulimaginator2022]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

I haven't been tagged, but I saw @fandomsbyladymelodrama do one of these a few months back - so of course, I wanted to give it a try. 🙃 Also, I haven't done any personal posts on here in forever. Time for a change!

How many works do you have on AO3? I have 18 works so far. And when it comes to ships, it looks like I have a "type." 😉

What's your total AO3 word count? Oh boy. 660K+ right now and growing all the time because when stories speak, I write.

What fandoms do you write for? Mainly Once Upon a Time (starting in 2013), followed by Game of Thrones (2024, baby!) and then that 1 Greek myth collection thingy. I was a die-hard Once fan back in the day and watched episodes religiously, so all the canon lore was seared into my brain until season 6 (when I dropped the show because the writing was so off the rails). Surprise, surprise - I haven't watched GoT in its entirety. Everything I know is through my own research, watching videos, reading, reading, reading, and the contributions of the wonderful Jorleesi fandom.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos? All Captain Swan fics, in order from the most to the least: 1) Heart Bound 2) Only the Beginning 3) A Cobbler's Life For Me 4) Be My Angel, Be My Demon 5) Nevermore

Do you respond to comments? I try! I used to be less strict about replying to comments, but with my resurgence in fanfic after years of absence, I have replied to each and every one. Currently, I am behind on replies, but I will get around to it again. Soon.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Oof. I don't do angsty endings because I will die on the hill that is Jane Austen: “My characters shall have, after a little trouble, all that they desire.” Probably my angstiest ending is in Trader of Hearts, which is a really dark fic. I do have a one-shot that is semi-angsty, though: Thinking of You.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? *deer in headlights look* I make it my business to give my beloved characters the happiest endings I can. Seriously. I don't know how to rank endings against each other, since the characters always end up together. I currently think my happiest ending is for The Old Curiosity Shop, my Jorleesi fic.

Do you get hate on fics? I have, but these were readers telling me how I should write my stories "the right way." I also have gotten spam comments. Overall, people are pretty nice.

Do you write smut? Hoo-hah! 😏 Let's count: I have 3 fics rated Mature and 5 fics rated Explicit. That's half of my fic repertoire. And when I do Explicit, it's ❤️‍🔥. Enough said.

Do you write crossovers? No. Not happening, cannot do, end of discussion.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Well... There was a scandal back on FF.net in 2014 or 2015? Websites were copying all fanfics to scammy websites or selling fanfics as ebooks. Not cool. I used to have all my content on FF.net, but now only my in-progress fics are there. All my fics are up on AO3.

Have you ever had a fic translated? No, not that I know of.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Hey, if someone is offering... But again, no. No one ever wanted to co-write with me. 🥺 But maybe it's because I'm sooooooooo bossy!

What's your all-time favorite ship? Oh crap. All-time favorite?! WHAT. I have to cheat here and say there's a tie: Captain Swan and Jorleesi. Emma Swan and Killian Jones had a long journey to love and happiness, both in terms of their individual character growth and their relationship as a couple. The more I learned about them, the harder I fell in love with them. It helped that the CS fandom was HUGE as the ship became canon, and Tumblr was so active then that #captainswan was all over the place. We were one of the largest canon ships for that show. Now, as for Jorleesi... Jorah Mormont's loyalty and devotion earned my attention and respect from the first, and then when I found out about his love for Daenerys and her repressed love affection for him, I was a goner. My 2 OTPs: both women are BAMFs who are survivors and warriors, while their guys value love above all and are willing to die to protect them (*sobbing for Jorah because noooooooo* 😭)

What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Heart Bound. This fic... I love this fic. This is my Jane Eyre/Jane Austen fix. It's my 2nd period piece and I adore some of my prose in this one. It. Needs. 4. Chapters. To. Be. Complete. Can I do it? Yes. Do I want to do it? *cries* Of course I do but it's hard...

What are your writing strengths? Hmm. Some would say it's my prose, while others would say that I know how to channel emotion into my writing. I like to incorporate literature and historical references into my fics (historical AUs or not), so I think I've done well with that. I've also been told that my characterizations are fantastic and unique. You do notice that I'm not claiming credit for any of these observations, right? Usually, I believe my writing is awful and I could have done so much better. I have a hard time acknowledging my strengths. You could hand me an Olympic gold medal for Writing and I would still insist that it's all lies. My self-belief and confidence have not improved over the years.

What are your writing weaknesses? Dialogue. It's always dialogue. I want it to be realistic but my vocab gets in the way and it starts sounding like prose. Not good. But I am getting better! No way to go but up.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? Maybe I'd do it, but it would have to be necessary for me to put in the effort. I don't purposely bamboozle my readers. 🤣

First fandom you wrote for? Once Upon a Time (of course *rolls eyes*). One Against the Wind is my ultimate period fic - pirates, the Caribbean, my tribute to PotC and pirate novels I've read. I created character backstory when there was no canon backstory. It's also my longest fic at 147K words. So proud of it and it still holds a special place in my heart. 😍

Favorite fic you've written? Ugh, no no no! I always, always say I cannot have one favorite because that is BORING. But okay, I will say that at the moment, it's The Old Curiosity Shop. I just did a full read of the entire fic and my heart absolutely melted. Adorable, heartbreaking, angsty, and so romantic. Jorleesi, I love you and I will die for you. You own my heart a thousand times over. ❤️

Fineeeee, I'll tag 5 people (no worries if you don't want to do this - completely voluntary fun and games here 💕): @ser-jorah-the-andal, @rileypotter17, @houseofthebear, @clarasimone, @thank-god-and-you

[offender42085]

Post 0604

Trent Skeene, Ohio inmate A726367, born 1997, incarceration intake in June 2016 at age 18, scheduled discharge date June 2034

Theft, Burglary, Robbery, Assault, Receiving Stolen Property

In June 2016, a New Richmond, Ohio man was sentenced involving an incident where he caused injury to a Clermont County Sheriff’s deputy.

Judge Victor Haddad sentenced Trent Skeene, aged 18, to 18.5 years in prison for his offenses in two cases.

Skeene was charged with one count of robbery, a second degree felony, one count of assault, a fourth degree felony, and one count of resisting arrest, a first degree misdemeanor, for the offense on Dec. 28, 2015 involving Deputy William Brewer.

He was also charged with two counts of burglary, a second degree felony, and two counts of grand theft of a firearm, a third degree felony, for two incidents, one on Dec. 21 and one on Dec. 25, 2015.

After Skeene is released, he will be under mandatory post release control for three years. He also has to pay $12,117.76 in restitution for items he stole, Haddad said.

He noted that Skeene seemed either surprised, bothered or disappointed in himself because of the sentence Haddad gave. Haddad pointed out that he could have given Skeene more time.

“I’m not a machine. I’ve heard what you said. I know that you pled out and I gave you some consideration for it,” Haddad said to Skeene.

On Dec. 28, 2015. Deputy William Brewer responded to a theft in progress call from Walmart in Pierce Township. He stopped a suspect vehicle leaving the parking lot on state Route 125.

When Skeene got out of the car, Brewer attempted to put handcuffs on him, but Skeene tried to punch Brewer, causing Brewer to lose hold of Skeene. It was a rainy day, and Brewer slipped.

He fell onto the fast lane on state Route 125 and was hit by a 16-year-old driver. Brewer had contusions to his right hip and a severe right ankle sprain. Skeene fled but was later taken into custody.

Skeene did not plan to injure Brewer, attorney Michael Metherd told Haddad, he just planned the theft. Metherd also pointed out that Skeene had a rough childhood because his parents were in and out of jail and Skeene lived in foster homes.

Skeene only has an eighth grade education and many of his friends were criminals, Metherd added. Also, Skeene pled guilty and plans to take advantage of opportunities in jail, such as getting his GED.

Skeene read a letter he wrote to Haddad, where he discussed the challenges he faced growing up and how he has reflected on and is sorry for the impact he has had on Brewer and his family and the families he stole from.

“I’m very sorry,” Skeene said.

He asked Haddad for mercy in his sentencing, adding that he wants to make amends to those he has hurt.

“I appreciate you giving me the opportunity to speak and I’d like to also say thank you to Deputy Brewer and the court for saving my life,” Skeene said.

However, Lara Baron, assistant supervisor in the felony division, feels that Skeene is likely to offend again, pointing out that he has a long juvenile record.

“Recidivism is additionally more likely in this case,” Baron said.

She asked that Haddad impose lengthy sentences served consecutively. This will also send a message to other would-be offenders, she feels.

“There is no doubt, your honor, that this path that the defendant has chosen would continue if he is out, not locked up in prison,” Baron said.

Brewer also spoke during the hearing. He told Haddad that he does not consider himself a victim, but he does consider the woman who hit him while driving a victim because, while he doesn’t think she could have avoided him, she has to live with that.

Brewer considers himself to be a man who gives second chances usually, but in this case feels that Skeene should not have one.

“I just don’t believe Mr. Skeene deserves a second chance,” Brewer said.

Haddad took into consideration that Skeene pleaded guilty and owned up to his crime, and he appreciated the letter, although he said that it doesn’t fix anything.

While Skeene had no parental guidance, he still could have become a functioning member of society. Haddad is sympathetic to that fact that Skeene is 18, he said.

He also pointed out Skeene’s juvenile record and the fact that almost every time Skeene was put on probation he has violated his probation.

“That’s not a good sign,” Haddad said.

He added, “Your juvenile record says a lot about where you were, where you’ve been and where you are, which, you said it yourself, is not very favorable.”

Brewer was happy with the sentence Skeene received. He was hoping for at least 13 years.

Brewer did appreciate the letter Skeene wrote and that he pleaded guilty, but just feels he does not deserve a second chance.

3u

Last reviewed October 2024

[damianwaynerocks]

An Interview with the Resurrected Jason Todd

do i hate this? who’s to say really. but i was thinking about how dc would go about bruce making jason be legally alive again, and I got the idea of a tell-all interview with Jason and. here we are.

-

Interview with the Resurrected Jason Todd

By Donna Gallagher

The Wayne Manor driveway is long as the gate opens for me. I’ve seen Wayne Manor in photos before, as everyone has, but its size in person is almost intimidating. Four stories tall, a massive building of beige brick. 

A butler opens the door. Alfred Pennyworth, the man who has been serving the Wayne family for as long as anyone can remember. He’s taller than I’d pictured him. 

“Right in here, Ms. Gallagher,” he says.

Bruce Wayne is standing behind him

He almost looks nervous. He’s standing stiffly, and although he meets my eyes, there’s a desperation in them. It’s strange to see the billionaire playboy look so serious. We’re all used to him tripping over staircases, running into dark corners with supermodels at galas, and pretending to be Batman on Jimmy Fallon.

“Ms. Gallagher,” he says, “Thank you for coming.”

“You have a lovely home,” I say, and I mean it. The foyer alone is beautiful. Arching ceilings with paintings on each other side. One of the paintings catches my eye. I think it’s a Rembrandt.

“Thank you,” Bruce smiles, but I don’t think it’s a real one. “Right this way.”

I follow him down the hall. Bruce is telling me why he chose me to do this interview. He says it’s because I’ve always stuck to the facts and never released any sensitive information on that family he knows I’ve gotten ahold of. I shrug and explain that I don’t think anybody’s personal life should be public news. He smiles again, and this time I think it might be genuine.

“He’s in there.” Bruce opens a door for me, and I see him.

His face is the first thing I notice. He’s handsome, sure, just like all the Waynes are. Chiseled jawline, black hair, bright blue eyes. But his beauty isn’t what catches my attention; it’s the jagged scar that stretches from the bridge of his nose to the corner of his mouth, making him like he’s smirking. 

He’s laying stretched out on the couch in a leather jacket and a Wonder Woman tee underneath. “Ms. Gallagher!” Jason Todd says cheerfully.

Jason Todd. The second son of billionaire Bruce Wayne. He’s stolen the title of most interesting Wayne from his brother Damian- Bruce’s only biological child -in recent years.

According to a press conference held in 2012, Bruce Wayne found a 13-year-old Jason while the latter was trying to steal the tires off of Bruce’s Mercedes. Despite the attempted robbery, Bruce decided to adopt the homeless child instead of pressing charges.

Jason was rarely seen in public. Whenever he was seen at Wayne events, he always looked uncomfortable, and out of place. Tabloids called him “a snobby rich kid” or “an ungrateful child” for avoiding the press, but I think that is unfair. A child living on the streets suddenly becomes the son of arguably one of the most famous people in America? I wouldn’t be very comfortable, either.

Three years later, in 2015, Wayne Enterprises made a statement that Jason Todd had died. He’d been traveling in Ethiopia with Bruce, whenever he was kidnapped and held for ransom. Bruce tried to wire the money to the men responsible, but due to international bank laws, the money did not arrive in time before the warehouse where Jason was being held at caught fire due to faulty wiring. The boy was said to have died of smoke inhalation.

Over time, Jason Todd’s murder left the public eye, with only a few articles being published each year at the anniversary. The name Jason Todd was rarely mentioned.

Until 2022, when Bruce Wayne announced that Jason was alive. The body found was the body of another teenage child that was similar enough to Jason’s build that, with the severe burn damage, was believed to be Jason himself. In actuality, however, Jason had been trafficked. He was kept for years before the Justice League busted one of the trafficker’s safe houses and found him alive in 2021.

Bruce refused to let the media anywhere near Jason. No pictures of him have been leaked online, and Jason has never made any type of statement to the public.

Until now. Bruce Wayne emailed my office and requested that I interview the Wayne son, saying that Jason was ready to speak out about his ordeal after two years of intensive therapy, on the condition that no photographs were taken and Jason was allowed to read the article before publication. 

“Please, have a seat!” Jason gestures to the couch adjacent to the one he’s sitting on. He seems relaxed, and doesn’t appear to be nervous at all. I sit down.  

“Mr. Todd-” I begin, but he cuts me off, asks me to call him by his first name. “Jason-” I begin again, “-It’s lovely to meet you.”

“You too!” he says. “Hey, did you watch the coverage of the Met Gala a couple months ago? Where Bruce busted his ass in front of Kim Kardashian? That was the funniest shit I’ve ever seen!” 

I laugh. “Yeah, I did see that. It must be interesting having him as a father, does he fall often?”

“Oh yeah, all the time. He’s really bad at like, being a person, honestly. He’s banned from the kitchen after he set the fire alarm off trying to use the toaster.”

He launches into the full story. Apparently, Bruce Wayne isn’t the one who runs the Manor; it’s Alfred Pennyworth. “Which is why I think it’s so fucking funny how so many people think he’s Batman. Bruce? Batman? One time he tripped over Damian’s cat and he started crying because he stubbed his toe.” 

“What’s it like, returning home to have so many siblings?” I ask. I jump right into his return, as I was notified that asking about his time being trafficked was strictly off-limits. Jason snorts.

“Annoying as fuck. Dick was an asshole when I was still here, and suddenly he’s this ray of fucking sunshine who keeps trying to get me to talk about my feelings. Damian’s a little demon spawn, threatens to stab me everytime I do something he doesn’t like.” He pauses. “Duke and Cass are cool, though. Tim is okay too, once you get past the whole falling-asleep-at-dinner- thing. He doesn’t ever sleep you know. He’s stupid.”

“Wait, Damian threatens to stab you?” I’m surprised. Everybody knows the youngest Wayne is a bit… snippy. Everybody’s seen the footage of him berating Vicky Vale for pronouncing a word wrong. 

“Yeah!” Jason throws his hand in the air. “And I’m like, dude, I’ve been stabbed before. Several times! And when I say that he’s like-” He speaks in a high-pitched tone “-Silence, Todd! We’ve all been kidnapped before.’ He’s a little piece of shit.” 

I ask him if he was alright about talking about his experience, as he brought it up. He says it’s fine because Bruce doesn’t know shit about what I want to talk about. He tells me I can ask as many ‘intrusive’ questions as I please, saying he’s tired of everyone treating him Like I’m some fragile piece of shit that will fall apart at any moment. I tell him he can stop me at any time, and then I say, “How did it feel whenever you were first taken?”

Jason takes a drink of his water that smells like vodka. “Scared as shit. Tried to fight ‘em, but then they smacked me in the head with a crowbar like I was some dog that pissed on the floor. I got up after that, though. Took em a while to break me.”

“When did you start to..” I trail off, trying to decide on the word before I decide to use his own language. “...break?”

“Probably like, two months in.” he replies. He still doesn’t seem to be nervous or uncomfortable. His therapy must be really helpful. “Whenever they showed me a news clip of Bruce back in Gotham. Made me think he just gave up and left. I wasn’t told that he thought I died, I just thought he stopped caring.” 

“That must’ve been hard,” I say empathetically, “Feeling abandoned.”

Jason shrugs. “Yeah, it was.” His voice starts to sound strained, so I jump ahead. 

“So, you were rescued by the Justice League. How did that go down?” He brightens up again.

“Oh, it was fucking awesome.” He says excitedly. “Like, seeing Wonder Woman!? In person!? Made all the torture and shit worth it, honestly. I’d go through it all again to see fucking Wonder Woman beat up those fuckers in front of me again.”

I chuckle and ask if he’s a Wonder Woman fan. He scoffs, and tells me that of course, he is because She’s so much better than that furry Batman. “Plus, ya know,” He sits up. “She’s a woman. I love seeing badass women. And honestly, watching those misogynistic fuckers get destroyed by a woman was hilarious.” 

“How did it feel? To see Bruce again after all those years?” I ask. His smile goes away.

“I mean, not great. I thought he abandoned me, you know? And then seeing that he’d adopted more kids after me? I felt replaced. Didn’t understand how he felt for years.” He laughs. “Alfred and Dick were the ones that got through to me, actually. Told me all this shit about what he’d been through and about how he gave millions of dollars to the FBI, CIA, the UN, and even Batman to hunt down the people that took me.”

“Were they ever caught? The ones that physically took you?” I ask. The public had never been told, mainly because their names were never released. We know that the actual trafficking ring was shut down, but not what happened to the people who were responsible for Jason being taken in the first place.

Jason doesn’t answer for a long moment. There’s rage in his eyes, and his grip on his glass tightens. I’m about to apologize and change the subject, but then he growls out “No. He- they weren’t. Nothing happened to them.”

I apologize if I asked too personal of a question, but he stops me. In the same light tone he’d used in the beginning of the interview, he says “Don’t worry about it, questions aren’t near as bad as, you know, being tortured and all that.”

Not the first time, I notice how much therapy had clearly been helping him if he was able to speak of his ordeal in such a light tone. He starts to laugh but covers it with a cough. “Oh- right - therapy-” he snorts out. “Yeah, therapy is the best! Love therapy. Love being in therapy.”

I ask what he’s been doing ever since being back.

“Mainly hanging out with friends,” he replies. “My friends Roy and two others. They’re cool. We go on, uh, vacations a lot. I also get nagged by Dick all the fucking time.” He rolls his eyes. “You can’t be around Dick Grayson without being nagged about something. I also like to read. I’m in the middle of The Idiot by Dostoevsky. Really good! I recommend it.”

“You like classics?”

“Oh yeah.” He grins. “They’re the best. Damian and Duke make fun of me for it, but like, they’re just jealous I can read. They look at pages and are like oooh what the fuck are these squiggly lines.” He pauses again. “Oh yeah, fun fact! Damian can’t read.”

I flinch as we hear a scream from the further in the house, something that sounds like “I can read, Todd, and if you say that again I will cut out your tongue.” Jason ignores it.

“But what I really wanted to talk to you is this project Bruce and I are working on.” He leans forward on his knees. “We’re working on creating an organization for street kids like me to help prevent trafficking. I got trafficked by dumb fucking luck, but most of the people who get trafficked are people living in poverty. Not having access to money to get your basic needs met can result in doing some shady shit to get money, which can make you vulnerable to predators. Like, a common thing for people to do is to resort to prostitution, which can get them trafficked internationally or right here in Gotham. Or they get this offer for a job that will get them money, but it’s just a scheme to get them kidnapped. Plus, poor kids disappearing are less likely to be investigated by GCPD, which makes them another target.”

“I see,” I say with a smile. That was really admirable. “So what are you two planning to do?”

“So, for starters,” he says. “We’re going to poor money into Gotham’s poorest communities. Bruce already does that, but Gotham is so corrupt that the organizations don’t use the money for housing or education or stuff like that, they keep it for themselves. We’re going to make it mandatory that they have to send it documentation that shows that they’re using the money for what it’s supposed to do.”

He explains the plan further. In addition to funding, they’re going to create a Wayne-funded after-school program for children to go to after school until their parents get off work to prevent them from getting into any trouble. There will also be an increase in homeless youth shelters that are overseen by Bruce and Jason themselves to help prevent any abuse from occurring. There will also be free job training and a free wardrobe, all funded by Wayne Enterprises. He adds that not only is this about human trafficking, but the goal is to help children in poverty in general. Jason says that he will be volunteering at all of these places. 

“We’re also working with the Mayor to get homelessness decriminalized,” Jason adds. “Besides the fact that it’s a fucking stupid law- like it’s somehow their fault for not finding a home - it’ll decrease the chances of people moving in with dangerous people just to avoid prosecution for, ya know, trying to survive.”

“That’s amazing,” I say, and I mean it. “Do you have any idea what you’ll call this?”

“Yeah,” Jason says with a smile. “It’s going to be called The Catherine Project.”

We have some small talk after that, and then I leave. He walks me to the door, telling me more stories about his siblings, such as how Tim refuses to take his antibiotics despite his lack of a spleen. He shakes my hand as I leave.

People have been wondering for the past what Jason Todd is like. They assume that he’s a traumatized boy. A boy who can’t leave the house, a boy who has nightmares. They assume he’s angry, a screaming mess, a shell of who he used to be. But I can tell you with certainty who Jason Todd truly is.

Jason Todd is a man who has been through some of the worst things a human can imagine, but he decides to help people. The Catherine Project will help hundreds of children.  Jason Todd is a man who saw the cruelty of the world, but chose to be kind.

[aaronstveit]

20 questions for 20 writers!

tagged by the bestie @afaramir abby thank you so much for giving me an excuse to avoid writing tonight <3

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 45!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 492,078 and literally a solid quarter of that is from c&b oh i'm laughing.

3. What fandoms do you write for? right now only for les mis but most of my works are trc and in 2019/2020 i wrote a bit for soc and aftg.....

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? oh i'm laughing these aren't even GOOD.... 1. [redacted soc fic] 2. makes me feel a little bit closer to you - pynch clothes sharing fic 3. c&b (my most beloved this is the only valid entry on this list) 4. i ain't gotta tell him (i think he knows) - pynch ithk songfic 5. all the time, all the time (i think of you all the time) - pynch fic where ronan is tutoring adam in art

5. Do you respond to comments? mostly yes! for like a solid 2 years i didn't but now i do again <3

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? ummm i think the only actually angsty ending i have is all too well adansey fic? i'm such a happy ending girlie that's the only one i can think of that doesn't end happily. for obvious reasons.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? i like to think pretty much everything i write ends happily but c&b proposal fic is what comes to mind since i finally finished it THREE ENTIRE YEARS LATER very recently

8. Do you get hate on fics? no i have been very lucky so far actually!

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? no because i am afraid

10. Do you write crossovers? i do not!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? not that i know of!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? nope not yet!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? only the theoretical AUs that coco and i like to talk about but never commit to writing <3 although really you could consider coco my cowriter on most of my fics (especially c&b) like so much of them comes from her fr. love you coco <3333

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship? oh i can't pick. that's like asking a mother to pick her favorite child. right now those dead gay french revolutionaries have my heart but tomorrow, who knows?

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? ugh i hate admitting defeat but. but. i am aware that beloved beloved pynch band fic will probably never be finished. which is a SHAME because i have soooooooo much of it planned out i mean like. i've got full albums designed. most of the beats are mapped out. i've got fake tweets written up, i've got chapter titles and scene drafts. like the entire concept is there and i'm so obsessed with it. but i just. after all these years it is extremely unlikely that i am going to actually, you know. write it.

16. What are your writing strengths? beginnings. i am so good at beginnings. that's why i have so many wips. also i like to think i'm good at dialogue. i try to write conversationally even when it's not actually a conversation and i think that translates well to actual dialogue it's fun.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? endings. i can't end anything to save my LIFE. also just plots in general escape me. and i always end up writing 10k more words than i meant to.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? um other people who can do it definitely should! i however cannot do that. i did however use my extremely limited knowledge of the french language for the section headings in my most recent fic and i like the effect it produced i think.

19. First fandom you wrote for? all evidence of their existence has been wiped from the face of the earth but my very first fics were one star wars fic and one agents of shield fic circa like. 2015.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? legally i'm obligated to say c&b but right now actually i'm still very very happy with how exr rooftop fic turned out. literally the entire time i was writing it i was just having a blast. i love writing angst and stuff it's like chewing on a polly pocket toy. now that i'm evil i never wanna write fluff again. i'm torturing those fictional guys fr.

tagging besties @television-bodies @gingerpeachtea and anyone else who wants to do it! ♡

[agirlwithachakram]

i have this idea for a fic but it’s ruined by the fact that nevada didn’t legalize gay marriage before 2015. however it’s still funny so here it is

slight canon divergence where House and Wilson are at a medical conference in vegas after wilson’s third divorce and get blackout drunk

and then years later when house is being a huge bitch about the cuddy breakup he tries to marry dominika and discovers he is already married

so he changes his revenge plans and starts really piling it on wilson, calling him pet names every thirty seconds, just really performing the overly affectionate husband. wilson of course continues to have no idea they got married and no idea why house is all over him, especially in front of cuddy until he’s at house’s and he opens a piece of mail from nevada gov’t that is a copy of their marriage license.

and of course when he confronts house with it, house is like “so now that we’re honest are you going to stop being frigid and let me stick it in the back door?”

everything else still happens but now house can be like “i notice I didn’t get served divorce papers in jail” when he’s trying to get wilson back in his life.

and wilson is like “i didn’t have a girlfriend and i didn’t want to deal with it.”

and then when he punches house house is all “wow, i would never have thought you of all people would commit domestic violence.”

and wilson’s like “You BROKE MY WRiST. you’ve drugged me three separate times at least, stolen my clothes, flashed my girlfriend--”

“Technically she was your affair partner.”

“dinner, your place?”

“Yes honey.”

“I will punch you again.”

“homophobe.”

[mandokero-eboy]

So my former country had an election huh?

Aight let's do some motherfucking politics on the Venezuelan election. Been trying to tune it out all day. No I didn't vote I didn't have the chance to register because of reasons.

First of all, I definitely think that it was either stolen or that they are trying to steal it ahead of time without actually counting the vote. The government declared victory with 80% of the vote being counted when the difference between the two candidates being only 6 points. They claimed this to be an insurmountable difference. That's obviously not true and is objectively sus as fuck.

Bit of a history lesson: Elections in Venezuela are always sus as fuck. Before voting even happens they often bar popular opposition candidates from even running. This is the reason why the current opposition candidate, Edmundo Gonzales, is basically running on behalf of the more well known figure Maria Corina Machado, who is barred from running, and she's pretty much the face of the whole thing there.

They've messed with the internal organization of independent political parties (which how the fuck are they even allowed to force a political party to switch their leadership around?); the Supreme Court picked the Electoral Council in charge of running the elections in 2020 even though that's an authority reserved for Congress. All these shenanigans prevented the opposition from running again in the parliamentary election of 2020 and completely removed them from the National Assembly which they won fair and square in 2015.

And even if the opposition wins the government will probably pull some shenanigans so they don't have any power. For example, after they lost the parliamentary election in 2015 the supreme court pulled a bunch of shenanigans and transferred all their powers to themselves, then gave them back. Then the government organized an assembly to rewrite the constitution which is staffed entirely of government loyalists and then that assembly handed itself all Legislative Powers. Of course, that assembly was disbanded when the government blocked the opposition from running and thus regained control of the regular congress 5 years later. Not to mention we also have gerrymandering and they change the electoral system every time there's a parliamentary election, as a treat.

I don't know what to tell you if you think this is not hella fucking sus or that these shenanigans represent the actions of a democratic government with a sound popular mandate which respects the will of the people.

So what happened yesterday on July 28, 2024? The opposition faction has declared victory saying the results they have access to and can verify 40% of the official vote count, which says there's a 70% victory in favor of them with 30% against Maduro. I am taking this with a grain of salt that it's incontrovertible proof that they won because it also, mathematically, is not. However this would be broadly consistent with polls leading up to the election as well as the reported exit polls. Remains to be seen in what way they'll continue to dispute the results and if they'll be successful. As you may have deduced from the history lesson, the opposition are not known to be very competent.

There's a bit of misinformation floating around that I've seen. Videos of alleged ballot stealing that are just old videos of dudes stealing AC units have been circulating. There's also graphs from a few government affiliated outlets showing the results adding up to 139% or so. I think that's more a guy in TeleSur being a dipshit because they said all the third party candidates got 4.2% of the vote (combined) and they just wrote it as each of them getting 4.2%. Again, TeleSur not known to be very competent. This is not evidence of fraud it's evidence of an intern in a propaganda outlet being dumb.

There was also an exit poll distributed by someone affiliated with the government that showed Maduro winning. It was made by a fake company that couldn't be traced. Side note on this but I've heard people discounting exit polls entirely because they're illegal in Venezuela. What's illegal here is distributing exit polls before official results are announced. Conducting an exit poll is not illegal.

Finally, to reiterate, the government declared victory with 20% of the vote left to count and barely a 6% difference in the total while declaring this somehow an insurmountable trend.

Clearly there's misinformation on both sides. What this tells me is that there's broad mistrust of the government in conducting a fair election, and also the government affiliated actors have an incentive in declaring victory very quickly.

Nevertheless, some violence and irregularities have been reported in polling centers. It's likely we're not given any official explanations for these irregularities.

If I want any takeaway from this post to my non-Venezuelan audience, especially the left wing audience, it is this:

Nicolas Maduro is not a universally beloved special darling boy of socialism who's never done anything wrong. He's extremely divisive at best, only won by 50% originally and has had electoral results for both himself and his party in congress only get worse. Him losing would not be very surprising. It wouldn't have to be a CIA conspiracy to depose him. He's also not even very good at socialism and his anti-imperialist credentials are shoddy as fuck. The indigenous representatives in the National Assembly have supported the Opposition coalition for a decade now. For all their talk about sovereignty and independence the country is nonetheless economically beholden to Russia and China and he has been cutting deals with the US under the table anyway. Oh and they threatened to invade another country like a year ago? That was wild. Not to mention the welfare state that his predecessor built is currently in shambles and so are the nationalized industries, and they have for many years. I have my own misgivings about the opposition coalition but they seem hardly relevant when the government is very clearly flaunting democracy itself.

I am not one for emotional pleas for my country's future or whatever the fuck. I stopped being emotionally attached to this place when I was 8 and I actively despise patriotism. I cringe every time I see the flag. But I care about a certain set of values like democracy and all that jazz and I am not a fan of the brain worms that the western left often gets where a motherfucker can put on a red shirt while being from the Global South and get universal praise from a certain set of American leftists. Do like, a little bit of critical thinking here guys if this is what elections are supposed to look like under socialism I don't fucking want it. This guy isn't interested in building an independent sovereign socialist country that cares for its people he just knows that the second he's not president he's getting cannibalized.

[neotrances]

its really difficult to find documentation of AAVE for words that got super popular like "delulu". the search is littered with tiktok and "gen z slang" or whatever. or say shit like "coined in 2015 by streamer somethijg something". dogshit when youre just trying to learn

that’s the problem 99% of “gen z slang” is just stolen aave and u have trouble finding documentation bc aave is meant to be and has always been meant to be a word of mouth language, the origin of aave was specifically intended not to have nonblacks and esp white ppl understand like at all during slavery, aave can tell u were other black ppl are from how old they are what cities they grew up in what groups they’re apart of etc etc the whole point is it’s only meant to be for US, theirs some ig “helpful” places like urban dictionary but even that’s dicey bc again nonblacks overhear these words from us in our own spaces and take them and redefine them and that definition typically gets more popular than the actual meaning and it’s annoying as fuck, best advice, it u head a new word or phrase and don’t get it 99.9999% of the time it’s aave not gen z slang and u don’t need to use it bc i promise you’ll use it wrong