#equipment neglect | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

buckysleftbicep · 9 days ago

Text

high for this 𐙚 b.b

pairing: new avenger!bucky barnes x reader (sex pollen trope)

warnings: nsfw, 18+, minors dni, sort of dub-con (bucky and you under the influence of the gas), loss of control, fingering, unprotected sex, rough sex, creampie, regret, angst

summary: during a mission, you and bucky are exposed to a gas meant to strip away restraint. he resists, and well, you try. but when the heat fades, it’s not the mission that haunts you both, it’s what happened behind that door. based on this request! | requests are open

word count: 3.8k

author's note: hi everyone! i've been wanting to write a fic with this trope and i got a request for it so yay! i hope you enjoy it, and if you did, please drop a comment or reblog, thank you my loves!

look at him, oh my god

The air in the underground lab hung heavy and stale, thick with the sharp metallic tang of rusted machinery and decades of neglect. Fluorescent lights flickered sporadically overhead, casting a sickly, pale glow across the cavernous chamber.

You and Bucky moved through the shadows with practiced precision, each step deliberate but silent, your boots barely whispering against the cracked concrete floor.

Around you, the vast expanse was filled with obsolete equipment, dented metal tables, shattered screens, and tangled wires like forgotten veins pulsing beneath the surface. The hum of distant generators mixed with the faint drip of water somewhere deep in the tunnels.

“Keep it tight,” Bucky whispered in your ear through the comms, his voice low and steady, though you could feel the sharp edge of tension beneath his calm breath. The subtle hitch in his tone told you he was bracing for whatever was lurking just beyond the next corner.

The mission itself was deceptively simple: locate and retrieve experimental tech that had been developed in secret—a weapon rumored to be devastating in its scope.

But simplicity was a lie, twisted by every step you took deeper into the compound. You could feel it pressing down on you, the weight of what might go wrong.

Ahead, the vault door loomed like a sleeping beast, slick with grime and age, its steel surface cold and unforgiving. The locking mechanism was an intricate, ancient system, blinking red lights and mechanical clicks that echoed faintly in the vast silence.

You crouched down beside the control panel, fingers trembling ever so slightly as they danced across the cracked screen, searching for an override.

Your pulse thundered in your ears, each beat a hammer strike against your ribcage. You could feel Bucky’s eyes on your back, scanning every shadow, every inch of the room, the quiet intensity radiating from him like heat.

“I’ve got your six,” he murmured, voice barely audible.

“Door’s locked tight,” you muttered, frustration pricking beneath your calm facade. “Trying to bypass it… come on…”

The screen flickered, the system stubbornly resisting. Then, suddenly, the entire room shifted, an ominous metallic groan echoed off the walls, and a sudden blast of air slammed into your chest, knocking the breath from your lungs.

“Shit.” Bucky’s voice snapped, sharp and urgent.

Before you could react, a faint hiss whispered from the vents above. It was thin, almost imperceptible, like a silent breath but the moment you inhaled, a strange sensation exploded inside your chest. Your lungs clenched painfully, as if something inside had turned razor sharp.

The air was saturated with a scent that was disarming in its sweetness, floral and delicate, like jasmine petals crushed beneath a gentle hand. But beneath that softness lurked something far more dangerous and intoxicating.

Your heart lurched in your chest, thundering wildly.

“Gas,” you gasped, your hand flying to your mouth instinctively, your fingers trembling as you tried to keep your breath shallow.

Bucky’s hand was on your shoulder in an instant—firm and grounding. He yanked the collar of his tactical jacket up over his nose and mouth, pulling you close until your chest pressed against his. “Hold your breath,” he ordered, voice low and rough.

But it was already too late.

A sudden, searing heat flared beneath your skin, blooming like wildfire beneath the fabric of your suit.

Every nerve ending ignited, the heat crawling along your spine, pooling low in your belly with sharp, urgent hunger. Your body betrayed you, trembling uncontrollably with the unfamiliar ache that twisted deep and raw inside.

You swallowed hard, throat tight, fighting to keep your voice steady.

Bucky’s eyes locked onto yours, those pretty cerulean blues now dark, blown wide, fierce, flickering with a storm he was desperate to hold back. His jaw clenched tightly as he fought the invisible pull clawing at him, every muscle taut beneath his black tactical gear.

“We’re locked in,” he said finally, voice tight with frustration and warning. “This is a trap.”

You swallowed again, heat pooling heavier now, your thighs pressing tightly together as you tried to contain the growing ache spreading between your legs.

“We need to find a way out. Fast.” Bucky added. But the walls seemed to close in on you, the air thickening with something more than just the gas. Your hands slick with sweat, trembling slightly as they brushed the cold, unforgiving metal of the walls for balance.

Bucky paced like a predator caught in a cage, jaw clenched, muscles coiled and ready to strike. He fought the pull dragging at him, every glance between you charged with a raw, electric tension—too close, too volatile.

You could see it in the way his eyes darkened, in the way his breath hitched just slightly when you shifted too near. Neither of you wanted to admit what was coming.

Neither could deny it.

The silence in the sealed lab wasn’t still anymore.

It hummed.

Low and thrumming, like the room itself was breathing heavier. The air had thickened, heady, warm, wet. A weight pressed down on your chest as your body rebelled against you, desire twisting deep and low, hotter by the second.

Your skin tingles, flushed with fever. Every breath burned down your throat. Every shift of fabric made you ache.

Bucky stood a few feet away, frozen mid-movement.

His hand was still gripping your shoulder from when he’d tried to shield you. But he dropped it now, like touching you had scalded him. His metal fingers flexed once, twice, before curling into a fist.

“…You okay?” he asked roughly, though his voice already knew the answer.

You swallowed. “Not really.”

He nodded once. Barely.

You could see the war raging inside him, written in every tense line of his body. His jaw was locked tight, muscles twitching beneath his stubble, as his gaze darted, your face, the floor, the wall, anywhere but the place he was dying to look.

But then his eyes dragged back to your chest, lingering just a moment too long, and you saw it, the unraveling. The want. The fight that he was losing, second by second.

“Fuck,” he muttered, turning away.

He was pacing again, but slower this time. Almost as if he was trying to bleed something off. Shake it loose.

Sweat shimmered at the base of his neck, catching in the hollow of his throat before trailing downward, disappearing beneath the clinging fabric of his black tactical shirt. You watched the slow, measured rise and fall of his chest, controlled, but only just.

His fingers twitched, betraying him as he tugged at the collar like it was strangling him, like air itself had become too thick to breathe. There was a tremor in him, small but unmistakable, and it wasn’t from exertion.

It was restraint. Barely contained. Ready to snap.

“It’s not just pheromones,” Bucky said, his voice low, rough around the edges like it hurt to speak. “This shit’s tactical. Weaponised. Hydra created it back in the day to override judgment. Strip you down to the parts of you that can’t say no.”

He dragged a hand through his hair, breathing hard. “I’ve seen it before. They used it in field tests, watched how soldiers broke,” his eyes finally met yours, heavy with something close to shame. “It wasn’t about pleasure. It was about control.”

Your stomach flipped.

You leaned against the wall, heart pounding. “How long until we’re not?”

He paused. Didn’t answer.

His fists flexed again.

“Bucky?”

He didn’t turn.

“I don’t know.”

That was when you saw it, the change. Not just restraint. No, this was something else. He was coiled, like a wire stretched to its limit, every muscle taut beneath his skin. His shoulders curled inward, not in defeat, but like the very weight of his body was suffocating him. When he finally drew a breath, it shook on the way in and left his chest more like a growl than air.

“I can feel it crawling under my skin,” he muttered. “It’s not going away.”

He braced both hands on the metal table at the center of the room, head bowed between them. His back heaved with the effort of staying still. You could see the sweat pooling between his shoulder blades, the veins in his arms standing out.

“I can’t stop thinking about…” he cut himself off, slammed a fist into the table.

Metal dented under his knuckles.

His head snapped toward you, and this time he didn’t look away.

“I shouldn’t be thinking about you like this.”

You stepped forward slowly, drawn by gravity. “But you are.”

He let out a sharp breath, jaw ticking, lips parted like he couldn’t get enough air. “You have no idea what this is doing to me.”

“Then tell me.”

“I can’t.”

He turned again, pacing tighter now, like a predator testing the edges of its cage. And every time he passed, you felt it. The heat radiating off him in waves. The tension rippling beneath his skin.

His eyes dragged over you, your mouth, your chest, the curve of your hips, each pass lingering longer, darker, more dangerous than the last.

“It’s like… like my whole body’s screaming for it,” he hissed. “My skin’s burning, my fucking senses are haywire. I can hear your heartbeat from across the room, and I can smell you."

He was unraveling. And so were you.

Your thighs pressed together, instinctively chasing even the slightest relief from the ache building low in your belly. It wasn’t subtle. He saw it, caught the motion with sharp eyes and his jaw locked tight. A low, filthy curse slipped from his mouth, barely audible but ragged, like it had been dragged straight from his chest.

“We have to wait it out,” he said, but his voice was more plea than order. “We just have to, fuck, fuck, don’t look at me like that.”

You hadn’t moved.

But your lips were parted. Your eyes wide, dark, matching his hunger.

His gaze dropped to your mouth, lingered, then dipped lower, much lower. His jaw worked once, twice, before he turned and slammed both hands into the wall.

“We’re not doing this,” he snapped. “Not like this. You don’t want me. It’s the gas talking.”

“I’ve always wanted you.”

That stopped him.

He turned, slow, like he wasn’t sure if he’d imagined the words. His chest heaved, a muscle twitching at his temple, sweat trickling along his jawline. He looked wrecked already—and you hadn’t even touched him.

“You don’t mean that,” he said, voice raw.

“I do.”

He swallowed hard, tongue running along the inside of his cheek like he was trying to keep himself from lunging. “You say that now, but if I lose control-”

“Then lose it.”

That broke something in him.

He looked away, hands curling at his sides like he was trying to anchor himself to something real. But there was nothing real left in this room—only heat, the smell of your arousal, and the sound of your name caught between his teeth like prayer and curse.

“We’re not gonna make it,” he said softly. “Not without…”

His voice trailed off.

But the implication hung thick in the air, like smoke after a fire, suffocating and inescapable. His eyes found yours again, and this time, he didn’t look away.

They were no longer the cold steel-blue you’d grown used to. They burned. Not with restraint. Not with discipline. But hunger. Raw, untempered need. And something darker beneath it, something primal and barely held together by the thinnest thread.

This wasn’t the Bucky who stayed silent in briefings, who watched you with veiled eyes and clenched fists. This wasn’t the careful man who always pulled away before his hands could linger too long.

This version of him was stripped bare, instincts flaring in a space where consequences didn’t seem to exist.

And yet, he hesitated. Chest heaving, jaw tight, voice a rasp: “Fuck… I can’t—”

“You can,” you whispered, throat dry, mind drowning beneath the ache between your legs. “Please Bucky… I need you.”

That was all it took.

His restraint shattered like glass under a hammer.

Bucky surged forward and crashed into you like a wave, hands grabbing, mouth consuming. Your back slammed against the wall, but you didn’t feel the impact over the way his lips crushed yours.

There was no finesse, no caution, just teeth, breath, heat. He kissed like a man starved, dragging your bottom lip between his teeth before pulling away to bite down your jaw, your throat, the pulse hammering beneath your skin.

His metal hand twisted in your hair, forcing your head back so he could taste you deeper, tongue leaving the sweat from your collarbone as a groan vibrated against your flesh.

“Been tryin’ to hold back,” he growled into your neck, his voice fraying at the edges, broken and desperate. “But you, fuck, you’ve been killing me.”

You could barely think. Your hands clawed at his shoulders, pulling at his gear, desperate to feel more. You arched into him, gasping when your thigh brushed the heavy bulge straining against his pants.

“I need you to fuck me,” you breathed, shaking. “Please. I need to feel you-”

“You will,” he bit out.

His hands were merciless, stripping your gear away with a speed that spoke of long-suppressed fantasies. The moment he pulled your suit down and dragged your soaked underwear to the side, the cold air hit your swollen, dripping core, but nothing could compare to the blistering heat of his fingers pushing between your thighs.

“Jesus,” he hissed as he slid two fingers through your slick folds, coating them in your arousal before thrusting them inside in one hard motion. “You’re fuckin’ soaked.”

Your knees buckled, body lurching into his chest with a whimper as he fucked you on his fingers, deep and fast, curling just right to make your eyes roll back. His thumb rubbed circles over your clit, slow and deliberate, like he wanted you trembling before he even gave you his cock.

“You that wet for me?” His voice was low, thick with lust. “Or is that gas still makin’ you a mess?”

You moaned, barely able to breathe. “It’s you. It’s always been you.”

That made him groan, from deep in his chest, his mouth crashing against yours again, swallowing your whimpers as he fucked you harder with his fingers, the metal hand at your hip bruising with how tight he held you in place.

“You’re so goddamn tight,” he snarled, voice muffled against your lips. “This pussy’s beggin’ for me.”

He yanked his pants down just enough to free his cock, thick and flushed and leaking at the tip. You barely had time to register it before he grabbed your thigh, hiked it around his waist, and lined himself up.

“You want it?” he demanded.

You nodded frantically, breath ragged, nails sinking into the kevlar on his shoulders. “Yes, god, fuck me like you need it.”

“I do need it,” he growled, and then he buried himself inside you in one brutal thrust.

You cried out, the stretch stealing the air from your lungs. He was so big, the angle so deep, your body clamped around him like it didn’t want to let him go. The pain and pleasure blurred, and all you could do was hold on.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he groaned, pressing his forehead to yours. “You feel like heaven, feel like you were made for me.”

He started to move, fucking into you with unrelenting force, fast, rough, each thrust shoving you against the wall with a dull thud. It was messy, desperate, your slick coating his cock, dripping down your thighs.

You couldn’t stop the moans pouring from your lips, each one higher-pitched than the last as his hips snapped harder, deeper, relentless.

“You like this?” he hissed into your ear. “Like being used?”

“Yes,” you gasped. “Fuck, yes, I love it.”

He growled again, one hand wrapping around your throat, not tight, just firm, his other bracing against the wall. His thrusts grew erratic, hips slamming into yours with bruising force as he drove you higher, closer, the pressure building fast and sharp at the base of your spine.

“Gonna come inside you,” he groaned against your neck, voice wrecked and shaking with restraint. “Gonna fill you up so deep you’ll still be leaking days from now.”

You whimpered, barely hanging on, the pressure inside you coiled so tight it hurt. “Please,” you gasped, eyes brimming, breath catching. “I want it, want all of it.”

His pace faltered just enough to press in deeper, harder, his body trembling with the force of it. “You don’t get to beg for this and not fucking mean it,” he snarled, every word rough and fraying at the edges. “Say it. Tell me what you need.”

Your head fell back, voice hoarse and breaking. “Want you to cum in me,” you choked out, every word laced with desperation. “Want you to fuck it into me, wanna feel like you own me.”

Bucky groaned at your words. He thrust once, twice, then held himself buried to the hilt, his cock pulsing deep inside you as he spilled into your cunt with a growl so guttural it vibrated through your chest. Hot spurts of cum filled you, leaking down your thighs as he trembled, arms wrapped around you like he never wanted to let go.

You were a mess, panting, shaking, skin flushed and damp with sweat. His body was still pressed to yours, breath ragged against your neck, his cock twitching inside you even as he softened. His lips dragged along your jaw, your temple, soft now, almost apologetic.

“You okay?” he whispered, softer, voice thick.

You nodded, barely able to speak. “Yeah. Are you?”

He didn’t answer.

Just stayed there, holding you, forehead pressed to yours, while the silence thickened again, and the weight of what had just happened started to settle over both of you.

The silence that followed wasn’t peaceful. It was thick and deafening, a heavy weight that pressed in from all sides. You were still against the wall, your body cooling far too fast, thighs sticky with his release and your chest rising and falling beneath your half-unzipped tactical suit.

Bucky’s body hadn’t fully left yours, his forehead was still resting against yours, breath hot and shallow, jaw clenching like he was physically holding something back.

But his hands had already dropped from your waist. Like he’d realised what he’d done. What you both had done. What it meant.

He wouldn’t look at you.

You swallowed the rasp in your throat and whispered his name, barely a breath. “Bucky. Are you okay?”

He flinched like the sound of your voice cut through whatever fragile control he was clinging to. And then, without answering, he stepped away from you. Just a few paces, but it was enough. Enough for the heat to dissipate, for the air between you to feel cold and wrong.

He dragged a hand through his damp hair and adjusted his pants with sharp, efficient movements, his jaw tight. His eyes were dark with conflict, shame. Something he didn’t want to name, but couldn’t quite suppress. It was in his posture, in the stiffness of his spine.

“We shouldn't have done that,” he said at last, the words raw and thick. “Not like that.”

The words hit you hard, cut deeper than they should have. You reached for something solid, something to hold on to. “You didn’t hurt me,” you said quickly, too quickly, as if easing his guilt might cut through the tension between the both of you.

But Bucky only shook his head, the bitterness in his voice almost enough to drown you both. “That’s not what I’m worried about.” He paused, eyes flicking to the floor like he couldn’t bear to see your face. “You were dosed. So was I. None of that was real.”

You could feel your breath catch in your chest, tight and painful. “You think I didn’t want it?” The question hung in the air like smoke, curling between you, dangerous and impossible to take back.

He didn’t answer. Not with words. Just clenched his jaw and turned away further, the tension in his shoulders wound so tight you thought he might snap. His silence said enough.

And then the comms crackled to life, cutting through the atmosphere like a blade. Ava’s voice came through the static—concerned, clipped. “Bucky, (y/n) report. Are you two clear?”

You froze. Your eyes met his for half a second, and he moved faster than you could react, snatching the comm piece and answering before you could even open your mouth.

“Yeah,” he said, voice stiff, cold. “Copy that. We’re fine. Situation’s contained. We were exposed to something, but it’s neutralised now.”

A beat of silence followed.

“You sound… off,” Ava replied.

“Just prep extraction,” Bucky said, sharper now. Then he cut the line before she or anyone could ask anything else.

Silence returned. But this time it wasn’t laced with tension or heat. It was suffocating. You pulled your suit back into place with shaking hands, not from aftershocks of pleasure, but from the sudden emptiness.

From the way he wouldn’t look at you, wouldn’t speak. You felt like you were standing on the edge of something that had already crumbled beneath your feet.

“Don’t shut me out,” you said quietly, though it already felt like he had.

“I’m not.” But the words were flat, hollow, too calm to be true. He still wouldn’t look at you. “I just need air.”

“You mean you need to not look at me right now,” you murmured, the words escaping before you could temper them. They came out too sharp, too raw, but they were true. And they stung like hell.

His body stiffened. “I just don’t wanna say something I’ll regret.”

That of all things hit the hardest, not because it was cruel, but because it was honest. You wrapped your arms around yourself as the chill of the room settled into your skin, as the weight of what he wasn’t saying started to suffocate you.

“That makes one of us,” you whispered, voice barely audible.

He turned away, moving toward the sealed vault door like it offered an escape he didn’t deserve. Like if he just got it open, everything could go back to the way it was before.

But nothing had changed that vault more than what happened inside. You saw the tremble in his hands as he reached for the control panel, the way his breath caught in his throat. It wasn’t over. Not even close.

The door would open. The team would come. They would ask questions. They would assume you were fine. But the real damage wasn’t the mission. It wasn’t the gas.

It was here, in this room, with sweat and skin and bitten-back moans, with words neither of you could say now without setting off the final detonation.

Because the real explosion, the one that mattered had already happened.

And there was no undoing it.

3K notes · View notes

realityrain · 17 days ago

Text

✴︎˚｡₊: ๋࣭ “world building” things to script * ౨🌎ৎ ࣪.ೃ࿔

˚𓏲 ͝ ⏝ ͝𐂯 light pollution doesn’t exist and space is extremely visible

˚𓏲 ͝ ⏝ ͝𐂯 overconsumption isn’t a problem especially needed products

˚𓏲 ͝ ⏝ ͝𐂯 only the rich and wealthy pay taxes

˚𓏲 ͝ ⏝ ͝𐂯 global warming, animal endangerment, over population , taxes , fees , insurance, homophobia, racism , corrupt governments , and more don't exist and don't need to.

˚𓏲 ͝ ⏝ ͝𐂯 many things are ethical like workplaces, schools, environments etc.

˚𓏲 ͝ ⏝ ͝𐂯 teenage and other pop culture develops accordingly

˚𓏲 ͝ ⏝ ͝𐂯 humanity is stronger and stable

˚𓏲 ͝ ⏝ ͝𐂯 all food Tastes way better and are made of good ingredients

˚𓏲 ͝ ⏝ ͝𐂯 social media trends and culture is progressive

˚𓏲 ͝ ⏝ ͝𐂯 the law, court, jailing and justice systems are actually good and effective.

˚𓏲 ͝ ⏝ ͝𐂯 pretty privilege doesn’t exist and it’s the norm to not care about others appearances

˚𓏲 ͝ ⏝ ͝𐂯 droughts , tornadoes and other natural disasters are never extremely deadly

˚𓏲 ͝ ⏝ ͝𐂯 animals/ plants are never endangered and no overpopulated / invasive species take over

˚𓏲 ͝ ⏝ ͝𐂯 all insurance is free along with medicare and treatments/medactions

˚𓏲 ͝ ⏝ ͝𐂯 over charging / scamming doesn’t exist

˚𓏲 ͝ ⏝ ͝𐂯 many medicine, treatments, equipment etc are way more effective

˚𓏲 ͝ ⏝ ͝𐂯 when women, children, etc. are denied their rights or exploited , dire government/ other consequences are inevitable

˚𓏲 ͝ ⏝ ͝𐂯 most crimes, reports, neglect, etc. are taken very seriously immediately

this is my first ever post like this / in format so i hope you enjoy!! please leave any comments below!!

1K notes · View notes

northgazaupdates · 9 months ago

Text

My friend Suad is despondent. She and her family have been displaced since the IOF bombed their home in Gaza City nearly a year ago. They have eked out an existence in shelter centers, friends’ and strangers’ homes, tents, and even open streets. Her firstborn Khaled was born under IOF bombing, and has struggled with malnutrition for his entire life up to this point. They have been displaced over a dozen times, often barely escaping before their prior location was bombed. You can read more about this situation in our “#Suad Ahmad” tag, as Tumblr has inexplicably deleted Suad’s blog for the 4th time.

The bombing is almost constant, and the debris dust from the bombs is so omnipresent that little Khaled struggles to breathe. Contaminants in the air, water, and scarce supply of food cause him to break out in frequent rashes, which occasionally ally afflict Suad as well. Khaled also has a frequent fever caused by a chest infection for which there are little or no available antibiotics.

Khaled requires medications, doctor visits, and the use of specialized breathing equipment for medical treatment which can only be used when a kind stranger allows the family to power the machine with their solar panels. As an infant, he also requires diapers. Astonishingly, the price of diapers in Gaza has risen to over $50 USD for a small pack. Anyone who has ever spent time with a baby knows that babies require mountains of diapers. $50 barely buys a day’s worth in Gaza.

Additionally, this is going to be Khaled’s first winter, which means he has no winter clothes of any kind. There are some winter clothes for infants for sale in Gaza, but they are extremely expensive. Khaled is sick and also suffers from malnutrition, making him more vulnerable to the elements. Winters in Gaza are wet, windy, and cold, and this past winter saw the deaths of many infants and young children due to hypothermia.

Suad has been running a campaign to support her family’s evacuation for several months, but progress has been sporadic. The evacuation costs are exorbitantly high, and the cost of hopefully beginning their lives anew in Egypt will be extremely high also. In the mean time, Suad requires mutual aid for food, water, medications, winter clothes, doctor visits, diapers, and transportation.

This little boy deserves everything. He deserves to only know joy, to learn and grow in safety and health. He was born into a world which is largely neglectful of his suffering. Please be the exception. Please help this little boy and his family survive in a world that has turned its back on them.

Thank you❤️

Link to support Khaled, Suad, and their family

4K notes · View notes

resourcesmasterposts · 9 months ago

Text

Verified Ways to Donate to Gaza Directly

(updated Sep 2024)

Donate to a Palestinian family directly:

GazaFunds.com - Spotlights 1 stagnant/struggling GFM each time you visit the page. Donate directly to a Palestinian family in urgent need of evacuation, medical treatment or basic necessities. Site run by Palestinians, all campaigns verified.

(*If you can't decide who/where to donate, simply go to GazaFunds.com. They take the decision out of your hands.)

Masterlist of 200+ verified Palestinian families' GFMs: Operation Olive Branch

eSIMs: (*urgent!)

Guide to buy + send eSIMs to Gaza

Crips for eSims for Gaza: Donate any amount to this team of volunteers who pool funds to buy + maintain eSIMs for Gaza regularly (see their financial accountability document).

Food:

Cruelty-Free Meals for North Gaza: 4 Palestinian friends on the ground in Gaza distributing vegan-friendly meals & water to displaced families in North Gaza. Proof of their work found on their GFM page. (gfm)

We Feed Gaza: Palestinian volunteers in the heart of Gaza distributing food & water to 344+ families. Details & proof in their gfm. Vetted & promoted by LetsTalkPalestine on IG. (gfm)

Other reliable campaigns by Palestinian volunteers on the ground in Gaza distributing food & necessities to displaced families: Care for Gaza, Direct Aid for Gaza

Water: (*urgent and crucial)

Gaza Municipality: The Municipality of Gaza needs funds to rebuild the water pipes in Gaza City to restore access to clean drinking water & waste management. Crucial in combating the spread of infectious diseases e.g. polio.

Help provide tents:

The Sameer Project: Provides tents & transport for families in Rafah who urgently need to evacuate. Has a team on the ground in Gaza who successfully supplied tents to 1% of the displaced refugees in Rafah. Run by Palestinians. (paypal, venmo) (chuffed)

@helpgazachildren: Funds go directly to Hussam, a Palestinian in Rafah who hosts a refugee camp. Funds will cover the cost of tents & transport fuel. Managed by a Palestinian @fairuzfan. (gfm)

Medical Aid:

Gaza Wound Care: Palestinian doctors in central Gaza treating injured/sick children & mothers in neglected displacement camps far from hospitals. Severe shortage of medicines, equipment, & medical supplies. Raising funds to treat diseases in refugee camps. (gfm) (paypal) (gogetfunding)

international charities: Palestine Red Crescent Society, Palestine Children's Relief Fund, Medical Aid for Palestinians

How to help if you can't donate:

Share + amplify Palestinian fundraisers in your irl + online circles

Organize or help to run an online/irl event to raise funds for Palestine

Boycott

Get involved with a protest/strike/direct action in your area

Contact your reps

Educate yourself + others, irl + online

Daily clicks on Arab.org

(Longer masterpost of all ways you can help)

These links focus on Palestinian-run grassroots initiatives that will reach Gazans on the ground, so all of these except eSIMs, PCRF, MAP, OOB are by Palestinians. Donating to international organizations is currently not ideal, as aid is still being stopped at the border. Please focus on Palestinian-run initiatives on the ground in Gaza instead.

Remember, small donations always add up. Any amount counts, even $1!

If you are unable to donate yourself, you can even adopt a fundraiser campaign to regularly boost and make materials promoting it online, or print posters and flyers about Palestinian fundraisers to encourage others to donate.

Poster/graphic about gazafunds.com

Flyers about eSIMs

Flyers about GazaFamilyFunds

#palestine #gaza #free palestine #free gaza #gaza genocide #palestinian fundraisers #palestine resources #palestine fundraisers #gaza fundraisers

3K notes · View notes

sheep-from-rad · 7 months ago

Text

this is inspired by @luludeluluramblings 's neglected! influencer! **I'll expand this later, I'm eepy**

*I don't own Rät. It belongs to Penelope Scott. Batfam belongs to DC*

Not gonna lie, everytime I read a Yandere Batfam x Neglected Reader (I wish we have more defiant one tbh, i have parental issues and I tell you I will never ever forgive my parents fast. It's my dad's fault I don't know how to ask for help and that everytime he's near me all my danger senses are high up. Ending this here before it becomes a rant/vent lol) all I can hear in my brain is Rät by Penelope Scott

Maybe we can do it like this: Neglected! reader uses music to let frustrations out and leading to them becoming this anon singer online. Reader started out with being a black screen singer at first, making covers of songs and then later they started when gaining popularity they started having this anime avatar or an anime persona (maybe even a vtuber model) and original songs left and right.

Reader lives a normal life flying under the radar in daylight but when alone they sing their hearts out in different songs, they even learn different languages for foreign songs too. I can imagine reader singing Japanese songs too something around Kikuo to One OK Rock covers.

AND THEN the big fight with Damian, reader really can't bear living in the mansion anymore. They bear it too much and now the bottle is already full. Before they left they dropped the song cover of Rät or maybe it's not even a cover in this AU, maybe they wrote the song in this AU. Gotham immediately loved the song maybe even tried to decipher the song too because singer! reader just dropped it and disappeared.

The song immediately gained notoriety because to the people of Gotham the song sounded like a protest. A question to the current hierarchy, a question to heroes and how villains came to be. No one still notices that the reader is missing until Tim was tasked to clean up some camera file storage around the mansion.

Tim watches every footage before cleaning it, no matter how boring it was to see if something went amiss while they are out on their secret vigilante nightlife. What did he find on the camera footage? He found the reader going around their bedroom and to the attic back and forth with a microphone and few recording equipment. When he reviewed the attic footage he found clips and clips of reader singing, editing, and uploading videos.

Suddenly, the last song they dropped made sense. The lyrics made sense. It was about them not about Gotham society.

#yandere #yandere batfam #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfamily #batfam #platonic yandere #platonic yandere batfam #neglected reader

2K notes · View notes

elierlick · 1 year ago

Text

Tennessean trans man David Scott Ryan III transitioned in 1949, around age 26. He became a pastor in 1955 while passing as cis and preached throughout Arkansas and Oklahoma for years. Narratives like David's narratives don't often end well, but David successfully fought to live as a man! Here's his story:

Born in rural Oklahoma on 9/22/1923, David privately transitioned in 1949 before marrying his first known wife, chaplain Margie. He then married another woman named Gwyn after leaving Margie in 1953. He later married a third wife, Glenda, in 1960.

David was outed after his 1961 bigamy arrest. It's unclear if his bigamy was accidental or even real. Gwyn filed for divorce in March 1960 before he married Glenda in June, but documents do not show if the divorce was completed. Glenda filed the bigamy complaint herself for unknown reasons. Was it jealousy? Was David outed? Was she feeling neglected? Glenda did not speak with reporters.

David was far from the first trans man arrested for marrying a woman. Yet, the courts did not know what to do with him. The judge dismissed his case after 4 months of jail and he stayed out of the news for a decade.

There are countless cases like David Ryan in the mid-20th century- trans people who make the news for a few weeks before fading into history. However, thanks to new archive technology, we can trace David's story further. He re-married a woman named May Louise and they divorced in 1971. He then married for a 5th and final time to high school teacher Imogene Cox in 1975. He took up jobs at a construction equipment site and Walmart in Evansville, Indiana over the following decades.

David passed in 2002 from heart disease at age 78. The mortician must have insisted on using an "F" for David despite "M" appearing on his other documents (why?). Local news reported that David loved to play instruments and paint. 50 years after transitioning, he still worked with the church.

#trans #transgender #history #lgbtq

3K notes · View notes

fairuzfan · 2 years ago

Text

This post is for the anon who sent me that video asking me to debunk it's claims so they can be better equipped against accusations of antisemitism.

Sorry, I won't post the video since I refuse to have that man on my blog but I can give you common Zionist talking points and the illogicality behind it.

To preface: most of the questions Zionists will ask you are a trap, and will make you fall into a "rabbit hole" (as I was once told when I was younger), as we try to apply their reasoning. My advice is to ALWAYS center the humanity of Palestinians. For example, when a Zionist says:

"Don't Jews deserve a homeland to be safe?"

It fundamentally ignores the core issue: Palestinians are being raped, murdered, and expelled from their homes so that the establishment of this so called "homeland" may exist. When people ask this to you, I personally advise saying something like:

Why must Palestinians suffer for the establishment of this homeland?

Always recenter to the issue at hand—the inhumane removal and treatment of Palestinians.

"Palestine belongs to the Jews and Not Muslims"

The whole premise of this claim is flawed—there is a weird tendency to equate Arab/Palestinian=Muslim when it just is like. Completely untrue. There are Palestinian Christians, Bethlehem is famously a Christian city, who have been there for centuries. There are Palestinian Jews, who have been there for centuries. There are Palestinian Muslims, who have been there for centuries. My grandpa told me stories of how he would turn on lamps for his Jewish neighbors in Al-Khalil (or Hebron) during Shabbat.

To claim that Palestine is EITHER Islamic or Jewish doesn't make any sense and completely neglects the fact that dissemination of culture has occurred for centuries, as well as the intermingling of people throughout generations. To somehow assert that for some reason, Jews and Muslims did not have ANYTHING to do with each other—did not create together, did not build families together, did not build culture together, all while being PALESTINIAN—is incredibly racist and nonsensical. "Palestinian" is not a religious identity—it's a cultural and ethnic one.

Also, it does not negate the core issue—Palestinians are being killed, removed, and tortured so that others can live on that land.

"Well what about [something about partitioning land]?"

Honestly like, who cares about the partitioning throughout the 1900 and early 2000s. Sorry, I'm not going to list the whole "partitioning" history nonsense. The whole reason "Israel" exists is because of a Mass Exodus, murder, and rape of Palestinians. Everything after that is rendered obsolete.

"Well, I heard Palestinians allied with Hitler"

I don't know how to tell you this but Palestine was under British Control. No they didn't.

"Israel withdrew from the Gaza and left them to themselves and they put Hammas in charge"

Oh yeah, Israel totally left Gaza, that's why Gazans' water, electricity, internet, and food is completely controlled by Israel (this is sarcasm, Israel still controls basic life in Gaza).

Go back to centering the idea that no human deserves to be shoved into an open-air prison, starved, and controlled. Did you know that the Zionist Entity controls the amount of water Gazans receive, as well as counting their calories to ensure they don't have enough energy on a day to day basis?

"I heard Israel asked Arabs to stay"

Show them these papers and videos when they say this:

youtube

If you can't show them these videos, check in the next point what to say.

"Well the Palestinians left of their own will in 1948"

Palestinians in 1948 didn't "leave." They had heard of how the Zionist Entity was slaughtering Palestinians en masse. Women especially heard stories of rape and sexual violence. They fled from *violence*. Again, from an earlier post, that this was a calculated effort on the Zionist Entity's part to try and get them to "leave" on their own and "abandon" their houses so that they can come in and say "hey, they left on their own so, we can come in and take their houses now."

Anyways, the idea that once you leave your house you can't ever come back to it is incredibly odd to me as an argument on Zionists' part. Like if you leave your house right now to go to the grocery store and you come back and see someone in your house and they're like "sorry dude, this is my house now, you left so that means you can't come back," you'd be like, "what the hell!" It would be even weirder if everyone agreed with the guy who took your house, which is what happened to Palestinians.

In Al-Khalil, or Hebron, Palestinians always have to have someone stay in their house or else a Settler will come in and take it from them. So it still goes on today as well.

This is not a point, but when that one person in the video said "Arabs lived under Israeli rule" and showed a clip of a bustling city with mountains, I'm pretty sure that was Amman, Jordan, not Palestine lol. Those buildings in the mountains look like how downtown Amman builds the residential areas. Could be wrong tho.

"There are no Jews living under Palestinian rule in Palestine"

What is this, some sort of gotcha argument? What are they trying to prove, the racist (obviously false) notion that Palestinians hate Jews as a whole? How do they know no Palestinian Jew lives in Gaza? Also, Settlers in Palestinian Territory exist??? I had never heard this claim before, its incredibly stupid lol. You're automatically a citizen of "Israel" if you're Jewish, whether or not you live in or outside of Palestinian Territories. So of course technically they don't live under Palestinian rule, they're granted full rights as an "Israeli" citizen automatically!

Go back to talking about the inhumane treatment of Palestinians, I wouldn't bring up the above counterpoint unless they really won't let it go since the main point is mistreatment.

"Why are Christians supporting Israel then, if it's a secular issue rather than a religious one?"

Well actually for a couple reasons:

Oil interests and regional control of goods (White People Supporting White People).

Weird fundamentalist ideology where they want to enact the second coming of Christ.

And finally because they are racist and don't think Arab Christians deserve to live. They literally bombed a 1500+ year church the other day. Why would (White) Christians cosign that.

Anyways, its a stupid argument again, because it forgets the core issue of Palestinians dying and being displaced.

In summary, always go back to the point of centering the Palestinians being displaced, tortured, and murdered, no matter the argument a Zionist gives you.

#palestine #gaza #info post #maybe i should do a masterpost with links to palestine education #maybe later #Youtube

6K notes · View notes

thewritingfairy · 2 months ago

Text

↪ 04.1 Jason's crime

04 - Distraction is the best medicine trigger warnings: violence, gaslighting, physical + emotional neglect, misgendering (reader isn't out to the batfamilty yet), pre-disabled Reader (Reader's illness/chronic pain hasn't flared up yet), loss of heirlooms, grief, anger, pitt-mad Jason main m.list series m.list

You were just tired. You had met Damian Wayne, your 10-year-old blood-related brother, that was raised in a cult. That was all you knew, and because of that he hates you. He sees you as a bastard, he sees you as something to destroy, he attacked Tim and you. And Bruce had the audacity to ask you two to forgive him, but when Tim didn’t, it wasn’t a crime. It was understandable. But when you didn’t, Alfred was on your neck. Telling you how disappointed your mother would be if you were to hold onto this childish resentment.

Damian and you did reach an agreement early on, he would stay away from your property and you would stay away from him. You wouldn’t be hostile towards him as long as he wasn’t (which quite frankly was harder for Damian then he originally expected), while it wasn’t the close bond you hoped for. It was better than the bond you had with your other siblings and honorary family members. When Jason rose from the dead you hoped that you two could be close.

But when he found out you were brought in just a few months after his death something snapped inside him. You could understand his anger for how quickly Bruce took in Tim, but you couldn’t understand his anger at you. You had no choice, your mother dead and Bruce was the only option to take you in. Yet Jason wasn’t thinking logical, Jason was filled with resentment. And you understand that feeling, don’t you?

But you couldn’t feels sorry for him, you couldn’t forgive him for what he did. Jason had marched right into your room while you were cleaning up the heirlooms your mother had left for you. They were your most prized possessions, the last things you had left from your mother’s side of your family.

“Do you need anything?” You had asked Jason in the kindest tone you could. You were terrified, his eyes looked like they were glowing, the white streak in his hair glaring at you as if you did something wrong. Jason didn’t answer, he just started tearing apart your room.

“Why do you have everything I have ever wanted!” he had shouted at you, which caused you to step away from your desk as he ransacked your room. Destroying all your posters, your awards, your clothes as he shouted all sort of obscenities at you. As he shouted out his resentment, you were frozen. You couldn’t move. You were crying, by everything that’s holy you were terrified.

Then his eyes were set on your desk, your body started to move shielding most of your heirlooms. But you were too late. Jason’s anger had turned on your heirlooms, and you.

You were so terrified you screamed. You screamed for Alfred, you screamed for your mother as you felt a bone break and eventually you screamed for your father as dark spots covered your eyes.

When you woke up you were in a different room, a room that didn’t feel like yours yet was an exact replica. You were in pain, you couldn’t move without feeling a stabbing pain, surrounded by hospital equipment, yet you weren’t in a hospital. And then you saw him, Jason, and you felt anger. You felt nothing but anger, you felt disappointment that Alfred, no scratch that, any of your family would let him near you.

“I’m sorry,” he had apologised, but angry tears streamed down your face as you remember your family’s heirlooms shattering. “I’ll try to replace or fix your heirlooms.” His apology wasn’t sincere, he spat that last part out and anger rose in your chest.

“Get out,” you hissed, something that made Jason freeze. “how dare you, get the fuck out!” Your shout got the attention of Damian and Alfred, your bloodshot eyes and hurt body shocked Damian. He had never seen anyone this hurt, well he has. But those he saw like this, were dead. “Don’t touch any of my stuff. Do not touch my families legacy!”

Jason sneered, but didn’t say anything. No, he looked helplessly at Alfred. But it wasn’t him who stood up for him. “He offered to fix it for you,” Damian had hissed. “show some compassion, you haven’t been through half he has.”

Alfred said nothing, and your heart broke that day. Your heart fell in pieces. “Get out!” you shouted again. “Get out! Get out! Get out!” You were straining your body, you were trying to get out of bed, you wanted to be away from all of them. “Don’t show your face to me, get out Todd, or by everything’s that holy I will curse you!” Your throat was getting dry, your vocal cords high and pitchy. You were in distress and Alfred just stood there. “You destroyed centuries of heirlooms. Centuries of legacy, you destroyed most of what I had left. What I had left of a family that I never got to meet, I will be damned if I let you touch them again.”

Your words were enough to get Jason to leave, but not without one last scathing comment; “whiny bitch, I said I was sorry.” his eyes flashed green again and Damian went after him. But not without giving you a disappointed glare.

Finally Alfred spoke up; “I’ve gathered everything, even the broken objects in those boxes on your desk.” You glared at him as he placed down a cup of water. “You will stay home from school until you’re healed up, well at least until you don’t look like you’ve been beaten.”

You scoffed; “I have been beaten.”

“Master Jason didn’t mean to,” Alfred told you harshly, but when he noticed that your face had become even more tear stricken and your eyes even redder he bit his lip. “I mean, there are somethings you do not understand, I must ask you to forgive master Jason for this.”

“Forgive?!” You had shouted, smacking his hand away as he tried to brush your hair out of your face. “I should be pressing charges!”

Alfred stepped back, oh how you looked like your mother. “Master Bruce won’t allow it.”

You laughed hysterically. “I’ve always known he doesn’t love me, but this? This is just pathetic, even for him.” Alfred shook his head, you could already hear him spouting the same excuses you’ve always heard. “Get out Alfred, before I cannot look at you anymore.”

You had never lashed out before, this was the angriest Alfred had ever seen you. But he saw something else in your eyes as well, disappointment. “Do not let anger cloud your judgement,” he said before leaving. “your mother would have wanted you to forgive Jason, your mother would have wanted you to forgive your family.”

“Do not speak of my mother,” you had shot back. “my family is my mother’s family not these godforsaken people!”

When he had left it wasn’t long before Dick had tried to convince you to forgive Jason. Telling you he was traumatised, that there was something that they couldn’t tell you, but he promised that he didn’t mean to do this. Tim had come by but only to drop off your phone, the necklace your mother had left you and your tablet. “I fixed it,” he had told you. “rest up.”

Then Bruce finally visited you, but only because Alfred had told him that you wanted to press charges. “I understand that you are angry,” he had said, he didn’t even greet you or ask how you were doing. “but I will not give you permission to press charges against Jason, he has been through things you nor I can understand—”

“Wow,” you had interrupted while sniffling. You didn’t want to cry anymore, he didn’t deserve your tears. “not even a ‘how are you?’ or ‘I’m sorry for letting you be attacked in your own room’.” Bruce tensed, and he had the audacity to look he felt shame. “get the fuck out, I’ve already heard enough excuses for Todd today.” And for once Bruce listened you.

But that day something became crystal clear to you, you are not a priority in the Wayne household. You are not seen as a family member. Even Alfred views you as an outsider and an easy and obedient child at best. This was the day your resentment started to show, this was the day that the dam broke.

And this was the day you learned you could not depend on Bruce Wayne nor Alfred when it came to your health. This was the day you started calling your father Bruce.

Taglist: @prettiest-thing-in-the-morgue, @shadowytravelerlover, @1abi, @leeiasure, @frank-vanderboom, @stove-top96, @amber-content, @lithiumval, @bunniotomia, @chericia, @marsmabe, @cssammyyarts, @lingxio, @foolishseven, @kore-of-the-underworld, @bunbunboysworld, @homeless-clown, @alwaysholymilkshake, @miashico, @kittzu (if you do not want to be tagged for side stories pls do say so)

881 notes · View notes

courtana · 1 year ago

Text

📌 Mutual Aid, Fundraisers, and Actions

a white heart "🤍" denotes GFM campaigns who have reached out to me via in my inbox

I will be updating this as frequently as possible with new information, campaigns, and forms of supporting displaced and vulnerable folks in Palestine, Sudan, DRC, Ukraine, and elsewhere.

Vetted GFM Campaigns 🤝

🤍 Donate to Khader and Ragheb - [€708 raised of €55,000 goal]

🤍 Donate to Amira - [€5,118 raised of €20,000 goal]

🤍 Donate to Fadi Ayyad - [$9,530 raised of $35,000 goal]

🤍 Donate to Hani Al-Sharif [$445 raised of $50,000 goal]

🤍 Donate to Mohammed Alanqer [€18,196 raised of €38,000 goal]

🤍 Donate to Ahmed Alanqer [€16,338 raised of €35,000 goal]

🤍 Donate to Kareem and Carmen [$6,971 raised of $50,000 goal]

🤍 Donate to Walaa & her family [$3,405CAD raised of $50,000 goal]

🤍 Donate to the Shamaly family [$23,910CAD raised of $90,000 goal]

🤍 Donate to Basel Ayyad [CHF1,828 raised of CHF60,000 goal]

🤍 Donate to Ashraf Alanqar [€1,463 raised of €30,000 goal]

🤍 Donate to Musab [€705 raised of €7,000 goal]

🤍 Donate to Ahmed and his family [£5,253 raised of £30,000 goal]

🤍 Donate to Alaa and her children [€2,995 raised of €20,000 goal]

🤍 Donate to Dr. Mohammed Aldeeb [€23,929 raised of his €30,000 goal]

Palestine 🇵🇸

Donate to the Palestinian Red Crescent Society - humanitarian org serving the health and welfare of the Palestinian people

Donate an eSIM for Gaza - helps Palestinians to connect to the outside world

Donate to Gaza Direct Aid - small volunteer-run program funding humanitarian aid in Gaza

Donate to Care for Gaza - supporting displaced families in Gaza

Donate to GazaFunds - find a struggling fundraiser to support

Sudan 🇸🇩

Donate to the Sudanese American Physicians Association - provides critical medical aid, food, and water

Donate to Sudan Solidarity Collective - provides direct financial assistance to civilian-led groups

Sudan Diaspora Network's Sudan Benefit Fundraiser - supports displaced Sudanese by providing medical equipment and food

Fight Hunger in Sudan: The Khartoum Kitchen appeal - feeds the hungry, up to 1,250 people daily, in the greater Khartoum area

Help Sudan- Sudan Relief Fund - helps people on the ground with immediate needs such as food, water, shelter and medication

Congo 🇨🇩

Donate to Focus Congo - partnerships with local grassroots organizations and access to resources necessary for survival

Support Friends of the Congo & the Basandja Coalition - provides food, delivers reporting, rescues children from the cobalt mines and supports diggers and miners demanding accountability, combats sexual violence and provides care for women’s health

Action Kivu - dedicated to repairing the harm done by years of violence and neglect in this region with focus on women and children.

Mutual Aim team fundraiser for Congo, Sudan, and Tigray - campaign collecting money that will be will be divided between the DRC, Sudan, and Tigray

Ukraine 🇺🇦

United 24 – main venue for collecting charitable donations in support of Ukraine

Come Back Alive – provides support to service members in Ukraine

Prytula foundation – provides support to Ukrainian Defense Forces and affected civilians

Dzyga’s Paw – provides Ukrainian Defenders with high-tech equipment

#pinned post

2K notes · View notes

pomegranatelifethis · 3 months ago

Note

Batfam with reader who is obsessed with birds and works at an aviary? Not necessarily yandere or neglected reader but they just never knew and now they’re all questioning if they got into birds because their family is nicknamed bats and birds.

Reader admits not necessarily, they just had too much free time because they aren’t a vigilante and started looking into actual Robins and other birds. Now the whole family is visiting the aviary and donating whenever because they see how much reader loves the place. Cuz let’s be honest—an aviary in Gotham would probably be kind of sad or used for birds who can’t go back to the wild or need the high tech vet equipment.

In the sky

The fact that there was an aviary in Gotham was strange enough, but this place was especially unique. It was a sanctuary for birds that couldn’t return to the wild or needed special care. In the midst of the city's chaos, it was a quiet place, filled with the sound of fluttering wings and soft chirps.

And this was where [Name] found themselves coming every day—eventually even volunteering.

The rest of the Batfamily had no idea. At least, not for a while. They assumed [Name] was just as busy as they were, running through the shadows, fighting crime. But the truth was, [Name] spent their free time with birds.

How did they find out?

By accident.

One day, Dick had been looking for fun anecdotes about the name "Robin" when he stumbled upon [Name]’s search history. Gotham’s bird species, interesting facts about old Robins, hunting techniques of raptors—the list went on. Then, one day, Tim spotted [Name] entering the aviary. Curious, he followed.

And he couldn’t believe what he saw.

[Name] was holding an injured hawk, their eyes shining with affection.

That day, everything changed.

First, Tim came by to check it out. Then Dick. Then Jason, just to see what all the fuss was about. Damian, already an animal lover, didn’t take long to join. Eventually, even Bruce found himself there.

And so, Gotham’s most dangerous family started making regular donations to an aviary.

Of course, [Name] understood that they probably felt some kind of connection because of their bird-themed codenames. But the truth was much simpler: [Name] just loved birds. It was an escape from Gotham’s noise, from the chaos, from the life of masks and fights.

Still, after seeing how much it meant to [Name], their family kept donating more and more.

Bruce framed it as a strategic investment. (“It’s important for Gotham’s ecosystem.”)

Jason just shrugged. “At least these winged creatures don’t scream at me.”

Dick declared, “This place is amazing!” and immediately started suggesting names for the birds.

Damian asked, “Can I bring Titus?”

And Tim? Tim was still suspicious about [Name]’s deep dive into bird research.

“Are you trying to tell us something?” he asked one day.

[Name] rolled their eyes while petting an owl. “I just have too much free time.”

But their family? Whether they meant to or not, they had become a part of [Name]’s world.

The family's visits to the aviary had become a tradition. At first, they were just curious—why was [Name] so attached to this place? But over time, each of them admitted that, in a strange way, it was soothing.

Of course, they experienced it in their own chaotic ways.

Dick always tried to talk to a parrot or a crow whenever he visited. One day, he winked at an injured sparrow and said, “Look, another orphan.” Jason muttered, “If I ever need to send a message to someone I want dead, I’ll do it with a raven.” Damian, while feeding a crippled hawk, had decided to name it “Death Talon.”

Bruce? He mostly stood in the background, made donations, and ensured everyone was happy.

But Tim… Tim was still suspicious.

“Okay,” he said one day, crossing his arms as he looked at [Name]. “Tell me the truth. Did you… get inspired by us?”

[Name] furrowed their brows while holding a pigeon. “Why would I do that?”

“Because!” Tim gestured broadly at the entire aviary. “Your whole life is about birds! Out of everything in Gotham, isn’t it weird that you ended up working in an aviary?”

[Name] thought for a moment.

Yes, maybe it was weird. But when they first visited, they had found solace in escaping Gotham’s cold and chaotic atmosphere. Here, in this warm space filled with the sound of fluttering wings, there was no crime. No gunfire. Just wounded creatures trying to heal.

Then, they smiled softly.

“Maybe I just haven’t gotten used to having free time without being an outlaw.”

Tim stared at them for a long moment. Then he sighed. “Alright. But I’m still suspicious.”

And so, the Bat Family remained Gotham’s most unusual benefactors. At some point, Bruce’s foundation even became an official sponsor of the aviary.

And in that way, [Name]’s world and their family—under wings—became a little more connected.

---

You knew this was a bad idea within the first five minutes.

But what could you do? Dick had insisted, "We can all help in some way!" Tim had said, "With our organizational skills, we can make this place more efficient." Jason had just shrugged and said, "Count me in, might be fun." And when Bruce said, "Contributing to the community is a good thing," you knew there was no escape.

And now, here you were. Having made the biggest mistake of your life.

---

Dick – Pigeon Chaos

You told Dick to just feed the pigeons. Simple task. But this was Dick. And nothing ever stayed simple with him.

"Alright, everyone, form a line!" he called out, throwing the feed into the air.

Wrong move.

Because within a minute, dozens of pigeons swarmed.

At first, Dick was amused. Then, he realized they were flying straight at him.

"AH! OKAY! TOO MANY! TOO MANY!" he shouted, stumbling back. But it was too late. The pigeons had already landed on his shoulders, arms, and head.

Jason collapsed onto the ground, laughing. "We could leave you here as Alfred's new garden decoration."

Dick, panic all over his face, narrowed his eyes. "If you don’t help me, I’m dragging you into this."

Jason took a step back. "Fine, fine, enjoy yourself."

Meanwhile, one of the pigeons started pecking at Dick’s hair.

---

Jason – A Predator Problem

Jason had made a grave mistake by saying, "I can handle the birds of prey."

And now, a very intense-looking owl was challenging him.

"Look, buddy," Jason said, staring at the owl perched in front of him. "I’m just trying to feed you. Stop giving me that look."

The owl glared harder.

Jason narrowed his eyes.

The owl narrowed its eyes.

Neither moved.

You took a deep breath. "Jason, please stop trying to establish dominance over an owl."

Jason sighed, realizing the owl was still glaring at him. "Forget this."

Just as he turned away, the owl spread its wings and launched itself directly at him.

And in that moment, Gotham’s deadliest assassin started running around, yelling, "AH! AH! GET OFF ME!"

Tim pulled out his phone. "This is definitely getting recorded."

With the owl now proudly perched on his head, Jason admitted defeat.

---

Tim – Smart Guy, Dumb Mistake

Tim’s job was simple: prepare the birds' medicine.

And Tim, naturally, turned it into a science experiment.

"If I optimize the dosage system, we can save time," he muttered, mixing a small batch into a bottle.

The result?

The bottle exploded.

Medicine splattered everywhere.

And Tim, now covered in a greenish-blue liquid, slowly blinked.

Jason fell to the ground, laughing again. "And thus, Dr. Frankenstein continues to terrorize the aviary."

Tim opened his mouth, then closed it. Then, he lowered his head. "Maybe... I didn’t need to make everything more efficient."

You sighed. "YES, TIM. MAYBE YOU DIDN’T."

Damian – The Overly Serious Falcon Trainer

Damian took on the task of handling the falcons. This should have been the least chaotic.

Except he was staring at the birds way too seriously, silently trying to train them.

"We will work together," he declared, locking eyes with a small falcon. "You and I will be Gotham’s greatest duo."

Tim snorted. "Damian, that bird probably just wants food."

Damian lifted his chin proudly. "He has great potential."

Jason rolled his eyes. "I know a bird with great potential. Its name is KFC."

Damian shot him a death glare.

Jason shrugged. "What? Just a joke."

At that moment, the small falcon grabbed onto Damian’s cape with its beak.

And Damian lost his balance and fell.

Everyone went silent.

Then Jason collapsed in laughter again.

Bruce – The Dark Knight vs. A Tiny Sparrow

And then, it was Bruce’s turn.

All he had to do was return a tiny, harmless sparrow to its cage.

Simple, right?

Wrong.

Because the sparrow escaped.

And flew straight into Bruce’s collar.

And that’s how Gotham’s most terrifying man ended up wrestling with a tiny bird trying to get into his shirt.

"...This was not part of the plan," he said, stone-faced.

Jason wheezed. "BATMAN LOST TO A SPARROW!"

Tim was in tears. Dick was on the floor. Damian had buried his face in his hands, mortified.

You buried your head in your hands.

"...We are never doing this again."

But deep down, you had to admit—you kind of enjoyed the chaos.

@itsberrydreemurstuff @welpthisisboring @lilyalone @maria-trisha

524 notes · View notes