#i need like a week where i don't see *anyone*
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A symptom of this I often see is that a great many Americans also feel the need to highlight to the entire world around them when something they encounter is Other, or outside of their wheelhouse, and this applies even to the most mundane of things. I have two examples of this:
First, back in 2020, a lost walrus visited the Welsh town of Tenby for many weeks and menaced its lifeboats by sleeping on the slipway. I wrote a lengthy post about this, and included the fact that the good folks of West Wales named the walrus Wally, after the children's book franchise Where's Wally.
I was inundated with Americans reacting with everything from astonishment to derision that the character is not called Waldo outside of America. It was constant. Everything from "Wait you guys call him Wally??? Not Waldo???" all the way to "Are you guys fucking stupid his name is Waldo omg"
Which is very interesting, because Where's Wally is a British franchise. He was called 'Wally' first. His name was translated into over 30 other languages, including Charlie and Jonas, depending on region. Nonetheless, I did not get one single solitary note about the name from anyone else; it was exclusively Americans, unable to keep their amazement to themselves, unable to not highlight and point out that SOMETHING IS DIFFERENT FROM US.
Second, I once wrote a post in which I, a speaker of British English, used the word 'gaol' - the BE spelling of 'jail'. Again, I was flooded with comments, asks, messages, etc from Americans who simply could not fathom why I had done so. Four of them very literally sent me asks that asked why I had done it (I mean this literally - "Why did you spell jail like that?" was word for word one of the asks), so unable were they to work out on their own that spellings differ between dialects. I responded to one, saying that I was baffled by it, and suggesting that maybe the polite thing would be to google these sorts of things for yourself rather than requesting to have your hand held through the process of learning that other places have different words and spellings than you're used to. I said I did understand, but that this was something I myself fetched up against all the time with American media, and had since I was a child - but I simply used context clues to work out meaning, or google when I couldn't, because I get that American English is a different language.
And then two things happened: the first was that a non-trivial number of Americans lost their entire shit at the very suggestion that there was anything at all rude about this (again, I really don't know what answer they wanted to that beyond "Because that's how it's spelled in my language", information readily available with a single google search), and the second was that I was then inundated with non-Americans sharing stories of how they love writing fanfic but they had to start doing it in American English because when they used their own, they would get flooded with comments from Americans trying to 'correct' them, and it just wasn't worth the hassle.
And it's ultimately a 'dominant culture' sickness, I think. When everything is constantly catering to your understandings and cultural expectations, anything outside of it feels Other, and Must Be Commented Upon. I'm Welsh, and I find absolutely any mention of anything Welsh around most English people gets the same reaction; they absolutely have to comment on the Thing They Think Is Weird. Just last week I was discussing a fieldtrip for my students with an English colleague of mine, and I said I was taking them to the Bannau Brycheiniog. He didn't interrupt, to his credit; but he got the stupid grin that I knew meant he was going to comment. He waited until I finished asking for his risk assessment input, and then rather than answering, his first response was "The Bah Bah Bluh Bluh?"
If I'd said an Anglicised or English name, he'd have just continued the conversation. But he didn't recognise the name Bannau Brycheiniog. So We Must All Flag Up That It's Weird.
And that's dialled up to 11 for a great many Americans.
(Though not all, by a long shot. I do want to stress that. In both examples I've given, I had far more Americans who agreed with me than not. But it is a common behaviour, unfortunately.)

im american and i knew that like in kindergarten so i think some of you are just stupid sorry
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Every Saturday - Simon Riley x female reader



Tags - comfort, therapist x patient, eventual romance/smut
He didnât expect much from therapy, certainly not the easy conversations, the warm smiles, or the quiet way you made the weight on his chest feel lighter. Healing was never part of the plan, but neither was falling for you.
master list - chapter one
Originally, Simon didn't want a therapist. Didn't think he needed one. Didn't think talking about things would fix anything when the damage already ran down to the bone.
But Price had practically forced his handâ either he went to therapy once a week, every Saturday, or he was looking at months of mandatory leave. No in-between.
That was how Simon ended up sitting stiffly in a leather chair that felt too cold, too polished, offering no comfort. It didn't sink under his weight the way it should've. It stayed firm, If anything, it felt more like interrogation room. One wrong move and the walls might start closing in.
"How have you been?" you smiled, voice sweet and dewy like honey.
Yet Simon hesitated, shifting slightly in the chair that squeaked faintly under him. Taking out enemies had always come to him like second nature. Swift and clean. Talking though? Small talk, any talk? That was like pulling teeth. Like walking barefoot over glass.
"Good," he replied gruffly.Â
You continued to ask a few more questions. Probing lightly.Â
He continued to answer with dry, one worded responses. Vague enough to reveal nothing, flat enough to discourage curiosity. Eventually leading to a sigh escaping your lip. Quiet but heavy enough that it pulled his gaze upward, just for a second.
"Look, Simon. We have to talkâ" you started, gentle but he knew what you were hinting at.
"I can't- I just- I'm notâ" he snapped before he could stop himself, frustration bleeding out in broken words. His hands curled tighter around the leather arms of the chair, knuckles straining bone white under the pressure.
The air around him felt too thick, clinging heavy to his skin like a second unwanted layer.
He could already see where this was heading.
Knew the minefield you were guiding him toward, no matter how careful you made your voice.
The elephant or rather, elephants in the room.
Starting with the wreckage of his childhood, damage he carried like the blood in his body, stitched into him so deep it warped the way he breathed. Trailing all the way up to the blood-soaked memories of what Roda did to him and what he did to survive. Memories darker than the dead of night, when even the moon didn't dare shine.
"We don't have to talk about anything you don't want to," you said calmly. Like you were used to talking people back from cliffs. Your voice was the first thing in the room that didn't feel cold.
"How about we just start with how your week's been?"
Simon nodded stiffly. Fine. He could do that.
Maybe if he dragged it out long enough, stretched every word heavy and slow, he could burn the half hour down without you digging too deep at any the landmines buried inside him.
"I went to the grocery store on Wednesday," he started, after clearing his throat. "Stayed home the next day. Worked out a little. Drank some tea. Took Riley on a walk the next morning."
You nodded along as you listened, not even stopping him to ask who Riley was.
You just sat back, sipping from your Garfield mugâ the one Simon thought should've been thrown straight into a fire. The bright orange cartoon face grinning at him mockingly, almost like it knew how badly he hated being there.
He still couldn't figure out why anyone would spend money on something so hideous, but he supposed that was your problem, not his.
The conversation lulled and silence stretched thin between you when Simon ran out of words to say. He stared down at the beige looking carpet trying to lose himself in the shitty texture of it.
Maybe if he sat still enough, the clock would burn out on its own.
But you leaned forward, elbows on your knees, irritatingly persisted, still digging without a shovel.
"Tell me more about going to the grocery store."
Simon blinked at you like you'd just asked him to recount the meaning of life. Dumbfounded. The hell was there to say? He went in. Bought shit. Left.
You seemed to catch the look he threw, because you quickly clarified what you meant before he could follow his look up by abruptly leaving.
"What did you buy? Why were you there?"
He huffed under his breath.Â
"Tea. Chamomile tea. I was out, and some dog treats. For Riley."
You gave a tiny nod showing you were still listening, mentally checking off the question of who Riley was without saying it out loud.
"You like tea?" You smiled.
"I drink it." he muttered dryly. Three syllable. Just enough to make it a conversation by technicality.
He could've said more. Could've mentioned the brand, the weather that day, the smell of the shop aisles. Could've lied about being a fucking connoisseur just to fill space. But he didn't care enough to feed it.
"I'm more of a coffee person," you chuckled lightly, gesturing to your mug with a quick tilt of your hand. The stupid cartoon cat leering at him again. He didn't laugh, didn't even offer a quick grin at your attempted joke, but he caught the way your nose crinkled when you smiled, the way you tried to lighten the air without forcing it. Meanwhile he only seemed to darken it.
You sneaked a quick glance at your watch before looking up back at him.
4:34 PM.
"Oh, would you look at that. Time's up," you said with a soft smile, setting your mug down carefully.Â
Though before you could even get the rest of your words out, Simon was already pushing up out of the chair, practically halfway to the door. Big hands curling around the handle like it was his escape hatch.
"Oh, waitâ are you free next week around four?" you called out, a little breathless from how quick he'd moved.
"For the next session.â you added.
He wouldâve liked to say no. Would've rather sat around watching paint dry, scraping the walls bare with his nails just for something to do, than park his arse in that stiff leather chair again. Would've preferred getting shot at or standing in the pissing rain during a six hour stakeout. Anything but sitting there like an exhibit under your too cheerful for your own good eyes.
But eventually, with a heavy, begrudging huff, the words clawed their way out of him.
"Yeah. That'll do," he muttered gruffly before slipping out the door, the soft click of it closing sounding louder than it should've.
It looked like he couldn't wait to leave. And he couldn't, he had practically bolted, shoulders stiff, steps a little too fast for a man who prided himself on patience.
But as he made his way down the empty hallway, he huffed, glad you were at least annoying on a level he could tolerate.
Maybe I read it too much, but i dont really like how this first chapter turned but omg I have so many ideas for this fanfic ^^
#fanfic#ghost cod#call of duty#simon ghost riley#one shot#simon riley#simon riley headcanons#cod fanfic#simon riley fanfic#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simom riley x reader#simon ghost smut#smut#fluff#faniction#ao3 fanfic#cod fic#cod x reader
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The Pitt Fic Recs Part 1
This list will include all ratings and tags, so read at your own discretion! :)
This Is The Day In Chaos by NameStartsWithN - Rated G
As the Pitt descends into its usual chaos, Dr Robby brings coffee and encouragement to his beleaguered team. Samira Mohan and Dennis Whittaker bond, while Mel King finally makes a joke -- intentionally!
The Dead Donât Answer by NameStartsWithN - Rated G
Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch learned a long time ago that death isnât quietâitâs a symphony of chaos, a brutal soundtrack of screaming monitors, cracking ribs, and the rush of hands fighting the inevitable. At Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Hospital, there are always calls for help. Because the dead donât answer. But the living donât have a choice.
The Aftermath by AGirlHasNoName20 - Rated T
Two weeks after Pittfest, Robby is presented with a choice. Or: The one in which Robby starts therapy. Don't read unless you've watched the entire season 1.
Rules of Law by jumpfall - Rated G
The night Robby signed his attending contract, he was introduced to the Laws According to Adamson. He likes to hope that if he leaves his trainees with nothing else, it'll be the Addendums According to Robby. - Alternatively, is it really a fandom until there's a five things fic?
To Be A Doctor by mossterious -Rated G
Four student doctors. Four paths to get there. Four points of view. One hospital. â Aka I need to get used to writing different character povs SO HAVE SOME TINY CHARACTER STUDIES I GUESS?!
people come and go on the breeze by sweetmuses - Rated M
Redemption is a hard, long journey. She knows this probably better than most people. You have to keep yourself afloat amongst the madness, being acutely aware of tipping back into the ether. Itâs easier to live within the boundless ocean of guilt than to take accountability - because to take accountability means that youâre willing to work for it, and thereâs no way of knowing when youâll slip up and fall.
Or: A reflection on the in-betweens of life, ghosts, and the human condition, through the eyes of Cassie McKay.
In Memoriam by fundotperiod - Rated G
How Robby has grieved and remembered his mentor.
Reflection by ZHH123 - Rated G
She thinks back on all the moments she almost couldnât bear. The moments that prompted her to question if she belonged in the pitt. Then she thinks of her triumphs.
Last Call by jumpfall - Rated T
âSorry if I woke you,â Robby says. Jack shrugs. âMiddle of the day in my time zone.â He waits a beat, and then asks, âYou want to talk?â âNo.â âYou want a drink?â âYou'd allow that?â âNo,â Jack says. âJust lets me gauge how concerned I should be.â â 1x15 episode tag.
The Pitt Crew! by megas217 - Rated G
Welcome to the Pitt Crew a story about the doctors and nurses who work in the Pitt.
Sursum Corda by Celebratory Penguin (cpenguing) - Rated M
A few hours after Pittfest, Langdon returns to the ED.
The Way, Way Back by jumpfall - Rated T
Robby, post 1x13.
And I Said Nothing by elpopooley66 - Rated T
Trinity Santos is not okay. Sheâs never really been okay. But sheâs held herself together this long â on caffeine, adrenaline, and silence sharp enough to cut. The Pitt sees it. Langdon sees it. And for once, maybe she lets herself be seen. They donât fix her. They just donât leave. Sometimes, thatâs enough. Featuring: unresolved trauma, a lobster named Greb, a borrowed hoodie, and the terrifying prospect of letting someone care. Or: the one where she stops pretending sheâs fine â and someone finally calls her bluff.
what a weight to live under by shirelings - Rated T
Melâs convinced sheâs made it to the door without anyone noticing her before a voice stops her dead in her tracks. âDr. King.â Itâs said in that sort of way thatâs not really a question even if someone else would frame it like that, and Mel lets her shoulders rise up a little towards her ears as she slowly turns. Oh, boy. - Mel does, in fact, talk to Abbot at the end of the day.
Change of Watch by jumpfall - Rated T
When Robby's phone vibrated twenty minutes ago, he'd been dealing with a critical GSW to the adbomen and unable to answer. Now there's a voicemail from Jake.
Even Grouches Need to Go to the Hospital by lolathatch - Rated T
Trinity Santos finds a video of Doctor Robby from his younger days and makes it everyone's problem.
singing in unison by dotsayers - Rated M
Leah's sick the night before Pittfest. Robby gets his ticket back.
just a drop of water in an endless sea by evening_spirit - Rated G
Robbyâs going to be fine, a rational part of Frankâs mind says. Youâre the last person Robby needs right now, says another part, the one that hates himself. But Frank saw the look in Robbyâs eyes and he knows that Robby is not fine. Not this time. And no one else will help. But should it be him? Maybe he should go get Dana? Abbot? Damn, if at least Collins was here. But Collins is not here, Dana doesnât have anything more to give and Abbot is a pragmatic, a doer, not someone who would comfort another. Then again, neither is Frank. Or--a 1x13 coda where Frank and Robby talk, but it doesn't really solve anything.
Aftershocks by jumpfall - Rated T
Ways they are (and aren't) coping with the mass casualty incident.
living weighs heavier by Antumbra - Rated T
Maybe none of them were ever meant to be alright, not once theyâd chosen to devote themselves to this career that could only tear them down and break them apart. Or: an alternate take where Jack finds Robby after his breakdown.
#veryace recs#the pitt#the pitt max#doctor robby#michael robinavitch#heather collins#dana evans#jack abbot#frank langdon#dr. mel king#trinity santos#cassie mckay#victoria javadi#dennis whitaker#ao3 fic recs#fanfic recs#ao3#the pitt fanfiction#the pitt fic
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I occasionally wish to reach out to old friends/acquaintances I haven't spoken to since high school/some other even earlier time in my life, but I have SOOO little social energy even for required tasks (like making dr phone calls or etc), I never have any leftover for extra ones, and it would be very odd to message someone I haven't spoken to in like 5 years out of the blue but then take 4 entire months to respond back lol.. My natural curiosity with nostalgia/collecting details of the past/etc. (literally if I were born a little earlier I would definitely do scrapbooking or something lol) is very strong, but, alas, not strong enough to beat out the Social Issues Demons apparently
#facebook always does that 'here's a post from this day 8 years ago' thing. and I see old comments interacting#with people and it's so like.. OOOOO~~ where are they now?? what's going on? how much have they changed as people?#how much are they the same? this is fascinating. i should contact them!!' but then it's like... take that to it's logical conclusion though#you would contact them and then IF they even responded it would take you 80 years to respond and then they would#think there was something wrong or that you were trying to be insulting or something. To contact anyone I need to include an 85 page#disclaimer of all of my social issues & mental illness things. 'If i take 3 weeks to reply I promise it has nothing to do with u' etc lol#THIS is why more people need to be into phone calls/voice calls/some form of audio real time communication/etc.#I think one of the main things that's hard about messaging through text for me is it's so unscheduled and open ended#(plus it takes forever if you're talking about anything in detail and gets very long very quickly)#because like you can send a message and then just get a reply whenever. and then you're expected to reply back whenever#so it's like you never know when the response will come or when a new obligation to reply can come up? so it's like this sudden thing with#no outline?? if that makes sense. whereas a phone call is very like 'hello let's schedule a call from 10am - 2pm on thursday'. And you know#EXACTLY when the interaction will start and EXACTLY when it will end and you can plan around it in your schedule easily.#I have the reverse thing of a lot of people (how people don't pick up phone calls/hate calls/only text)#I would literally talk on the phone with a stranger. I would have a discord voice chat with someone I barely know.#if someone I hardly even remember from elementary school asked to have a voice call with me out of nowhere I would do it.#but if a stranger MESSAGED me?? or someone I barely know sent me a TEXT or something?? I will never reply probably#It's just too vague and weird. and you can't read voice tone over text. and the interaction could last forever with no clear end#point and etc. etc. But a call is like. set. established. clear boundaries. you can read the flow of conversation better. rapport. etc. etc#I get that I guess people feel more anonymous or distanced over text?? but you can have fake phone numbers on the computer. or do like disc#rd calls. or zoom without a camera or etc. etc. Also the distance that's present in text is BAD distance because it just means that tone is#not conveyed properly and you will never truly get a sense of the person's conversational vibe or mannerisms or how well you really click.#ANYWAY ghgjh...... I'm so so so interested in concepts of like.. How did that one kid I used to talk to in elementary school#but then they moved away in 5th grade - how did they end up? what are they doing now?? etc. etc. Like despite the severe social anhedonia#and general lack of connection with others I'm just really fascinated in like.. idk. the human development of it all and like#the concept of how we're actually a million different people through the course of our lives ever evolving in different iterations and etc.#PLUS again. i love nostalgia. sometimes old peple you know might remember a shared memory or can tell you about something you forgot#or etc. like it's SUCH A COOL THING in CONCEPT but I am too socially inept generally speaking lol. which people I still talk to today are#familiar with my 'phone call once every few months' communication style. but strangers would just be like... wtf. And I don't blame them#Sure I literally cannot change the physical health + brain issues i have - but also I know enough to not put others through that lol
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I'm not an extrovert. At all. In everyday life, I'm a yapper, sure, but I need someone to first assure me I am okay to yap, so I don't start conversations, even when I really want to join in sometimes! It's just the social anxiety acting up. God knows where from and why I lose a lot of my inhibitions when it comes to talking to people about music. I don't know where the confidence has suddenly sprung from. I've made a crazy amount of friends in musical circles, either just talking to people about common music or (since it is after all in music circles) talking to bands about their own music. I let out a sigh of relief any time an interaction goes well, because in truth it's going against my every instinct. I wish I could do that in everyday life
#like that's the point where we need to remind everyone around me that as much as I say#radio is 'a job'-- it's not 'my job' lol. I wish I was this interested in data science#but like. Honestly?? I'm not even a data scientist!? I answered a few questions about classical AI having come from a computer science back#background and now people are saying to me 'I know you're a data scientist and not a programmer' sir I am a computer scientist#what are you on about#and like I guess I get to google things and they're paying me so I'm not complaining but like I am not a data scientist#my biggest data scientist moment was when I asked 'do things in data science ever make sense???' and a bunch of data scientists went#'no :) Welcome to the club' ???????#why did I do a whole ass computer science degree then. Does anyone at all even want that anymore. Has everything in the realm of#computer science just been Solved. What of all the problems I learned and researched about. Which were cool. Are they just dead#Ugh the worst thing the AI hype has done rn is it has genuinely required everyone to pretend they're a data scientist#even MORE than before. I hate this#anyway; I wish I didn't hate it and I was curious and talked to many people in the field#like it's tragicomedy when every person I meet in music is like 'you've got to pursue this man you're a great interviewer blah blah blah'#and like I appreciate that this is coming from people who themselves have/are taking a chance on life#but. I kinda feel like my career does not exist anymore realistically so unless 1) commercial radio gets less shitty FAST#2) media companies that are laying off 50% of their staff miraculously stop or 3) Tom Power is suddenly feeling generous and wants#a completely unknown idiot to step into the biggest fucking culture show in the country (that I am in no way qualified for)#yeah there's very very little else. There's nothing else lol#Our country does not hype. They don't really care for who you are. f you make a decent connection with them musically they will come to you#Canada does not make heroes out of its talent. They will not be putting money into any of that. Greenlight in your dreams.#this is something I've been told (and seen) multiple times. We'll see it next week-- there are Olympic medallists returning to uni next wee#no one cares: the phrase is 'America makes celebrities out of their sportspeople'; we do not. Replace sportspeople with any public professi#Canada does not care for press about their musicians. The only reason NME sold here was because Anglophilia not because of music journalism#anyway; personal
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not dipping back there again after this, but my opinion on where the discourse re: us politics is heading is not getting any nicer.
#thoughts#personal#not a vagueblog about any blog in particular#because it's been a deluge on my dash for a good two to three weeks from every side and almost every US blog I follow#I don't even disagree with the endgoal (I mean I extremely do but I understand the stakes)#but I deeply *deeply* disagree with the way it's all being framed#though I'm not surprised. and I wasn't expecting better.#but yeah in a couple of years we might all need to unpack what that strategy looked like from the outside.#because wow#the weaponization of âwhite guiltâ in particular to silence what is often (from what I see) PoCs trying to express their loss of faith#is. so very revealing to me.#the assumption of motive and identity here and how much more convenient it feels than the actual messy complicated truth#I think the usage of âwhite guiltâ and âwhite saviorismâ as a weapon thrown in between white people to control each other's behavior#especially in moments like these where PoCs are explicitely demanding our collective solidarity and voice#is actually a conversation we should all very seriously have at some point#anyway.#not mad at anyone for wanting to vote for biden#kinda mad at a good 75% of the posts prompting people to do so however.
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So crazy how I can go from having a great day to all of a sudden remembering an upsetting dream I had last night and it just. Instantly ruins my mood </3
#negative#wtf I was doing so good why now of all times :[#had an upsetting dream about stumbling upon a bunch of ship art of Zooble with other characters and in the dream my phone froze on it#and I couldn't turn it off or exit the app or anything#so like. instead of being upset then my brain decided to make me forget about it until just now for some reason#wow cool thanks brain đ (HEAVY sarcasm btw)#I've been like Super paranoid about coming across ship art today and didn't know why until now#gonna be completely honest with how stressed I've already been combined eith this right now#if I see them shipped eith anyone else I may start spiraling#dw though I've been trying my best to avoid scrolling through anything for too long#I'm not looking in any tags where I could come across it#I'm blocking anyone I come across in my recommendations who doesn't tag their ship art properly#I've basically been doing my own thing for the most part today#I'm tryinf to do Anything to dostract myself so I don't 5hink about it too long#I'm trying to work on another drawing#drawing is honestly the knly thing that helps me calm down when I'm feeling any kind of negatice emotions lol#so sorry to ramble like this#I've already had to bottle up so much the past week or so so i need to get at least one thing off my chest
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#vent#putting this here on main where less ppl involved will see bcs i just don't want that attention#(dots to hidr if ppl don't want to see this)#...........................................................................................................................................#.............................#..............#just stop. please im begging everyone to just stop. im begging everyone to just stop.#i get im not at all part if the people that ate effected by this im not at all but god please this is such a big game of#bad telephone and lack of one on one communication that didn't need to be made public#please i dont want to be unfollowing so many people please#are we going to enter an era of be careful whos posts you like or reblog bcs its part of 'the erong side'?#its selfish of me i know its so fucking selfish of me to be begging for this to stop but please#please the person has made an apology. the frustrations of everyone has been made and heard#im just begging everyone please just please don't make this something thats going to haunt this#fandom and community for weeks or months or forever#please goddamit please i enjoy so many people that have been just a part of this or been rebloging things about this and#i get it i get that this is upsetting that shit didn't go how anyone wanted but please i dont want go unfollow some of you#why is everything going to shit#why is everything falling apart#its so selfish of me to be this upset about this. its so messy on both sides everything about thos is so messy but god damnit why WHY#are we making this something so big#its selfish of me to say but please god please i come here to escape. i come here to have fun. im in these discords to have fun.#i have so much fun here and now everyone is just angry#i just wanted to reblog some cute art that came on my dash. i just wanted to eish someone well after seeing they needed space#i don't want to be so on edge about who i âshould and shouldn'tâ interact with#everything went to shit for me. yhen it got better. then back to shit. and finally it was getting better and now its all went to shit again#but this time its everyone everywhere and in escapable#the only awnser is to just log on. disappear for s while. but god i just vame bsck i JUST came back and god i just want yhis all to stop.
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Some of those doctors make hating oat milk their entire personality. I hate them. Cannot pretend to find them funny or like i give a shit. Fucking pretentious assholes
#also my colleague (the girl i had my shift with) is the exact opposite of me in all aspects. asked me if I'd ever worked in customer service#because i couldn't care less about being fake friendly to assholes and don't care if they like the service or not#like bitch those people don't have any other choice but drink our fucking coffee it's not like I'm competing with anyone#or like they pay us in any way. i get paid for doing the dumb work i have to do not for stroking some dumb ass doctors' egos#they come out of their rooms once an hour to get coffee and we have the cups on the table and i wouldn't even Think of#HANDING them the cups and smiling sweetly at them and asking 'coffee? tea?? :))'#I'll just assume these grown adults will get their stupid coffee or tea when they want some. it's not like they don't know where it is#(and i AM friendly and smile when someone is coming in our direction but why the fuck do you need to get so disgustingly friendly with them#if someone held up a cup asking if i.want some coffee I'd leave immediately even if i came just for coffee. it's creepy)#anyway. she's nice. I'm not.#there's normal people who will get their coffee and maybe ask if the milk in the little jug is cow milk to which I'll happily reply 'yes#:)'. then there's the other people who see the oat milk and make it clear they are the most insufferable people on the planet#(and i pity their patients so much. not much to choose from i guess but if i had that as a doctor I'd happily just die)#like everyone who took oatmilk could do it without making a fuss about the cow milk on the table. the cow milk lovers could never#'the oat milk is in front of the actual milk. this is unacceptable. i hate such healthy bullshit' lol okay#'OAT milk?? I'll leave this to the horses! THANK GOD you have actual milk!'#my favorite was the one who really took personal offense with its sheer presence. as if it had killed half of his patients lmao#'we had 50 patients with xyz problem. ALL of them drink oat milk. they cannot see the connection. it's really unhealthy'#at this point i just said i didn't care and stopped paying attention and he started complaining to his doctor colleague about how#oat milk is advertised to be healthy and how it's actually the opposite and i just find that very funny compared to the first comment#from that one guy who doesn't like such healthy bullshit. you guys need to find a consensus on the oatmilk issue i think. no one takes you#seriously if you contradict yourself like this. also i couldn't care less about the healthiness of the milk alternative of my choice. bitch.#next week I'll end up killing someone. i hope they all die from their cow milk. (but not the ones who took cow milk and didn't say anything#about the oat milk. they can continue living as they didn't annoy me)#void screams#some of these doctors were actually quite nice (most of them even). one even brought an applicant to us telling her to get some coffee#(which we are not allowed to give to applicants. but i don't care. I'd rather they get something than some of the asshole jury members#who hate oat milk (which is not the issue. the issue is them making it everybody else's issue that they don't like oat milk))
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like every day i get closer to understanding bachiko during the whole thirteen crowns thing. literally relatable queen



thats LITERALLY how i feel
#they made me feel like i had a shot and my friends and people in like everything was lined up#then because of the way the industry and contracts and projects work i get told they really want me but they can't#because. if a project doesn't go thru that means there's no need for me rn#so now im in the fucking position where if things go well they might need me in a few weeks but bc bureaucracy we don't know when#and i still have to look for work bc i need work but what if i land something and then they need me again. screams#âbachiko doesn't want to see anyoneâ GIRLL at this rate i kind of don't want to either!#ely talks#locking this post bc despite appearances it's not actually abt manga#tho i love bachiko with my whole heart and soul fr
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pt. 2
your roommate was a strange man.
can you even really call him a roommate if he's only home for one week every few months? but when he is home, simon riley is a pretty good roommate.
he fixes the heater that's been broken for two months, he replaces the faucet after it drenches you for turning it on too quick, he even takes a look at your car when you mention how your breaks have been squeaking. but other than his penchant for whiskey and the color black, you really don't know much about the man you've been living with for more than a year.
he's in the military, you know that for sure. he works with a team because he tells you that you have a striking resemblance to a man names "soap"? you take that as a compliment even if he didn't really mean it to be one. he wears combat boots even when he's off, you buy him a pair for his birthday that he doesn't take off until soles wear out. but all of these are merely observations, you don't actually know anything about him.
and it's not like you don't try to find out more things about him. you search his name on google- nothing. you ask him about his social media- 'don't got any'. you never ask about family because he never brings them up. all you have is a phone number and the license plate on his beat up dodge charger.
so, getting a call in the middle of the night, three months after you'd last seen simon, about a mission taking a bad turn and simon taking a bullet for an american private. all you really manage to catch after that was the hospital's address and a room number to ask for.
you feel like you're in a trance as you pack yourself an overnight bag, then move to simon's room and just start grabbing the softest clothes you can find and a bunch of snacks from his side of the pantry, then you're off.
you didn't want to see desperate or overly worried about a man whose favorite song you don't know but you're pushing into the high 90s on your way down. and your mind isn't clear until you're standing in front of a tired looking nurse in sanrio scrubs.
"um, i need to get into room 1206?" you barely choke the words out before she's getting up to lead you, "oh! mrs. riley, they told me you were on your way."
"oh-i'm, well" and if you hadn't watch so many hospital shows where they don't let anyone but family into the room you would have just told her the truth, but you just shut your mouth, give her a tight smile, and follow her down the hallway.
the room doesnât take long to get to, but the door is shut and you can hear the people inside talking. but the nurse doesn't even hesitate to swing the door wide open, "mr. riley, your wife is here."
and then there are four sets of eyes trained on you, but all you can look at is the hulking figure of your roommate sat up in his comically small hospital bed. and all you can muster up is a slight smile and a small wave in his direction before the bags you're holding fly straight onto the floor.
"oh, shoot- i'm sorry. i didn't know if you needed anything so i just grabbed some things from your dresser- and some of those granola bars you like, and there should be a gatorade somewhere in there. and, oh my god, i'm sorry, how are you? i came as soon as they called, and they said you got shot, and-"
"calm down, sweetheart, or yer gonna be the one that needs a hospital bed." ok, simon could still speak that was good, and he was conscious and remembered you.
"i'm sorry. i just got worried, and-" simon knew you well enough to know that you'll worry yourself to death if he lets you keep going, "nothin' to worry about, sweetheart, pull up a chair, you've 'ad stressful few hours."
you practically fell back into the chair that the man with the kindest brown eyes you've ever seen pushed towards you. and for the first time since you arrived, you took a deep, long breath. hand clasped in your lap as you take simon in.
"feeling any better, mrs. riley?"
"she's fine, garrick."Â
'garrick' seems utterly unphased by your roommate's- husband's? you can address that later- tone and just continues to smile at you.
"c'mon simon, we just wannae ken 'bout the bonnie lass yer hidin' from yer pals. ye 'aven't even introduced us." you're glad the scot waited until you'd calmed down to start speaking because it took you at least 30 seconds to realize he was even talking about you.
"sweetheart these are the boys, boys this is sweetheart, now fuck off before you scare 'er away"
they didnât seem like they were going to leave until the older man practically dragged them out saying something about the heaping loads of paperwork they had to do. so will a little wave and a cheeky smile, they were gone.
"so, um, ho-how are you feeling? they, uh, said that you got shot?"
" 'm fine, sweetheart, better knowing i've got a bird at home who'll come runnin' cause she thinks 'm hurt, yeah wife?"
yeah, maybe you'll let the mrs. riley thing go on for a little bit longer.
idk i just really like the idea of simon just picking someone random and being like 'yeah this is it, you're mine now' and they have literally no idea
#i really do want to be ghosts little oblivious wife#call of duty#cod#cod x reader#cod smut#cod x you#ghost x reader#simon riley#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost cod#ghost cod x reader#call of duty x reader#ghost call of duty#call of duty fluff#ghost fluff#ghost imagine#cod drabble
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wait, Derin how did your leaving make the hospital shut down?
I used to work as a live-in nanny for a pediatrician.
Now, the thing about hospitals in my country is that they are massively understaffed and massively underfunded. This is especially true outside the major cities. The staff are worked to the bone and receive little to no help in things like finding accommodation or childcare, making working in rural areas a very uninviting prospect; staff come out here, get lumped with the work of three people (because there's nobody else to do it), burn out under the workload and leave, meaning that those remaining have even more work because that person is gone. It's unsustainable and the medical staff are doing their best to sustain it, because people die if they don't, so to the higher-ups it looks like everything's getting done and therefore everything is fine.
My friend (and boss) worked one week on, one week off, swapping out with another pediatrician. This was necessary because it would not be physically possible for one person to handle the workload for longer periods of time. The one single pediatrician had to hold up the entire pediatrics ward, which was not only the only public hospital pediatrics ward in our town, but also the one that served all the towns around us for a few hours' drive in all directions. I regularly saw her go to work sick, aching, tired, or with a debilitating 'I can barely make words or see' level migraine, because if she took a day off, twenty children didn't get healthcare that day, and some of these kids' appointments were scheduled weeks in advance. She'd work long hours in the day and then be called in a couple of times overnight for an hour or two at a time (she was on-call at night too, because somebody had to be), and then go in the next day. Sometimes she would be forced to take a day off because she physically could not stay awake for longer than a few minutes at a time, meaning she couldn't drive to work.
Cue my niece's second birthday coming up in Melbourne. I'd been working for her for about 3 years, and she (and the hospital) had plenty of advance warning that I (and therefore she) needed one (1) Friday off. That's fine, we'll find someone to work that Friday, the hospital said. Right up until the last week where they're like "oh, we can't find a replacement; you can come in, can't you?"
No, she tells them; I don't have anyone to watch my kid that day.
Oh, surely you can hire a babysitter for this one day, they say. Think of the children! We really really need you to work that day. I know we said it'd be fine but we need you now, there's no one else to do it.
There are no other babysitters, she told them. Unless you can find one?
That's not our responsibility, they said.
But I'm not changing my plans, she's got plans by now as well, the hospital knew about this one day weeks in advance, and with absolutely no reserve staff they're forced to reschedule all pediatrics appointments for that Friday. Not a huge deal, it happens on the 'physically too overworked to get out of bed' days too. I go to Melbourne, she goes back to her home in Adelaide for her recovery week, all should be on track.
My niece gives me Covid.
This was way back in the first wave of the pandemic, and there were no Covid vaccines yet. The rules were isolate, mask up, hope. I had Covid in the house, and it would've been madness for my friend and her toddler to come back into the Covid house instead of staying in Adelaide. There was absolutely no way that a pediatrician could live with someone in quarantine due to Covid and go to work in the hospital with sick children every day. And no support existed for finding another babysitter, or temporary accommodation, so the hospital was down a pediatrician.
The other pediatrician wasn't available to do a three-week stint. They were also trapped in Adelaide on their well-earned week off.
Meaning that the only major pediatrics ward within a several-hour radius had no pediatricians. They had to shut down and send all urgent cases to Adelaide for the week. To the complete absence of surprise of any of the doctors or nurses; of course this would happen, this was bound to happen, it presumably keeps happening. But probably to the surprise of the higher-ups. After all, the hospital was doing fine, right? Of course all the staff were complaining of overwork and a lack of resources in every meeting, but they could always be fobbed off with the promise of more help sometime in the future; the work was mostly getting done, so the issue couldn't be too urgent.
It's not like some nanny who doesn't even work for the hospital could go out of town for a weekend for the first time in three years, and get the only public pediatrics ward in the area shut down for a week.
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⥠TW: break-up, angst, hung-up yandere, anger issues, insecurity, threats to regrets
⥠GN reader
Thinking about pro-athlete ex-boyfriendâŚÂ
You know, the one you broke up with because he couldn't focus on anything but his career, the one you just couldnât stand by and watch any longer as he nearly ran his health into the groundânot to mention your relationshipâall to reach his goals.
Heâd been so meanâmeaner than you ever thought possible when you told him you couldnât do this anymoreâsaid it was a real class act of you to abandon him now when it mattered most. Heâd made it about you not wanting a pipe-dreaming wannabe sportsman for a boyfriend, how you never believed in him anyway, how you never cheered for him, how he thinks you donât even want to see him succeed.Â
Heâd been so loud and so ugly youâd been in shock for weeks afterward, unable to wrap your head around it. You didnât even dare tell anyoneâfeeling it was a beast of burden you ought to keep for yourself. Oddly enough, you felt that if anyone knew or saw him like that, it would be not just detrimental to him and his image but embarrassing for you both.
And you hadn't spoken to him since. At least not face-to-face. Heâd sent you a few drunk texts then and there, which youâd replied to in short, though mostly ignored. Youâd thought about blocking him at one point, but you didnât want to be dramatic, either. And suppose, in some way, you were still waiting for an apology.
But months passed, and nothing like it ever came, and so, instead of being bitter, you accepted that was just how the two of you ended. And that was that.Â
Still, it's a little awkward. You wonder if you should congratulate him on his rise in popularity, how heâs finally getting all those long hours spent training back in fullâbut somehow, you feel it would just sound petty coming from you. And so, you donât bother.
Heâs got other people in his life cheering him on nowâhe doesnât need a measly text from his ex. No, it's better to leave it be, is what you think.
Which is why itâs surprising when you get the dinner invitation.Â
And following the initial surprise, you donât really know what to expect of it either. But you end up acceptingâsome part out of curiosity, wondering what he might want after all this time, and another part hopeful it was to finally address the awful break up so that the both of you could move on without it hanging heavy over your heads and hearts.
This, however, was the last thing you had in mind when sitting down with him for the first time in a long time.
âWill you marry me?â
Your whole body flares up with something reminiscent of the feeling when you trip and fallâthat type of split burn that rushes through you from head to toe and then leaves you feeling cold all over. Heart in your throat, youâre speechless.
Or no, you just donât know where to begin.
âWhat are you doing?â you end up accusingâa little too harshly, maybe, but who could blame you? Looking around, youâre glad your tableâs in a more private sector of the restaurant before you look back at him, eyes wide and brows knit.Â
âIâwe broke up a year ago and havenât seen each other sinceâand youâreââ Your eyes fall back to the thing in his hands. Itâs an outrageous ring. âAsking me to marry you?â
He makes no move to withdraw the offerâkeeping his hands where they are, on your side of the table. âYou said yes to the dinner. That must mean something. I thoughtââ
âYeah. It means that I still worry about you,â you say. âIt doesn't meanââ
âI fought my way up. Iâm finally at the top,â he cuts you off in earnest. âIâm the best, and the world finally knows it nowââ
âI don't care about any of that,â you state, feeling it should have been something you told him from the very beginning. âI'm sorry. But I never cared about you being the best. I just wantedâŚâ
You just wanted the two of you to be like other couplesâtogether and happy. You just wanted that to be enough, but it never was for him.
âNever mindâŚâ you end up saying. âI think I should go.â
Youâre about to get up when his hand, suddenly around your wrist, tightens in a harsh grip.
âI don't think you understand,â he utters, voice lowered with a hint of a growl. âItâs either this ring or I bury you in rumors that wonât leave you a momentâs worth of peace.âÂ
You go stiff while looking back at him.
Did he just⌠did he just threaten you?
You blink. He's got that same warped expression you remember from the last time you saw him, that very odd look as if the guy you know has been switched out with someone entirely different.
Only this time, it just as quickly disappears, and he lets go of your wrist, quickly pulling his hand to himself.
âIâm sorry, I didnât mean thatâIâm justââ he apologizes with a stutter, looking startled.
He puts his face in his hands. Then there's a soundâclose to a sob.
âIâm just a mess without you.â
Goosebumps rise on the surface of your skin when hearing it. And swallowing thickly, you sit back down again, albeit a bit begrudgingly. But spotting how he trembles, you just canât stop feeling sorry for him.
You sigh. âNo, youâre not. You justâŚâ Reaching across the table, you stroke his arm. âYou just lose your head a little sometimes, thatâs all.âÂ
He peaks up from his hands. A sheen under his eyes reflects the ceiling light, and your heart twists in your chest.
He really is a mess.
âBut I know youâŚâ you try smiling. âYou were always destined for greatness.â
He takes your offered hand in his, stroking it, then sniffs, voice fluttering weakly, âYeah, wellâŚâ
He keeps his head low, resting it in his other hand as if he just couldn't muster the strength to sit straight or even attempt to pull himself together.
âIf I'm so great, why wouldnât you stay?â
He sounds as if heâs been holding things back for the entirety of the year since you left. Broken now... it's all spilling out.
âBecause," you start, even though your throatâs tight and youâre fighting back tears of your own, your mind hasnât changed.
You didnât come here to get back together.Â
"You want to go places, I just canât follow.â
⥠BNHA â Bakugou, Dabi, Hawks, Enji ⥠JJK â Sukuna, Geto, Gojo, Naoya ⥠HQ â Kageyama, Oikawa, Sakusa, Miya twins ⥠CSM â Aki ⥠BLLK â Reo, Isagi, Rin, Sae, Yukimiya, Karasu, Shido ⥠AOT â Eren ⥠DS â Akaza, Sanemi ⥠WB â Sakura, Suo, Kaji
⥠FEM x M INSERT masterlist ⥠GN x M INSERT masterlist
#yandere x reader#soft yandere#yandere#yanderecore#yandere boy#yandere x you#yandere imagines#male yandere x reader#yancore#yandere insert#yandere original character#yandere oc#yandere male#male yandere#yandere my hero academia#yandere boku no hero academia#yandere mha#yandere bnha#yandere jujutsu kaisen#yandere jjk
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Finally checking the music scene in Nottingham out but I'm already too late đŞ
#and by that i mean the idles are playing 2 (two!!!!) nights in notts but both are sold out đđđđđđđ#everything everything are playing for ÂŁ30 and the damned are for ÂŁ50#ehich are both v tempting but i was hoping for more like ÂŁ20 tickets#genuinly a bit devved over the idles being sold out tho i bet they must put on a great show#i get to see creeper in Sheffield in a few weeks tho so i have that at least#need to find where the music scene in Leicester is as well but the only live music i ever saw in Leicester#was like an underground illicit local punk bands event which was really sick#but i don't really know anyone in the scene which is a shame#I'm determined to go to more shows n gigs this year tho
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On domesticating Simon Riley.
Simon knows people, knows how to read them and how to get what he wants out of them, in a general sense. He also knows women, their bodies and how to handle them. How to pick one out that wants the same thing he wants, how to approach them and then how to cut and run.
What he doesn't know is how to stay. How to let someone else know him, even see him. What makes a home.
So you're going to have to teach him.
He has the most minimal wardrobe you've ever seen -- a few pairs of jeans, a handful of t-shirts, a couple of hoodies and one pair of boots. After a few weeks of watching him lace up those boots every time he takes out the trash, you check them for his shoe size then order him a pair of crocs to wear around the house and when they arrive, you leave them by the door, where he keeps his boots.
"The fuck are these?" he grumbles that evening when he goes to grab the boots while you're cleaning up after dinner. They're too big to be yours, but he knows they're not his.
"I got them for you," you answer, coming to stand beside him. "Just something to wear when you need to step outside for a minute or if your little feet get cold and you wanna wear something around inside."
"I don't have ... fucking hell," he says, pointing down to the shoes. "They've got holes all in them."
"That's so you can accessorize!" you say proudly, pulling out a little bag full of charms that you picked out for him.
It's ridiculous. It looks absolutely absurd. But he wears them anyway, because he's learning that when people care about each other, they make little gestures like this, and if there's a way that he can wear your love for him around like a badge of honor, then no matter how goofy it looks, he'll be proud to do it.
Simon chews his fingernails down to the quick, a nervous habit that he's had for as long as he can remember. After catching him with a couple of bloody fingers after one particularly bad evening, you tenderly pull him into the kitchen, wash his hands and dry them, then sit him down at the kitchen table and leave for a moment, only to come back with nail polish.
"Really, love?" he asks, looking up at you with a smirk. "Gonna give me a manicure?"
You roll your eyes, pulling one of the chairs closer to him and reaching out for his hands, replying, "What, too manly to have your nails done?"
"Yeah, that's what it is," he smirks, all sarcasm, then says, "Why though?"
"It's the taste," you explain, shaking a bottle of black polish before taking the cap off and carefully leaning in to start on his right thumbnail. "The idea is that when you go to bite your nails, the polish will make it taste bitter so you stop."
He can't help but smile a little to himself as he watches you work. He doesn't care one way or the other about his nails, but it's cute, watching you so focused on him. Still, something about it nags at him, because while it feels good, having you care, it doesn't quite feel right, not all the way. Not just yet.
"Not hurting anyone with biting them," he says quietly, his eyes on his hands as you finish up.
You give a little sigh, capping the bottle before meeting his eyes, and you tell him, "You're hurting yourself. And that's not ok, not with me."
He doesn't do birthdays, not his anyway. Not in a dramatic "I hate my birthday" way, it's just not something of note to him. He knows the date, acknowledges it to himself when it comes just as a reminder that he's 40 now, not 39, nothing more. The first birthday he has with you comes after you've been together for several months, and you only hear about it after the fact.
"My sweet boyfriend," you coo at him one night in bed, a little tipsy from the wine you'd had with dinner. "My beautiful, beautiful boyfriend."
He chuckles, still marveling at how much you seem to marvel at him. Your hands are on him, gentle and doting, and he hears you giggle as you ramble on.
"Sweet and kind and handsome and strong," you say, running a hand through his hair. "He always watches out for me. He always takes care of me. My favorite person."
"You're drunk," he points out, smiling softly, cheeks red.
"Am not," you reply. "Even if I am, the truth is the truth."
You go on, praising him for everything you can think of. Pretty blonde hair, pretty smatterings of freckles, pretty dimples that only you ever get to see. It's almost unbearable, hearing how much you adore him, but in a good way. Like it's stretching something in him that's been closed for far too long.
You're breaking him in, slowly and carefully.
"Have you ever," you ask him at one point, "ever in your entire 39 years, thought that you'd get a girlfriend as thoughtful and loving as me?"
It's a playful question, but of course he's never thought that. His chest aches at the thought of just how much you've given him, and how much you let him give you in return. So instead, he dodges it.
"Not 39 anymore, sweetheart," he says softly.
Your brow furrows immediately, not understanding, and he laughs quietly, his hand on your stomach under the blankets sliding to your side to pull you closer.
"A few weeks ago," he explains.
"Your birthday was a few weeks ago?"
"It was."
"And you just ... didn't think to say anything?"
You're serious now, almost concerned, and he can't stand it.
"It's not a big deal, love," he says, leaning in to press kisses against your forehead and temple. "Just another day."
"It is a big deal," you argue, pulling back to look at him. "I would have ... I don't know, I would have gotten you something. Treated you special. Thrown a party, something."
"One, I don't like parties. Two, you treat me special everyday. Three, you've already given me more than you know, I don't need anything else."
All those things are true, but it still takes much longer than he'd like to get the frown off your face.
The next day, you ask him to run some errands for you. You need the oil changed in your car, some things from the big grocery store on the other side of town, but you need to stay home and take care of some things that need done around the house. He agrees easily. He likes taking care of you.
When he comes back later that afternoon, he goes for the kitchen, ready to put up the groceries he'd picked up, and there you are, leaning against the counter and smiling at him like you were waiting for him.
The homemade cake on the counter beside you, with candles sticking out and "Happy Birthday Simon" written in icing on top, tells him that you were.
Every time you do something like this, perform some little act of kindness that comes so naturally to you, it feels like something gets unlocked inside him. Like there have always been chains wrapped around his mind and his heart, keeping him tight and cold and alone, padlocks piling on top year after year, keeping all the hurt secure inside. But somehow you have the key, and you take your time, undoing them all.
Undoing him, completely and thoroughly, until he's open for the first time. And it's raw and new, and it hurts, but something in him knows that the pain will give way to something beautiful.
He watches as you step up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and leaning your head against his chest.
"Happy birthday, Simon," you say softly.
He can't say anything, not now, so he pulls you closer to him, strong arms cradling you against him, and you're close enough that he can feel when the corner of your mouth turns up into a smile
Another lock coming off. Another piece of proof that he can be something different, something better, with you.
#call of duty simon riley#simon ghost riley#simon riley x you#simon riley x reader#call of duty#call of duty ghost#cod ghost#cod simon riley#ghost cod#ghost x reader#ghost x you#soft!simon riley
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You know that thing bikers do when they see a police car? The tap on their helmets? Yeah so Arsenal, Red Hood, Red Robin and Spoiler (who I think are the only ones who ride motorbikes outside of their vigilante personalities) do it whenever they see Nightwing. And you better believe it makes others so fucking confused.
Nightwing: *Drops down into the fight.*
Red Hood: *Stops everything he's doing to tap the top of his helmet.*
Spoiler: *Sees it and then stops to do it too.*
Red Robin: *Gets a giddy little grin and starts tapping the top of his head.*
Thugs: *All collectively very confused.*
Thug #1: Wha... What're they doin'?
Thug #2: Uhh I dunno.
Thug #3: Hey, isn't that what bikers do when they see a cop?
Thug #2: Nah. Nightwing's not a cop, dumbass.
Thug #1: Yeah, he's a vigilante. Wha's he need with bein' a cop?
Thug #3: But he's the type to snitch tho.
Thug #1: Well... I guess. Maybe that's why they do it, cuz he's such a snitch.
Thug #2: *shrugs* Maybe.
Thugs #3: Uh, guys...
Thug #2: What?
Thug #3: Ya 'ere that?
Thug #1: *Pauses but doesn't hear anything.* Uh nah.
Thug #3: Exactly. Where'd the fightin' sounds go?
Thug #2: Shit.
The fighting had stopped because everyone else had been taken care of. The batfam had just been waiting for them to finish their conversation like Alfred taught them to. He would be proud. Probably of the broken and fractured bones that followed. Well, he'd be proud of their technique, they reckoned. (To be honest, Alfred would be proud no matter what.)
Arsenal: So he just... told you all to stop?
Red Hood: *Shrugs.* Pretty much.
Red Robin: I don't get why B wants us to stop using 'dick' as a term of endeerment. It's a compliment! Being like Dick is the highest honour.
Red Hood: And that has nothing to do with the fact the Baby Wonder finds it infuriating?
Red Robin, grinning: Cassie hating it is an upside, I won't lie.
Nightwing: *Drops down next to where they're all gathered on a roof.* Hey guys, sorry I'm late, I-
Red Hood:
Arsenal:
Spoiler:
Red Robin:
Robin:
Orphan:
Nightwing: Uh guys? *Starts sweating because there's something wrong with the way they're all blankly staring at him.* How- how's everyone?
Red Hood: *Starts tapping helmet.*
Nightwing: *So concerned that something's wrong he doesn't clock it right away so he just stares, a crease forming between his eyebrows.*
Red Robin: *Taps against his hair.*
Nightwing: Wait a sceond-
Arsenal, Spoiler: *Taps their heads.*
Robin and Orphan: *Looks at each other. Holds eye contact and then starts tapping their heads to fuck with Nightwing.*
The next day a photo of Nightwing standing with his head bowed in defeat whilst being surrounded by Red Hood, Arsenal, Red Robin, Robin, Spoiler and Orphan who are all patting their heads is trending. People think they're in some kind of cult and that they were either sacraficing Nightwing or they were summoning something. The fact that Nightwing isn't spotted for the next week makes everyone lean towards the sacraficing.
(Jason made him promise he would play into the bit by not going out and letting his friends and/or his siblings patrol his city. Dick has never been good at saying no to his little brother. And, come on, Dick fucking loved the idea of people thinking he was being sacraficed. Also, he doesn't mind the head patting. Batman was the only one who thought it might reveal his identity. Dick was with Stephanie on it all, really. There was no way people would connect him to Nightwing and if they did, it's not like anyone else would believe them.)
It gets to the point that it's not even to fuck with Batman anymore. It becomes a normal greeting, something that bleeds into their civillian lives. People understand it more when it's directed at Dick Grayson but it's very endeering to see it. It all fuels all the Bruceman shippers when Tim Drake-Wayne is caught doing it to Nightwing.
#tim drake#red robin#jason todd#red hood#batman#bruce wayne#stephanie brown#roy harper#arsenal#robin#damian wayne#cassandra cain#orphan#dc universe#dick grayson#nightwing#batfam
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