#i had to check to make sure but yeah there's no option to learn both languages together in school

[etherealily]

🄱🄻🄴🅂🅂🄴🄳​ // ​🇳​​🇦​​🇹​​🇪​ ​🇯​​🇦​​🇨​​🇴​​🇧​​🇸​.

Nate Jacobs + Fem!reader. Warnings : Dark. SFW, but discretion advised. 🍃.

Part 1 : Whiplash

Part 2 : 9 Lives

Part 4 : Shards

Part 5 : Eighteen

Part 6 : Sin

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

Tiny glimpse into his mind because why not?

Desc. : "His hand, so calloused from his pistol softly traces hearts on my face."

═════════════════════ ⋆ 🚬 ⋆ ══════════════════

It's not like Nate even knew you.

You just so happened to be the secret to his success, and maybe, perhaps his new obsession.

No biggie.

I mean, whole of the first week of spring break, he didn't text you, you didn't text him, and it was all great and normal.

Pissed him off to no end, because how the hell did you recover so quickly from having a fucking gun in your throat? But, hey, whatever. Maybe you were just that goddamn weird.

The second - and last - week of spring break was when shit got intense.

Because he thought about you.

He realized he hadn't even fucking seen you around town the entirety of it, and that might have freaked him out, just a little.

He worried, you see? Yes, only about his games, and his college apps, but now, all of them had been tied to you, with a pretty little bow around them.

So obviously, now he worried about you.

So, obviously, he needed to find out just where the hell your lucky ass had gone.

He narrowed it down to two options. Both perfectly reasonable, of course.

One, you just had tons of work and stayed indoors.

Two, you had been kidnapped and murdered by the opposing teams because they'd found out about your miracle-working.

See? Perfectly reasonable.

═════════════════════ ⋆ 🚬 ⋆ ══════════════════

It was a happy surprise to learn that you were basically closer to his house than you'd ever been before, after you'd taken up a job at the local supermarket.

Well, happy for him.

For you, it was more of a you-were-seriously-contemplating-suicide surprise.

"You listen to Elvis Presley?", he asked, dropping his purchase down on the counter. Your eyes never moved to it, and stayed on his.

That was one thing he noticed about you.

You were always observing, as if he were a rabid animal that would strike at any moment. As if he would reveal his sinister intentions to you within enough time for you to react.

"What?"

He nodded at the speakers on the wall around the establishment. "Those connected to your Spotify?"

You didn't want to answer unless you knew whether he was about to compliment or mock you.

"Sir, I think you should leave."

God fucking damn it. Why had he never thought about the fact that you wouldn't - (and couldn't)- call him a motherfucker at your workplace? His joy knew no bounds.

"That's so hot. Say it again."

You'd 100% expected that. It was clear on your face.

"There's other people behind you with more items to check out."

He swiveled his head around for a moment.

Old lady. Sometimes he wished he wasn't raised right.

He sighed, nodding. "I'm next up, though.", he warned sternly, pointing at you as he gestured for her to pass him by.

The old lady patted him on the shoulder and smiled, moving ahead with her purchase of an unholy amount of bread and cheese.

And what's worse?

She had coupons.

Way too many for Nate to stand smiling like a good boy behind her as she dug into her purse and fished out probably decades worth of them.

"Yes, dear, so just run all these."

"Uh, ma'am, I wish I could, but most of these are expired."

Thank god.

"Oh, well, you said most. Let's just sort through them and find the ones that aren't expired."

Would it be homicide to kill her? She didn't really have too long to live, anyway. He couldn't say he hadn't thought about it.

"Uh, okay, yeah, sure."

"This'll just take a minute, sweetie.", she whispered to Nate, pinching his cheek as if that would make time go by faster.

"How about I pay for you, ma'am? If that's alright?"

If he'd been allowed access to your mind, you'd never live it down, because you almost thanked him right then and there.

"Oh, there's no need for that, dear, I can-"

"No, please, I insist. It would be my pleasure."

"What a sweet boy."

Both her and Nate decided to ignore the derisive snort that came out of you as you swiped his card.

"Here you go, ma'am.", you smiled, placing the copious amounts of cheese into the bag, then stuffing the bread in, too. "Anything else?"

"Oh, no, that's it for me. God bless you, dear. Both of you."

Watching her walk out, he began to genuinely wonder if this absurd purchase was all part of some scheme some criminal had put up to steal without your knowledge.

"You hear that? We're blessed, you and me."

"Do you actually have anything to buy?"

"Of course I do. I'm not a creepy stalker.", he hissed, slamming his palm down in front of you. Slowly, he lifted it to reveal a stack of eleven condoms.

Oh, yeah, you were blessed with this fuckass' presence.

You sucked your teeth as your gaze traipsed from the condoms up to his eyes. One of them winked.

"Is that all?"

"Oh, come on, you're not even curious why I have them?"

"Probably for the dozens of bitches you're getting.", you scoffed, ringing it up. "$15.99."

"For eleven individual condoms?!"

You shrugged. "Inflation."

"Oh, they better inflate for the amount of money I'm spending."

He rolled his eyes, mumbling to himself as he pulled out the money from his wallet, instead of his card. "Fucking old lady with her bread and cheese."

"You maxed your card?"

"Yeah. Why do people buy so much shit they're barely ever going to use?"

"Like you with your condoms?"

Ah. Nate could've absolutely lost his shit laughing right there- you did care.

"I'm going to use it all. Trust me."

How many times was he going to use the phrase 'trust me' on you until he realized the meaning had eroded away into nothingness between you two? Probably a dozen more.

"Sure. Thanks for shopping with us. Have a great day."

He pouted, stuffing the packets into his pocket as he raised a brow. "You don't sound like you mean it."

"Nate-"

"And why are you even working here, anyway? Oh, shit, is it 'cause I cost you your internship with your perv boss?"

If he felt bad, the grin on his face wasn't really screaming guilt.

"No, fuckass, this is my friend's store, he just wanted someone to help him out for a couple hours."

"Whoa, wait, what happened to Sir? I liked that better."

That was a lie. He fucking loved it.

"Please, Nate. Stop."

"One condition."

There it was. It no longer seemed like he saw you as anything more than a boredom buster. Sudoku, or a crossword, basically. That was you to him.

"Answer one question, truthfully, and I'll leave this... otherwise empty store right after."

"I'm listening."

God, that's all he fucking wanted to hear, and it was oddly exciting. He could literally say anything, and you wouldn't block him out.

"What would you do if I told you that I have a body in my car right now?"

"What?"

"A body. A dead body. It's in my trunk. Right now. What would you say? What's your next move?"

It's like he expected you not to notice the fact that he was tracing shapes on your arm as he spoke.

"Cops."

At this point, even if he wasn't bluffing, you'd still have reacted so nonchalantly. Because it was all in all tiring to continue to play whatever twisted game he was playing.

"They're not an option. It's either silence or help me. Would you help me hide it?"

"Nate, did you kill someone?"

"No."

"Then why even ask?!"

"It's a hypothetical."

"No, probably not."

He tsked, looking away for a moment. "Wrong answer."

"Well, it's my answer."

He brought his fingers up to your face, and your slight flinch meant absolutely nothing to him. Imaginary hearts now plagued your skin. "Change it."

"My answer? No."

"Please."

"Nate, did you kill someone?", you asked once more, praying for an actual answer this time, be it in the negative or the positive.

He smirked.

"Thanks for the condoms.", he whispered, grinning as he gave your cheek a light pat - that was dangerously bordering on a slap.

Would your trunk be big enough to fit his body? You thought about it the rest of the day.

═════════════════════ ⋆ 🚬 ⋆ ══════════════════

His fingers rapped on his dashboard as he watched his phone, set down on speaker on the dashboard, too. Pick up, pick up, pick up.

"Hello?"

Yes. He'd never been this happy to hear someone's voice, and it kinda freaked him out. Okay, whatever. Not important.

"Y/N."

"Who is this?"

"The guy you broke all the rules with before spring break? Made out with on the bleachers?"

"You need to be more specific."

"You better be kidding."

"Of course I am." He had never felt more relieved to hear your stupid ass laugh. "What do you want? I'm not helping you hide a body."

He debated just asking you where you'd been all this time, why you hadn't shown up to a single party or hangout, but he decided he'd just outright ask the real question he needed answered.

"Which one's your window?"

A pause. "What?"

"The one with red or yellow curtains?"

"Nate."

"Red or yellow, babe?"

"Red." Good. You'd gotten so used to him that you didn't waste time pointing out the obvious by asking 'are you outside my house?!'.

"You sure it's not yellow?"

"That's my parents' room."

"Yellow looks more tempting.", he teased, as he shut the car door.

"I'm not messing around."

"Neither am I. Yellow it is."

"Nate!"

This was far too precious to him. You were actually worried. How cute.

The fact that he had to climb up wasn't really making him jump in joy, but he figured you'd enjoy that little touch of vintage chivalry.

Like fucking Rapunzel.

He tapped on your window once.

No answer. Don't fucking play around right now.

He knocked once more.

He was met with your extremely delightful glare as you slid your window up, watching him closely.

"Hey."

"Dude, you-"

"Shh, shh, shh. Let me in.", he mumbled, crouching to cram himself through, his hand still resting on the top of the pane.

"You're insane."

Immediately grabbing your face after he steadied himself, he hissed through gritted teeth, "Where the hell have you been?"

"What?"

"I didn't see you at all before today!"

"Yeah, we got a lot of work to do over spring break."

"This is why you don't take psychology, because you get stupid amounts of homework even during the holidays.", he muttered, as if he'd warned you about this eons ago.

"What do you want?"

"Party. You. Me. Now. Get dressed."

He almost punched you when you started laughing.

"You actually do have a sense of humour, Nate, good for you."

"I'm not kidding. Come on."

"No way in hell."

"You know what? No need to get dressed. You look great. Just come on. Live a little."

"You've already taken me to 'live a little' before, and I ended up shitfaced with a gun in my throat at school at 12:30 am."

Good. So you hadn't gotten over that. He didn't care if he was being sadistic - he was glad.

He sighed, flopping down onto your bed and ignoring the second glare to come from you that night. "This is so typically a teenage girl's bedroom."

He had no clue what he was saying, at this point. But he knew he was itching for a reaction, a reason for you to hit him again, so he could grab you and shut you up. He craved the conflict.

"Surprising, considering that's what I am."

"I mean, the band posters? Really?", he huffed, pointing around at your room as if he was giving you a tour of it.

"Have you even listened to Queen? Presley? Any of the oldies?"

The match was found. Time to light it.

"So the shitty music in the store was connected to your playlist.", he chuckled, shaking his head. "No wonder that old lady was so nice to you. She thought you were one of her Bingo buddies."

It was just a question of how long you could stand him sitting on your bed, disrespecting your music taste.

"If you're only here to invite me to a party, I'm sorry, I'm not coming."

"How would your family like me hanging out here?", he mused, tilting his head. You know, the one you'd probably love to bash into the pavement given a chance? That head.

You were so fucking hot when you were pissed, it was unbelievable to him. He could sense it, the anger.

The smell of your rage made him want to riot.

"You can't keep blackmailing me into doing what you want."

"Alright, fine."

Your uncomfortable frown made him snicker. "What's that look?"

"This is usually the part where you self-harm and tell me I'm being a bitch for not bending to your will."

"Tonight's different."

"Why?"

Because I'm going to unwrap every fucking secret of yours.

He shrugged, the corners of his lips curling downwards. "I don't want to."

"So, you'll leave?"

"I didn't say that.", he trailed off, watching you sit down on the chair across from your bed. "Let's just chill."

"Nate, when have you and I ever chilled?"

He licked his lips, narrowing his eyes at you, before giving you a sly smirk. His fingers emerged from his pocket as he pulled out a packet of pre-rolleds. "Right now."

"You're kidding."

"C'mon. Don't be a pussy."

"They'll smell it."

He lolled his head over to the door. "No, they won't. You're two floors up." He shifted to one side, patting the space next to him. "Come on, Y/N, don't end your badass streak so quickly."

His eyes followed you as you sat down gingerly, rubbing your forehead like he was causing you a genuine migraine. That's funny, she hasn't even seen me high, yet, (and she won't).

"Why do I let you do this?"

"Million dollar question if I ever heard one.", he scoffed, fumbling around his person for a lighter. He found it, placing the cigarette between his lips and lighting it, causing his next catastrophic words to come out a mumble. "But I'm glad you do."

He continued to watch your eyes change from frustration to mild fascination, to hesitation all in one second, as he puffed out through his teeth. "Fuck.", he groaned, handing it to you.

"I don't know about this."

"You think they'd like me?", he mused, looking at the door, and then back at you. "I'm known to make a good impression with parents."

"The no-blackmail thing didn't last long.", you huffed, taking it from him. Nate almost made out with you right then and there, the way your lips wrapped around it as if they were made only for him.

"Didn't want to break tradition.", he snorted as you coughed and sputtered, handing it back to him quickly.

"Gross."

═════════════════════ ⋆ 🚬 ⋆ ══════════════════

The last thing he'd expected from that evening was actually staying. He'd thought he'd get you stoned, you'd pass out, and he'd leave.

But here you were.

Next to him.

Freaking him the hell out.

He looked down at his watch. 2 AM. Fuck.

"I gotta go."

"You've been saying that for the past three hours."

Shut up. "Eh, well, it's not like my parents are worried."

"Why not?"

"They know I can handle myself."

"Right, because I'm such a threat."

"God, no. They'd love you." He shook his head subtly, grinning as you nudged his face playfully with your foot from across the bed. "You should come over, sometime."

"I'm not coming over, Nate."

The weed made sure you didn't push him away when he gently grabbed your leg. "Why not?"

"Because we're not friends. There's no reason for me to meet your parents."

"I just think it's right that you get to judge my room, too.", he muttered, lips on your ankle like it was his life support. "You know, justice or whatever."

"It's probably all monocoloured, plain, boring crap."

"Only one way to find out.", he teased.

He despised the silence that followed. High-you wasn't exactly chatty, it seemed.

"Tell me something about you."

"Like what?"

He shrugged. "Anything."

"This is my first time smoking weed."

"Not exactly a secret, sweetheart."

"You didn't ask for a secret."

"Now I am. Tell me a secret."

"I hate football."

You were more resilient than he thought, seeing as you'd smoked three cigarettes already, and the most you'd given him was your sports preferences.

But he'd take what he got.

"Because of me?"

"No, just generally."

"But you came to games.", he countered.

"Because of Maddy."

"You guys are close?"

You nodded, stirring slightly as you looked out your window. "Mhm."

"So she told you." Shit.

You tilted your head, sitting up as he gripped your calf, moving closer and placing kisses on your knee, too. "About?"

Well, if you didn't already know, no need to tell you.

"To come to the games."

"Oh. Yeah."

Nice save, Jacobs.

"I guess now I owe you a secret, huh?"

"I guess you do."

"You're not gonna like it.", he murmured, lazily tracing even more shapes on your knee, while his other hand had trailed up to your arm. "But I love your lips."

He smiled when the corners of your eyes crinkled up and you burst into a fit of giggles. "What?"

"It's true. They're perfect."

"God, I love weed."

You would, seeing as you smoked more of it than he did. Enough to kind of make him feel slightly guilty.

"It's not just the weed saying this.", he continued, shaking his head. "I'd fight wars for those lips. For you."

He shouldn't have liked the fading of your laugh so much, the slight trepidation brewing on your face, either, but for some reason, he did. "Nate, I'm not... I don't wanna-"

"Be fought for? Why not?"

He took the silence as a cue to brush his finger against your cupid's bow. "You don't think you deserve it?"

He watched your lips move under his finger as you shook your head, side to side. "Well, I do. And, guess what?"

"What?"

"I got another question for you."

Your frown was your response.

"Why didn't you push me away when I kissed you that night on the bleachers?" He knew the answer. Of course he did.

"I was drunk."

"Yeah, see, you weren't that drunk.", he taunted. But no, you were. He'd given you basically one and a half bottles. Just like tonight, taking barely ten puffs while you took thrice as much. You just hadn't noticed.

"I don't know, then."

"I just think that if you didn't push me away, it can't have been the terrible experience you made it out to be, in the car."

"What do you want to hear, Nate?"

"That you want to do it again. 'Cause you do. Don't you?"

"I don't."

"Yes, you do. If you could see your own eyes right now, you'd agree."

"Really?"

"Mhm."

He waited for a reaction, a scoff, an eye roll, anything, but you just looked back at him, and then down at the hand he was holding. Oh, it was the weed.

So he took matters into his own hands. No. He took you into his own hands, tracing the gap between your lips with his tongue before he pushed it in.

Your lips were war-worthy, just like before. But this time, something was different. This time, you kissed back.

There we go.

His hands ran over your back as though he were splaying a huge deck of cards across a table, and he came to the grave realization that maybe, just maybe, he was no longer doing this just for a reaction.

"Come here.", he murmured, making up for his lack of oxygen by trying to steal yours as he pulled you onto him. How Shane Crestin hadn't killed himself over the fact that he'd fumbled this bag, he'd never know. Loser.

His hands slipped under your shirt. Wrong move, seeing as you pulled away. "No."

Wasn't weed supposed to last longer?

"What?"

"I'm not... no."

"You seemed into it, like a moment ago. Face it : you want this. No amount of bullshit self-respect or whatever you wanna call it, is going to change that.", he responded, coolly, as he took a drag from the blunt, his lips immediately feeling the lack of yours.

"You're just trying to get back at Maddy."

God, he wished that were true. Would make much more sense.

He sighed, his forehead on yours. "I'm not, but you're not going to believe me.", he mumbled, watching you get off him and move back to the other side of the bed.

Oceans away. Too fucking far.

"I'm sorry." There was something he hadn't said in a while. "For, like, everything."

"Why am I so fucking important to you? If I just showed up to every game for you, would you leave me the fuck alone? No, you wouldn't, because you sought me out during spring break! Am I just an easy target?"

No. "I don't... I don't fucking know, okay? You just are."

"Is it 'cause you hate me?", you questioned, so quietly that he had to debate whether to get on his knees and beg for forgiveness or actually kill himself in guilt for eliciting it.

"What?"

"Do you hate me?"

"For what?" He had no fucking clue what this could be about. Every single thing he'd done so far indicated the opposite. But he didn't want to let himself go there.

"Being your good luck charm."

Oh. He had to think about that one. "No. It would be weird if it was someone else."

"I just mean... it must be frustrating, when you need someone, and they might not always be there."

"But you will, right? Be there?"

"You scare me, Nate."

He scoffed, slightly, rolling his eyes. "You're unbelievable. Why? Gimme one reason - a real one - why you're scared of me."

"You're violent."

Okay, he was hoping you'd give an invalid one.

"I like beating people up.", he shrugged. "But never for no reason."

"Not exactly a secret, sweetheart. And anyway, it's not only the beating up that you like."

"Hm?"

"You like getting beat up, too."

Remind him never to give you weed again.

"Why would I-"

"On some level, you feel like you deserve it.", you replied, shrugging as you took a long puff of the miracle weed that apparently made you unreasonably perceptive.

Okay, confirmed, not even the word weed would be mentioned around you anymore.

"You think I deserve it?"

"Mostly, yeah. But not... all the time."

"How do you know so much?", he asked, watching your fingers get lost in your hair. He couldn't afford eye contact.

"Psychology."

"See? You shouldn't have taken it. It's creepy."

You sighed, smiling as you looked up at the ceiling. "Sorry."

He did not expect you to back down, that was for sure.

"It's fine. Never giving you weed again, though."

═════════════════════ ⋆ 🚬 ⋆ ══════════════════

It actually took until the very last day of spring break for him to catch up with you again. Not like he was pissed that you pushed him away, or anything. Or that he was confused about the entire interaction in the bedroom of someone who, until three weeks ago, he wouldn't have been caught dead talking to. He was just busy. Sure. Let's go with that.

"Hey."

"Not now, Nate."

"What is your problem?" Wait, no. That kinda talk was why you were pissed at him. "Look, we should start over."

God, he sounded like a cunt. This was definitely something that pathetic Shane Crestin would say. Ew.

"Okay. Can you start by going over there?", you asked, restocking the shelves with whatever bullshit condiment you had to.

"I'm an ass. I'm a jerk, I'm- I'm a dick."

You were silent for a moment, before you added: "A small one, too."

He sighed, beaming with relief. "A small one, too.", he agreed, nodding. "I'm just here to ask you over to dinner. My house. I'll even cook."

Dude, if you didn't agree, he'd actually fucking kill you.

"No way you cook."

"Only one way to find out."

He saw the falling apart. The gradual breaking down. The glacier was melting. "I'll listen to Queen or whatever, with you."

The quiet was taunting him, but you came to his rescue. "No steak."

"No steak."

Yes. Fucking yes.

[pasdasin]

Wicked Game

wolverine x vampire!reader

an: omgg I am so happy yall like this! thank you for almost 100 notes!! If you want to be added to my tag list pls comment and ill do my best!! Remember Logan beefs with Alex Summers not Scott bc Scott is my son (dofp casting)

ch 2

warnings: mentions of blood, needles, generic doctor stuff, cussing i think, angst, poor reader :(

previous -- next

~~~~~

The next day you were sitting the in teachers break room, listening to Hank and Charles debate on what to do for the annual end of year movie night. Both options sounded boring, a basic slasher and some movie about a train. You turned to your right to look at your other close friend, Storm. 

“I heard Scott learned Dracula was about you” She hummed, bored of the debate as well. “I was wondering if you finally would tell your version of events?” You turned to look at her and pierced your lips. Thinking about the choice before you. It would be nice to get to talk about it, but at the same time you didn’t see it as fair to only do it since you brought it up to tease the boy. 

“I’m not su-” “She’ll do it” You turned harshly to the voice behind you and not surprisingly it was Logan. 

“Are you serious?” You pushed his arm away as his tried to lower it down on your shoulder. 

“What are you not proud to be a vampire?” 

“I am not a vampire” You grumbled looking back to Storm, who was also starting to get over this conversation. “Yeah sure whatever” She smiled and squeezed your arm as a thank you before leaving the two of you alone. 

Logan looked down at you and smiled. “I ate some broccoli today.”

“Wow. I’m impressed it wasn’t also soaked in scotch”

“Well I didn’t say that” You giggled at his response. You decided to get more comfortable under his arm, sinking into his side. Turning your attention back to Charles and Hank who finally agreed to a movie. The Breakfast Club. As they reached the decision, Alex Summers entered the room. 

Alex Summers was everything he was supposed to be. Kind, tall, handsome. The school girl crush of almost every girl that attended the school. He was calm, he was smart, he was caring, and he hated it. 

“Oh hey y/n.” He always wanted to be with you. You felt Logan tense up against you, his face contorting into an annoyed expression.

“Watch it bub” Logan said, staring at him intensely. You instinctively scratched his back to help him relax.

“Hi Alex! You need to stop by my office later for your check up.” You reminded him cheerfully. Alex thanked you for the reminder, promising to see you before Logan pulled you up with him and out of the lounge. In fact he managed to somehow pull you along out of that section of the mansion before he finally let go of you. 

“Dude what is your problem”

“I don’t like him”

“Yeah no shit.” You remarked, causing him to look down at you and raise an eyebrow. 

“I also don’t like when your sassy.” He poked your forehead with his finger, causing your face to scrunch up. “Besides your giving a presentation about your life, you need to make good on that promise” 

“I didn’t know you cared so much”

“I don’t” Oh. There it was. The fatal rejection that you have experienced from him over and over again. You looked down at the floor, muttering something about finding Storm and hurriedly walked away. He had hurt you for centuries. Your mind, body, and soul yearned for him and yet his own chased another. He had to know at this point. He just wanted to tease you until you couldn’t take it. Unfortunately for you, you had always shown him tolerance. 

Your walk was cut short as you bumped into Storm, who informed you that you were gonna “spill the beans” the next day, leaving you to walk back to your office and get ready for Alex to get his check up. 

As you prepped the trays you needed for his appointment, the all too familiar voice of Alex filled the room.

“Hello doctor,” He said in a flirty tone, cheering you up slightly. 

“Hi Alex, sit down here” You patted the bench and started the procedure. It was just a normal check up. He talked to you about his brother and his upcoming mission. Saying how he will miss his hot doctor when he left for Europe. 

It made you chuckle as you placed the stethoscope on his inner elbow, focusing once again on the sound and patterns of his blood. He watched you intently as you nodded your head along as if some kind of melody was playing and he was producing it. Your eyes were closed and your eyebrows furrowed together before you relaxed and smiled up at him.

“You're all good. Beautiful blood” He thank you before placing a blow pop he kept in his pocket in his mouth and walked out of your office. As the door shut, you started to clean and pack away your personal belongings. Putting the last needle into the biohazard box, you moved to turn off the lights when Charles wheeled into your office.

“Hello y/n. I need to ask you a favor”

~~~~~

tag list: @captain039

[pixiesfz]

I’m sorry this took so long to put up I just had the WORST writers block

a walk down memory lane j.r x reader

plot: you take Olivia’s dog on a walk and run into Jill

warning: mentions of sa, bruises, anxiety, this series is based of the book it ends with us

“So can you just look after him for a couple of days?” Olivia asked you from the doorway as you patted her dog Stanley.

“Absolutely, my life’s been a bit boring so he should shake things up” you smiled, standing up to grab the dog food from Olivia’s hands.

“Speaking of your life” Olivia trailed off and you looked down to your feet “I can sense something is up with you and Ellie”

You froze.

How do you answer her? You couldn’t just straight out tell her that your girlfriend had hit you, Ellie loves you and you knew it and she hadn’t hit you again, at least not purposely.

But you could feel yourself pulling away.

She may have loved you but you didn’t love her, not anymore.

“I uhm- yeah” you stated shortly and your friend quirked her eyebrow “what’s happened?” She asked and you sighed, lifting your hand to brush your hair back, not seeing Olivia’s eyes stare at your bruised wrists from when Ellie accidently gripped your wrist to tight on a walk.

“We just had an argument that’s all” you shrugged and she nodded, not convinced.

“Well if anything happens call me, I’m here for you” she said and you nodded “thanks”.

"Please do" she said softly, urgency written on her face as you tried to look away from her.

Letting Stanley off of his leash at the local park you finally took a deep breath.

You knew you had to get out of your relationship, you knew it would be the best option for you but you were scared.

really scared.

You stared at your wrist, covering it up with your jacket before Stanley came running up to you with a soccer ball in his mouth, thankfully not having popped it.

“Stanley that’s not ours” you laughed at the sight

He dropped it at your feet and sat down, wagging his tail.

“I didn’t know you had a dog”

You looked up from Stanley to see Jill who was smiling ear to ear.

“Oh uhm I don’t, I’m just looking after a friends” you told her and she nodded “but he needs to learn not to steal” you joked and grabbed the soccer ball and looked at Jill

“This yours?”

She nodded “yeah but he looks like he wants it more than me right now” she laughed and you laughed with her.

A silence fell over as you both watched the cute dog roll the ball around.

"How are you?" Jill asked and you shrugged

terrible, unsafe, sick of life

"I'm good"

"Anything else?" she asked and you let out a small laugh "sorry I didn't mean to be blunt I just have a lot on my mind I guess" you told her and she nodded her head "Is it because of looking after a living animal, I remember you couldn't even keep a plant alive" she laughed and you thought back to the multiple plants you tried to have as a teenager.

"Not a good plant mum but I think a dog mum may be different, they at least speak when they aren't fed" you smirked before Stanley barked from his spot, now revealing a popped soccerball

"I can get you a new one-" "Don't bother I have plenty, it is my job after all"

You smiled "Isn't it cool? We both got into our dream jobs" you smiled and Jill turned to you "Did you get into writing?" she smiled and you nodded "As soon as I moved I got into it, can be slow at times but I don't regret it"

Jill smiled, proud of you and your achievements "Last time I checked you were still at Wolfsburg" you said, explaining your shock at the game "you keeping tabs on me?" Jill teased.

You gave her a look "Oh c'mon of course I would, I just happened to miss your transfer to City" you told her and her smile grew. "I tried to check on with you" she admitted "I couldn't get access to your phone, your parents basically cut me off every time I rang the home number but I asked around"

"spying on me?"

"Well I cared" she told you and you both shared a look.

"I just wanted to make sure your safe, it is the one thing you deserve most"

you weren't safe.

You didn't respond with words but looked down nodding your head "thanks Jill".

"Any popular songs I may of heard that are actually written by you?"

You smiled "Do you know Adele's song 'All I Ask'"

Jill gasped "Yes"

"Yeah I didn't write that one"

You tried not to laugh at Jill's lack of excitement as you joked "Well it's good to know you still haven't lost your humor"

You felt your phone buzz against your jeans as you shared an apologetic look with Jill "I have to-" "take it, I'll play with the dog who's name is?" she pondered off as you accepted the call "It's Stanley!" You yelled out to her.

"Who are you talking to?"

A chill ran up your spine.

Why didn't you check the caller ID.

"Just someone who wanted to pat Stanley" you said, technically telling the truth "You've been out a long time" Ellie's voice grew accusingly.

"I took him to the park" you said as if it wasn't a big deal.

Unbeknownst to you Jill watched your phone call, she assumed it was your partner when you accepted the call but something didn't feel right to her about Ellie.

But she wasn't sure if it was because Ellie was living the life she always wanted, a public relationship with you.

Your breath hitched on the phone when Ellie didn't answer straight away, only a strained hmm on her behalf "Is that why your standing there talking to your ex-girlfriend" You widened your eyes and started to frantically look around which caused Jill to stand up with caution.

"we're going home y/n" Ellie commanded you, her tone angry as you grew scared

"y/n are you okay?" Jill softly asked you

You nodded your head before picking up Stanley's leash "okay El" you said, your voice quiet, damaged.

You dropped your phone from your ear "It was nice talking to you Jill but unfortunately I have to go" Your heart was racing as you clipped the dogs lead onto his collar, your breath shortening as Jill watched in confusion before you walked away quickly into a sleek black car.

Ellies hand clung onto your thigh as soon as you sat down and tears pricked your eyes "It was just a conversation-" "Shut up" she told you and you took a big breath in.

You couldn't do it anymore.

As Ellie's grip on you tightened your left hand reached behind your back to find your phone and pulled it out to the outer side of your outside leg to hide it.

You texted on Olivia's contact before typing.

'help me'

Though she would get the message and come home it wouldn't save you from the punishment you would get when Ellie pushes you threw the front doors.

[spacecowboyy0]

chronicles of lamby

summary: little!reader is at a safe house with t141, brings their lamb stuffie but always loses it

notes: lamb stuffie again because it's so cute!, l!r calls simon papa and john da

~1k words

enter lamby:

You beg Price to let you go into the toy store next to the grocery shop. It’s a funny sight for the cashier when you, accompanied by Simon and Soap, enter the store that is primarily filled with baby toys. Price and Gaz decided to go to the car, but Gaz made Soap promise to get a picture of Ghost in the store with you.

You look around for the stuffie and Simon spots them in a back corner and guides you there. You hold his hand as you look around at the most adorable plushies you’ve ever seen. You have to hold back from squealing but you squeeze Simon's hand and bounce on your feet. Johnny stands on the other side of you, helping you find the cutest one. 

“Alright dove, what’s it going to be?” Eventually you narrow it down to a blank and a blank. You make Simon hold them both so you can visualize it better. Johnny makes sure to secretly take a photo of the scene. It’s comical and adorable seeing you stare intently between the two options that look so small in Simon’s hands. 

You walk out of the store with a big smile on your face and a soft lamb in your hands. Simon grabs your hand before you can run to the car, but you try your best to speed walk there. You pile into the backseat, squished between Kyle and Simon, and then make sure that John and Kyle have felt how soft your new lamb is before you head back. During the drive, you wiggle happily with your new friend in your lap. 

lamby out of sight:

The team was staying in a safe house long enough that you could bring your lamb with you. Normally you don’t bring her on missions because you don't want to risk her getting damaged or lost. This mission is a little different, and so there was more leniency with what you could bring. 

The team quickly learns that you have a habit of leaving her around the house.

1.

Kyle walks into the bathroom and finds your pacifier in the sink. Soap had given you a little chain with a clip that could be attached to the pacifier and then onto your shirt, so you had gotten better at not losing it. Sometimes you still forget. He rinsed the pacifier and then dried it on his (clean) shirt. As he reaches to put it on the windowsill, he finds your lamb there. He laughs and places your pacifier beside your stuffie. 

When he leaves the bathroom, he collects your comfort items and walks down the stairs. He heads to the dining room table and finds you looking over some papers. 

“Baby, your pacifier and lamb were in the bathroom.”

“Ohhhh.” You mutter to yourself. “I guess I forgot them while I was brushing my teeth.”

“I thought Johnny got you that clip for a reason.” You look up at him and shrug. 

“Yeah but I got distracted I guess, I noticed the window wasn’t closing properly so I tried to fix it, and then I remember I had to look at this stuff,” You gesture to the scattered papers in front of you. "So now I have to be big and do this.”

2.

You tried to be helpful this morning, even though you feel smaller. John watches from the living room as you walk into the kitchen, set down your lamb and put away clean dishes and make Simon tea. You go to the stairs, planning to head to Simon’s bed so you can cuddle with him. 

“Love,” John stops you. You perk up and look in the direction of his voice. 

“Hm?”

“Your lamb.” He points to where it is on the counter and you turn your head to follow gaze.

“Oops, sorry lamby! Thanks Da.” You walk over to her and tuck her into your arms, careful to keep the mug steady and head back to the stairs. John hears the stairs creak under your steps, and smiles to himself. 

3.

You have once again forgotten your lamb somewhere, and you need her to watch your cartoons with Johnny. You’re all wrapped up in a blanket so you ask him to find her for you. He checks the main floor before going upstairs and looking in the bedrooms. He avoids Simon’s until he doesn't find your plush anywhere else. Simon’s room is right beside yours, but his door is closed so Johnny knocks on it. “Simon?” He waits for a response but doesn’t get one. He says a quick prayer before turning the door knob slowly and pushing the door open silently. On the bed, Johnny can see your plush on Simon’s pillow. Opening Simon’s closed door was one thing, but going into his room is another. 

He slowly steps one foot into the room and the floorboards creak, making him jump. He turners around to make sure no one is around and finds Simon watching him from the hallway. He has his mask on, presumably coming from an errand run, and his arms are crossed. 

“I- uh” Johnny stammers. He looks between Simon and the stuffie. He hears your footsteps as you skip up the stairs. 

“Johnnyyyyy,” You whine. “What’s taking so long? Oh hey Papa.” You see both of them at the entrance of Simon’s room. 

“Is she in there?” You walk past Simon and peer into the room, spotting her on his pillow. You push past Johnny and flop onto Simon’s bed. You giggle when you bounce and then crawl to retrieve your lost lamb. You hop off the bed and go back downstairs, not noticing Soap’s stunned expression or the crinkles around Simon’s eyes (he’s definitely smirking under his mask). 

“Johnny come on! You couldn’t find my lamb and now you’re going to miss cartoons! I thought you're supposed to be smart!” 

4.

You and Simon had to leave early in the morning to collect some information, so you couldn’t say goodbye to John or the others. When John opens his door to go on his morning run, he's met with his favourite hat on the ground with your lamb sitting in it. There’s a folded note tucked in the hat.

The sight gets a smile out of him and he reaches to grab the small piece of paper.

have a good run <3 lamby will keep you company so you don’t miss me too much today!

-your dove

The note stays on the fridge until the team ends their time at the safe house, with a bunny magnet that you also made. John reads it everyday when he’s in the kitchen, and the others tease him whenever they catch his eyes in that direction. (Soap’s just jealous he doesn’t have a note of his own)

[orphicswanart]

Madatobi week day 2 - Hanahaki disease

story under the cut ^^ ( btw English is not my first language)

Labored coughing was heard throughout the halls of the Senju main house, agonizingly dry and heavy. Choking on the flowers that symbolized romance and passion now just reminds him of what he could never have. Something that will bring him to his grave sooner than anyone wanted.

Thorns made him vomit more blood than any other, making his voice hoarse and pitiful, as pitiful as he felt. Lying on the cushions, of the bed that Hashirama insisted he'd lay on, books scattered on the floor, some pages have drops of blood on them, and a now cold tea at his bedside table in an easy reach so he doesn't have to strain his body further than his brother wanted.

Tobirama couldn't stand it, he didn't cry often but looking at his brother's face made him tear up...it made him feel hollow, how grim everyone had been around him, however, he couldn't do a thing. He didn't want to lose his feelings and his memories of the ones he loved.

He remembered his father how unfeeling he was, how he never felt an inkling of love for anyone. Later he learned that his father sacrificed his happiness, his memories, and his emotions for the good of the clan. He loved another who didn't love him back ...Tobirama wondered if their father hadn't had the surgery would he be gentler, would he laugh with them, would he love their mother the way she deserved, would they be happy. The questions were interrupted by another suffocating cough that made him tear up. A red rose forced its way out.

Oh, how he wished this could stop, he could have gotten the surgery, and now it's too late, he was in pain and it did him little good to think about what he could do, if only he had taken one of the options, his only one was to confess but he also couldn't confess either as his love was vile, he fell for a man, something that was looked down upon. He was sure he would die on the spot as the man he loved hated him. How could somebody love a thing like him. How...

"Tobirama..." A deep rich voice caught his attention. Oh the man he loved, the man for whom the roses bloomed in his chest was looking at him with pity. "I came to check on you per your brother's request..."

Madara sat down and gently wiped some blood away from his mouth. "I wish I could help you cure this flower sickness..." he rasped. He lightly coughed and placed his bare hand to his mouth pushing a few sky-blue flowers into his palm, forget-me-nots. "I wish to..." He paused before deciding to stick the pretty flowers behind Tobirama's ear"... I want you to know that I caught feeling for you, even if it doesn't help you...I...Tobirama?"

Tears went down the pale cheeks as a smile curled on the albino's face. "I..." He lifts a rose to Madara's ear "I love you too..."

Madara's eyes widen in shock for a moment before they soften as a brilliant smile spreads on his lips. Before Tobirama can say or do anything Madara leans in for a kiss, and Tobirama gladly accepts.

.˚₊‧˗ˏˋ ─── ★ ─── ★ ─── ★ ─── ★ ─── ★ ─── ★ ─── ★ ─── ˎˊ˗‧₊˚.

They both had hanahaki for each other isn't that rather tragic and romantic, eeee!!!

I decided on the flowers because they fit them both so well, in some fanfics the flowers somebody coughs symbolize the person they love and tho me these two are perfect:

Roses; romance and passion

Forget-me-nots; remembering the ones that passed, true love and devotion

but yeah hope you enjoy bc I am enjoying this so so much!!!!

[fletchingbrilliant]

🌙some wildly cheap commissions!🌙

🙃 for some even wilder reasons 🙃

hey y'all. long post thingie but it's got cute pictures so please check it out

TRANSCRIPT OF POST

hey frens got something kinda somber to talk about. most of you are very aware of the existence of my beautiful fiance and co-creator of basically everything i do. zae and i are getting handfasted (marriage for pagans) in october, and have been living together for about 10 years. in 2021, zae got really fucking sick, and after a few false starts, was diagnosed with a rare for of vasculitis called granulomatosis with polyangiitis, GPA for short. it’s an autoimmune disease that causes inflammation in blood vessels and other tissues, ultimately stopping blood from getting to the parts of the body that need it, affecting many areas, but primarily the respiratory system. while the cause isn’t known, it usually presents in people in their 50’s or 60’s, but complications from a third bout of covid-19 appears to have made it emerge way earlier for our boy. at least, that’s what we think. his case is extremely aggressive, advancing faster than anyone could have expected. in zae’s case, it actually attacked his kidneys first, and then went after his lungs, causing both to threaten shutting down for good. he was extremely anemic and needed a ton of transfusions, narrowly avoiding dialysis, and we spent weeks in the hospital keeping him alive. he was placed on two different kinds of chemotherapy to combat the disorder. he lost his hair, went through even more fatigue and pain on top of what the disease had already put him through, and had to accept a plethora of changes to his life that will last forever. a lot of you out there have harrowing experiences of your own when it comes to chronic and potentially terminal conditions, too, I’m certain. “it’s not fun” is an understatement. though there were a couple of really fucking close calls, zae’s GPA went into remission. his hair grew back fuller and more luscious than it had ever been before. (i later learned these are affectionately referred to as “chemo curls.”) remission for gpa is usually expected to last at least 5 years, potentially up to 20, before any symptoms resurface. but zae’s case was particularly aggressive, so of course he’s not so lucky. he’s relapsing now. his symptoms have been slowly returning, and it’s been decided that he’s going back on chemo. it’s no surprise that this shit is expensive, even with insurance. we’re still paying off the care he received last time because ‘murca. being disabled myself, work has been… let’s call it inconsistent, yeah? yeah, that’s a nice and comfortable thing to call it. no one’s doing well financially these days, so we of course have to get creative. long story short(er), i’m doing a commission special! for the next MONTH, i am offering fast commissions at crazy-low prices to try and help us create a cushion to keep us afloat and relatively comfortable while we begin the chemo process again. there’s several options for a variety of budgets, because i really hate the idea of seeking something for nothing, and i absolutely abhor having to reach out in this way. it makes me feel vulnerable and icky and… i’m sure you all understand that, too. i can’t thank you all enough just for following me, and engaging with mine and zae’s work. it may sound trite, but that really makes a difference to us, especially when we’re dealing with something so painful. so if you can’t or don’t want to partake of the sale, please know that you are still a huge help to us, and we seriously appreciate each and every one of you. like, so fucking much. thanks y’all love, fletch

END TRANSCRIPT

Commission Options:

Flash Sketches: $5USD/character

Comics: $5USD/panel - flat color

Comics: $10USD/panel - shaded color

Screenshot Redraws - $15USD/character (complex bgs, add $20)

all of this is posted with @zaebeecee's knowledge and blessing

please DM me if you're interested in something, and thank you again

more Hungry Games, fic fanart, and Persona stuff coming soon too

[grailfinders]

Grailfinders Viewers' Choice #30 B: Sodom's Beast/Draco

great news everyone! life stopped kicking my ass quite as hard, so we’re back and better than ever! or at least, more employed than ever. still, that means Grailfinders is back on the menu, and to celebrate we’re solving that little tie we left off with by making both of them!

next on the chopping block is Sodom’s Beast a.k.a. Draco, the nero that never was, and never could be. I really don’t get why people thought making Maxwell’s Demon would be hard, I swear like half the roster explicitly can’t exist in a standard fate timeline, what makes him special?

anyways, gripes aside, she’s a Rune Knight Fighter to sneak in a rapid shift in perspective during her ascensions, as well as a Shadow Sorcerer to make dragons pop out of every which where while also making her wildly hard to whittle down.

check out her build breakdown below the cut, or her character sheet over here!

Species and Background

I really wanted to make draco a tiefling for the horns, but we have to account for both forms of draco so that severely limits our options with going full 2024, and you never go full 2024. so with that, we’re going with Custom Lineage. this way, you get +2 Charisma to continue to exist no matter what the universe says, as well as Darkvision to clown on those pathetic humans, and the Crusher feat for +1 Strength as well as the ability to push any creature you hit with bludgeoning damage with no saves needed, and if you deal critical bludgeoning damage, everyone can pile on and get advantage on their attacks against the poor son-of-a-gun until your next turn.

Draco doesn’t do melee too often in her animations, but when she does she’s either using a giant flaming magichand or she’s a 7’ tall dommy mommy, so either way throwing her weight around is justified.

and of course, we’re using the variant Noble background for History and Intimidation proficiency.

Ability Scores

in order for draco to exist at all, her Charisma has to be pretty high, so let’s start there. after that, grab some Strength- you might not use melee often in FGO, but D&D’s another beast altogether. also we need it for multiclassing. after that is Constitution. you don’t die easy, that’s kind of why you’re here.

I mean that’s why everyone’s here, but you know what I mean.

your Dexterity is barely positive if you’re using the standard array, you’re either blasting people with magic or you’re wearing armor, either way we don’t care about getting hit too much. this means your Intelligence is a bit low- just because you probably had access to greater learning doesn’t mean you had to use it- and we’re dumping Wisdom. Nero’s wisdom was never high, and you are a walking impossibility, which can’t be good for your common sense.

Class Levels

1. Fighter 1: as I said earlier we need that sweet, sweet platemail, which means we need to start here. as a fighter you get proficiency in Strength and Constitution saves, as well as Animal Handling and Athletics. you might be a terrifying hellbeast now, but you’re still nero. I’m sure you’re even better at “handling” lions now.

first level fighters also get a Fighting Style, and while your sword is great you use it one-handed, so you get the Dueling style for +2 damage to all attacks made with a single one-handed weapon. also your Second Wind lets you heal yourself as a bonus action.

2. Fighter 2: second level fighters get an Action Surge once per short rest, letting you take two actions in one turn with no restrictions. yes, this is one of the few options in the game to cast two leveled spells in one turn, don’t let it go to your head.

3. Fighter 3: at third level you can finally become a Rune Knight, giving us one of the two options available for your golden grail ability. yeah, it turns out there’s very few ways to pretend to help your enemies while actually sabotaging them, that’s probably a little cerebral for WotC. I am of course, talking about Rune Carving. every long rest you can carve a rune into a weapon, armor, shield, jewelry, or other hand-held object. while holding or wearing those objects, you and only you can get a cool bonus, but you can also invoke the rune once per short rest for an extra special bonus regardless of where the rune is. so this is all a roundabout way of saying you can add say, a Fire rune to someone’s armor, feed them a story about how it doubles your proficiency with tools while holding it, and then when you fight them you can invoke it to stick them in chains, which is the closest we could come to stunning them like the actual skill.

yes, it’s all very tortured, but at least you can also use the Cloud rune to get advantage on all sleight of hand and deception checks, and redirect peoples’ attacks so they hit their allies, corrupting them for all of five seconds with grail mud.

the bigger (literally) reason we’re here is for Giant’s Might, which lets you grow to large as a bonus action. the rules might say you take up a 10’x10’x10’ cube now, but that’s just what being 6’1” is like. you need a lot of legroom. you also get advantage on strength checks and saves, and you deal an extra d6 once per turn when you hit with a weapon attack. you can reach third ascension proficiency times a day.

4. Fighter 4: fourth level fighters get their very first Ability Score Improvement, and we’re getting a twofer today thanks to rounding up your Strength and Charisma. more hitting, more spells, what’s not to love?

5. Fighter 5: for our final fighter level, you can fling a flurry of fisticuffs at your foes thanks to Extra Attack. it’s an extra attack, just like the title says. you may notice doubling down is a theme of this build.

6. Sorcerer 1: bouncing over to sorcerer nets you some Spells, which you cast using your Charisma. you’ve got your filler cantrips like True Strike and Blade Ward, as well as your actually useful stuff like Control Flames and Green-Flame Blade. we’re going for something of a diet paladin build this go-around, all the classic smites with none of the holiness.

but we also need some dragonfire, which is why we’re picking up Burning Hands as well, plus Mage Armor for your lower ascensions.

but that’s not all! Shadow magic sorcerers also get Eyes of the Dark, an extra-strength darkvision that comes with a free copy of Darkness in two more levels. you can cast this one with just sorcery points if you want to see through it.

you also get Strength of the Grave, letting you make a charisma save to avoid reaching 0 HP once per day, unless you drop to a critical hit or radiant damage. I wouldn’t worry overmuch about holy knights though, we’ll have… other ways of dealing with them.

7. Sorcerer 2: second level sorcerers get a Font of Magic, which is just an extra spell slot right now but we can use the points for other stuff later. also you can cast Absorb Elements now, because aside from your fire rune this is the only way to get fire on your sword for a bit.

8. Sorcerer 3: third level sorcerers get to use their sorcerer points for fun stuff like Extended and Empowered spells. the former doubles the duration of the spells and the latter lets you reroll some of the damage dice to stoke your flames even higher!

that will really help your accuracy with spells like Crown of Madness, which makes a cool crown for an enemy that also forces them to attack a random nearby creature each turn. checks and balances, y’know.

9. Sorcerer 4: fourth level sorcerers also get an ASI, and Durable is the only halfway decent constitution bonus feat left that doesn’t require another feat first, so now your constitution is higher and you roll slightly better with your hit dice- essentially if you roll below your constitution score, you can act as though you rolled that 2 instead. which isn’t great, but sorcerer hit dice are teeny, so it’ll get some use.

you can also cast Message for the chaldea-standard communicator, and you get Flame Blade! this makes a one-handed sword that probably doesn’t count for your dueling bonus but it’s stronger than a greatsword and it’s fire!

10. Sorcerer 5: at fifth level you get Magical Guidance, letting you spend sorcery points to re-roll a failed skill check. it’s not quite regular nero’s imperial privilege, but it can be helpful. and with the advent of third level spells, you get the one actual rigged present you can give an enemy, Haste! it doubles the target’s movement speed, adds extra AC, gives them advantage on dexterity saves, and they get an extra turn to boot!

obviously it would be a lot more directly useful on your party, but when you end the spell the affected person loses a turn. you can stop concentrating on a spell whenever you want.

11. Sorcerer 6: at level six, shadow sorcerers can summon a Hound of Ill Omen, a mini-dire wolf, a.k.a. our very first dragon! it can also knock people around and it gets advantage when attacking things with friends around, it also relentlessly targets a single person, passing through objects in a beeline to them, until they’re dead!

you can’t kool-aid man your way through walls just yet, but you can use Ashardalon’s Stride to keep up, and deal damage at the same time.

12. Sorcerer 7: seventh level sorcerers get fourth level spells like Banishment. if your target fails their charisma save you can slap them back to whatever heaven they came from, and if you keep concentration for a full minute they have to stay there.

13. Sorcerer 8: use your next ASI to become an Elemental Adept, letting your fire-based spells ignore resistances, and you can bump any 1 rolled up to a 2. if we’re going all-in on one element, it had better be hot.

you also get a more permanent solution to your holy people problem with Gate Seal, to prevent those sorts of summons in a 30’ cube for a full day. screw gods, deliver until nero that which is nero’s.

14. Sorcerer 9: ninth level sorcerers get fifth level spells, so we can finally summon an actual dragon. or at least we can Summon Draconic Spirit. for up to an hour, you can make a dragon that’ll fight on your side, but like most modern summoning spells it’s very undertuned. it has less HP than you do, for one. still, a dragon is a dragon!

15. Sorcerer 10: tenth level sorcerers get another kind of metamagic, like Heightened. this forces a target to reroll their save against your spell, which given your biggest get-out-of-divine-punishment-free card is a save or suck spell, that will be seeing a lot of use.

you can also cast Friends partly because I was running out of cantrip ideas, but ignore that because you also get Bigby’s Hand! Whether it’s baby draco’s big slapper or the mouth of a dragon, you can reflavor this baby in plenty of ways, so have fun and go wild.

16. Sorcerer 11: eleventh level sorcerers get sixth level spells, and to be honest I’m sick of trying to copy draco’s skills or bio stuff, let’s get some damage and some animations. Sunbeam is a giant freakin’ laser that can blind enemies, and you can keep shooting lasers out for up to a minute after casting.

17. Sorcerer 12: with our last ASI, you can get the Gift of the Chromatic Dragon for some diet smites, adding a d4 of fire damage to your sword for a minute once a day. you can also react to give yourself resistance to an elemental damage type proficiency times a day.

18. Sorcerer 13: we’re also getting to our final spells, starting with our seventh level spell Draconic Transformation. for a minute after casting, you get especially beastly, gaining blindsight, a breath weapon, and wings. it’s not as fast as teleportation, but it’s a lot more flexible.

19. Sorcerer 14: but we’re not done just yet! we still get one more shadow goody, Shadow Walk. as a bonus action you can teleport from one shadow to another, because walking is for peasants.

20. Sorcerer 15: at our final level, you get your truly final spell, Sunburst. it sucks that at the very end they swap out fire for radiant, but this is still a massive fireball, and I won’t say no to a massive fireball.

Pros & Cons:

Pros:

with access to plate mail, a decent amount of HP, and plenty of resistances, you are pretty tough for a gish. the winner is whoever survives the fight, so survivability is never a bad addition to a build.

with long-term damage bonuses from dueling, giant’s might, chromatic gifts, and so on, you have plenty of consistent damage. with action surge and high-level damage spells, you also have some burst damage. and since you can do both, you have plenty of flexibility when it comes to how you fight. some times slow and steady wins the race, sometimes you have to beat someone down before they escape with a macguffin, and you can help with both.

with flight, teleportation, and boosted speed, you can get around easily and always be in an advantageous position. and with crusher, that position is usually “next to a cliff”. you can play merry hell with enemy positioning, and just being around you is a stage hazard.

Cons:

fire. about a tenth of the enemies in D&D are straight-up immune to fire, so even with elemental adept there’s a decent chance you’ll have almost zero magical damage in some fights. even without direct damage you have some options though…

unfortunately your options are save or suck spells, which are very powerful when they work, which is why a good chunk of the game is dedicated to making sure they don’t. banishment and crown of madness can change the course of a fight if they hit, but that’s a big if.

you have a little bit of everything, but you excel at nothing. you have no capped stats, your HP is good but not great, you have some control spells but not a lot of concentration, and you have damage spells but they’re all one type. but at least you’ll always have something to do, unlike some people.

[ms-demeanor]

hi! i’ve been following you for a bit and seen you post abt taking nutrition courses, and i was wondering if you could talk about how you found/vetted your program? i have a community-oriented foodservice job and i’m interested in learning more about nutrition, but i know there’s a lot of dubious stuff/outright pseudoscience in the field so i’m wary of just signing up for the nearest/cheapest class.

So if you're looking at doing nutrition in a serious academic in the US way you need to take courses in an ACEND accredited program; there is an industry compliance standard that is required for RDs/RDNs so I started from there and worked backwards. I looked at state schools in my area that had programs on that list, then looked at community colleges in my area. California has pretty strict rules about accredited community colleges and state colleges in terms of what is transferable and transfer-ability is one of the better markers of a program that is not hot garbage. The school that I'm currently at has a program that complies with the Cal State requirements for an AS-T (Associates of Science Transfer) degree for Nutrition. There's another nearby school that has a more comprehensive program that offers both an AS-T and further lower-division nutrition classes.

If you're not thinking about becoming an RD/RDN (which at this point requires an MS in nutrition, a 10-month internship, and board certification) but want to learn more, I'd still say that working backwards works and you will likely be well served by seeing which schools in your area have an accredited program, which community colleges - if any - they accept transfers from, and signing up for basic classes.

If you're interested in doing an online class, it looks like there's a free class (the audit option is free) on basic nutrition offered through EdX from UC Riverside - this course outline looks very similar to basic nutrition classes I've taken.

The thing is that in some ways nutrition is pretty simple; there are essential nutrients, we need to make sure to get enough of them, a lot of people don't get enough of them, and most people's nutrition can be improved by eating a varied diet that includes many fruits and vegetables with sugar and some kinds of fats in moderation (but everyone needs protein, carbohydrates, and fats as part of their diet).

In other ways nutrition is tremendously complicated, highly specific to individuals, and people look at it as a silver bullet to solve all problems. And the really frustrating thing is that if you've got certain kinds of issues (celiac disease being one example that I'm intimately familiar with) then proper nutrition IS actually a silver bullet. But it's not a silver bullet for, say, heart disease or diabetes (both of which *interact* with the foods a person consumes, but are likely not purely caused by food consumption and may not be significantly mediated by nutritional care alone).

And that makes it a field ripe for charlatans!

But if you're doing community-oriented food service specifically i think that you're probably going to do well looking into programs for nutrition for public health and looking at accredited local schools. If you can't do that, check on what's available from schools that are ACEND accredited but have online classes through stuff like EdX - the UC Riverside program falls into that category, and there were classes from Arizona State University - which has a really widely known, accredited, and popular nutrition program - in that same category.

But. Yeah. I'm sorry. The field is kind of a nightmare and huge chunks of it are very misleading and even if you're looking at well vetted stuff there's going to be some garbage and it's going to depend a lot on the age of the program and how long people have been teaching in that program. It's a mess! It's a fascinating mess but it's a mess nonetheless!

[anukkuna]

Day 15: Morally dubious police work

Sorry, I'm one day late, but here it is!

Spatort content first, some more serious real life stuff later under the cut.

#Homeoffice

Let's be honest, Tatort cops are - most of the time - not an accurate representation of real police work (but that wouldn't make for entertaining TV so... yeah. It's true for almost any crime series, I guess). It's fiction, after all, so it doesn't have to be 100% accurate, as long as it tells an interesting and engaging story (and the inaccuracies don’t pull you out of it too much. That’s probably why an acquaintance of mine, who works as a police officer, once said they can’t watch Tatort. The depiction of police work is often so far off that it throws them off too much).

Personally, I often find myself enjoying morally dubious characters or storylines that I’d find far more troubling in real life.

In real life, I wish Adam hadn’t let Moritz Leimer go. Sure, Moritz might not come after Adam again - maybe he ‘learned his lesson’ when it comes to the King’s son. But he’ll most likely remain a criminal and end up breaking into someone else’s home, hurting or traumatizing another victim. In Spatort, however, I don’t feel as strongly about this.

Adam's decision is morally dubious. In a way, the morally right thing to do would have been to press criminal charges against Moritz. He didn’t just break in - he had a gun, for fuck's sake. This isn't a minor offense, where it would be completely up to the victim whether they press charges or not.

"Das sind mindestens zwei Straftaten, die da gerade davon laufen!"

- Leo, Die Kälte der Erde

On the other hand, Adam can't do that for personal reasons. His reputation at the station is already damaged and he has no idea what Moritz knows or how an investigation might play out. Did Uncle Boris figure out where the money was hidden? Did he tell someone to check under that tree? Has anyone noticed the freshly dug-up earth - or even followed Adam? In the end, would it be more than just the current hearsay... would there be evidence that Adam has the money?

That could mean some serious trouble for him, risking both his job as well as his already strained relationship with Leo.

Plus, Adam was the victim in this specific case - so it could be argued that it’s his right to decide not to file a complaint. And maybe Moritz isn’t as dangerous as he seemed at first? After all, Adam was right: he didn’t shoot him.

"Herrgott, haben se nicht jemanden schicken können, der halbwegs gefährlich wirkt?"

- Adam, Die Kälte der Erde

Moreover, Adam needs to be able to continue investigating - and we wouldn't want him losing his job, would we?

There’s a sense in which Adam’s decision seems both right and wrong at the same time - that’s what makes it morally dubious. It’s the kind of situation where you think: yeah, they shouldn’t have done this, but then again… maybe they should have. Maybe it was justified.

The same goes for Leo’s suggestion to threaten Betty Henschel to force a confession. For a lead police investigator, even considering such a tactic should probably be viewed as a serious moral failing.

Then - once again - as viewers, we know from the start of the film that the four are indeed responsible for Roswitha “Kiwi” Jäger’s death, and we might feel that threatening one of them into a confession is necessary—and therefore justified—to ensure they’re sentenced for it.

(Credits to @snowfox-98 for this collage!)

Yet, not all instances I considered as morally dubious at first, remained so on the final evaluation.

After considering it for a while, I'd say: Leo meeting Adam at the lake and using the evidence he was handed there... or Esther and Leo striking a deal with the criminal to arrest Jens Modall (the evil lawyer)... I don't find these morally dubious.

These were, quite literally, the only options they had to save Adam’s life (to prevent him from being wrongfully convicted of murdering his father). Sure, their actions weren’t in line with the law, so what they did was legally dubious. But the law doesn’t always align with morality, and vice versa. (For instance, in a country where homosexuality is criminalized, we wouldn’t view being homosexual as morally dubious). The same logic applies to cases of civil disobedience.

There are plenty of other decisions from Spatort that could be analyzed and debated over whether they’re morally dubious (and I absolutely love the posts I’ve seen on this so far!).

There’s one teeny-tiny sentence I’d like to highlight as particularly morally problematic:

P: "Der muss es sein. Wir haben sonst keinen."

L: "Das passt nicht zu dem."

P: "Komm, lass mich mal weitermachen. Wir knacken den schon."

- Pia und Leo, Das fleißige Lieschen

Pursuing an investigation when you don’t have any conclusive evidence that your suspect is guilty - and pushing it anyway just because you want a conviction - is wrong. It’s a slippery slope where you start caring less and less about whether the suspect is actually guilty. (Even if that’s not your intention, you just keep pushing and pushing... Just ask Isabelle Grandjean from Tatort Zürich - that did NOT turn out well.) That seems both legally and morally wrong.

Reflecting on this while writing this post, my thoughts kept circling back to real-life cases - not just of morally dubious, but outright morally reprehensible police work that continues to this day (not just in the U.S., but also in Germany).

If you’re interested in three (rather recent) examples that remain significant in Germany today, I’d like to invite you to read about them below.

Oury Jalloh

The first case marks a grim 20-year anniversary from just a few days ago (Jan. 7th): the case of Oury Jalloh, a citizen from Guinea who lived in Germany and died while in police custody cell. He was arrested after street cleaners claimed he had been drunkenly harassing people following a night of clubbing (allegations that were later denied by the supposed victims).

Police brought him to a cell at Dessau police station, where he was searched for dangerous objects. Then he was restrained, tied down on hands and feet to a bed, due to his intoxicated state, but also because he was very angry about being arrested. I'll let Wikipedia take it from here:

"Policewoman Beate H. was working in the second floor control room, together with Andreas S., her superior. On the intercom she heard Jalloh rattling his chains and swearing, so she attempted to calm him and she reports later she heard other officers in the cell. She went to check on him herself at about 11:30 am, without noting anything unusual. She returned to the control room, where Andreas S. turned down the intercom volume and she told him to turn it back up. At around noon she claimed she heard splashing sounds and told Andreas S. it was his turn to check. She originally said that after the fire alarm went off, Andreas S. turned it off twice. When another different alarm went off, he went to check what was going on. Gerhard M. followed Andreas S. downstairs to the cells, where they found Jalloh alive but burning to death. His final word was "Fire".

The police suggested that Jalloh had burnt himself to death, using a lighter to ignite the foam mattress he was lying on in the cell. One appeared in an evidence bag several days after Jalloh's death."

An independent autopsy report found that he had a broken rib, a broken nose and a fracture at the base of his skull, indicating that Oury Jalloh may have been tortured before his death. During the investigations it was found that there had been at least two previous incidents, where persons held in custody had died after being locked up in the same police station (due to internal injuries or fracture of the skull).

One police officer has been suspended, another was displaced to a different station. The charges (of murder) against them were, however, ultimately dismissed by the court.

2. The NSU (National Socialist Underground)

They were a German Neo-Nazi militant organization uncovered in 2011 and they were responsible for several murders during these years. The article is a long one (even more so in German), but what's important here is that it's also an example of police being "blind on the right eye".

They didn't consider or straight up ignored evidence for a right-wing / fascist motivation behind the crimes (all intended victims were (descendants of) immigrants) but instead suspected immigrant clan-feuds to be the motif, despite a lack of evidence for that.

3. NSU 2.0 / The Frankfurt Chat Group

In December 2018, a far-right chat group within the Frankfurt police force came to light. A fax sent by the group, which issued threats against the daughter of NSU victims’ attorney Seda Başay-Yıldız, was signed 'NSU 2.0' in reference to the National Socialist Underground.

The officers have been suspended from duty and are facing disciplinary consequences; however, they are not being prosecuted because the content of their chats is deemed far-right but not criminal. In the abstract, this might seem understandable, but when you look at the specific chats, it becomes deeply disturbing.

It is possible to view the actual chats from the group, as they have been made publicly accessible by a critical satire magazine in collaboration with an initiative for information freedom. If you feel up to it, you can access the real chat logs of the far-right Frankfurt police group through this website and form your own opinion:

But, of course: the devil's in the detail and obviously not ACAB. (I say this as a person, who, for quite some time, was very skeptical towards the ideal of police officers being there to help you or having your best interests at heart).

I just think that with regards to the political situation in Germany right now and the rise of far right and extremist parties, these are cases to be weary of and to keep in mind.

If you have made it to the very end - thank you so much!

I wanted to end this on a positive note. This is the link to a video by a guy, who talks about how he went from transphobe to trans ally:

This might seem a bit random, but I post this here because it is positive case of someone, who makes an argument for talking to one another, despite initial differences - and how progress can be achieved. With the election coming up and families begin often anything but homogeneous, maybe some of you will find this helpful or hopeful!

[copperbadge]

Sam, how did you find your therapist and build such a good working relationship? Every attempt I’ve made at therapy seems to fizzle out after a few months… and no therapist has ever understood the RSD aspect of my ADHD, which makes it all feel a little worse every time I try.

I mean, I think really we're still building it -- I haven't had her more than a couple of months and functionally it's been an every-two-weeks situation most of the time because we keep having to move/cancel. I don't know that I can really speak intelligently to building a relationship with a therapist because this is the first time I've ever done it where I was an adult and in control. As for finding one...

Chicago has a group called Clarity Clinic, which is like a WeWork for mental health professionals -- they offer scheduling, billing, and IT/office space to local people who I think are mostly independent operators otherwise. They have a directory that is highly filterable, so I found my psychiatrist there by filtering to stuff like Adult ADHD and medication management. He's great, but he didn't want to be my therapist and I didn't want him to. When I decided on therapy, I asked him if he knew anyone he could recommend, since he knew what my deal was in terms of personality, behavior, etc.

So he gave me a couple of names of fellow Clarity Clinic folks and I had a look on the website and chose the one that sounded like she'd get on best with me. I think I struck it lucky to be honest -- she's young (compared to me) and has ADHD, and she's very familiar with disability discourse, spoon theory, etc, even fandom to an extent. If I were to go looking today I might look more at therapists who specialize in twice-exceptional individuals, but she's good enough with what I'm aiming at that I don't want to change.

So the best advice I have is if you're being treated for other stuff by someone you trust I'd ask them, but also look for someone experienced with adult ADHD, and I'd look for someone on the younger side who's more likely to be understanding of neurodivergent needs. (I also recommend filtering to queer-friendly therapists if you can; I didn't necessarily need that but it means they're likely to be generally accepting and probably have more liberal politics. With the caveat that in shady places like BetterHealth, "LGBTQIA" counselors are sometimes homophobic creeps with an axe to grind.)

Building the relationship has taken proactivity on my part -- ensuring that I always have an appointment on the books (we book out about six weeks in advance now, because we know one of us will likely need to cancel/rebook at times), making sure that I have either an aim for treatment or at least something to talk about, etc. I think in your case probably having a list of things you want to deal with, so that you can check some boxes up top, might help.

I would definitely open with "I have ADHD and I need help with [aspects of that]; I also have RSD and I need to work with someone who respects that diagnosis and understands how to help with it." I went into mine saying "I have ADHD and I'm also struggling with some really big emotion, so I'm looking for help with those, but also like...I'm not really sure what therapy can offer. I've had some bad experiences in the past but they were all when I was a child, so I'm trying to explore some options." Her reaction was a combination of sympathy and a discussion of the kinds of things we might work on, which helped a great deal.

But yeah, I think it starts with establishing right from the jump what you want and need, and then spending time making sure that you both stay on top of that until you find a rhythm. We're still finding our rhythm, but it's getting easier as I'm learning to be clearer about what I want and more comfortable with being a participant instead of someone therapy just happens to.

[morallygreychaoticneutral]

Well, the last time I posted my opinion on this subject on Tumblr I got harassed so it's why I'm only "active" as an anon. People tend to be very judgemental (on both sides) over this subject because any different opinion is being perceived as an attack on someone's relationship choices. Or judgement over how they play the game, which isn't the case for most of us.

However, I've always taken issue with both "Astarion is poly" AND "Astarion is mono" purely because the canon itself doesn't confirm either one of them. He's not poly just because he allows his partner to have a fling with Halsin. Just like he isn't necessarily mono just because you only romance him in a playthrough. What he is or not is ultimately left for each one of us to headcanon. Like you said, maybe HE will be interested in having multiple partners after the game. Or maybe he wouldn't be. Who's to say exactly?

Again, Larian did a bad job if they truly intended to portray him as poly OR as truly, undoubtedly okay with Halsin. The timing just sucks. And just because he says no when Tav proposes poly with the other companions, it doesn't mean much considering those proposals all come before his act 2 confession, at the time he was performing a lot by trying to be that horny, hedonistic sexy vampire in order to seduce Tav. Likewise, if you date Shadowheart and Astarion at the same time and propose poly to her, she will say "you may be overestimating his desire to share" and "he may seem like a carefree hedonist, but there is something fragile behind the facade" (link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h3HEkbnM_AM - Minthara says something similar. If the writers truly wanted him to be a poly character why did they had two other characters say that basically he's not into sharing?). So these dynamics are vastly different than those when Halsin comes in with his proposal: usually at a time when Astarion takes a break from sex, when he is in a truly insecure position. He may be feeling like he has to allow Tav this since they stuck with him for so long, even after he admitted his plan to seduce them. Even after Cazador when his response is usually seen as being more secure by the fandom, he's still not very enthusiastic. He even says "it is okay if things between us change because of this" or "I trust you to make a decision that won't hurt what we have". How is this him being enthusiastic? Or him wanting this in the first place? I don't know, but if you want to introduce such a big change to your relationship (like opening it), your partner's first instinct being "it's okay if things between us change" aka a hint to a future break up is not a positive thing at all. It's great to hear he will be fine without Tav, but it's also not true that he won't mind if you break up with him (just try the option to see for yourself, if you do it in the epilogue at the Elfsong he gets really angry).

I also want to point out how he allows Tav a lot. If you cheat on him with Mizora all you have to do is say "I'm sorry" every single time he says something and he forgives you in an instant, without even rolling a persuasion check. Yeah, he will try to break up with you but...he forgives so EASILY. You can even have him bite Araj and with the right dialogue choices you'll still be able to keep the relationship. Or force him to eat the astral tadpole. Yes, he learned to say "no" and put some boundaries but Tav can still easily manipulate him.

Simply put, there are far too many hints in the game itself that this isn't something he really wants or that to some extent he is going along with his partner's wishes, at least at this point in time. Sure, he gives Tav his consent but does he really want it? There is a difference between giving consent to a certain thing and wanting that thing for yourself.

I'm sorry you were harassed. Cognitive dissonance can be extremely triggering for some. However, that does not give them license to be abusive.

You have a lot of good points. Which sucks, because if they did intend him to be poly they really missed the mark. And I can absolutely see where that would be disappointing to someone who was expecting that representation.

I agree with what you are saying. He is quite pliable. His boundaries are very blurry. And the personality that I am, that bothers me as well. It very well could be intended as residual trauma behavior. He is so used to just having to go with what whatever decisions others make regarding him that he is still doing it? As someone who was not allowed boundaries for ages. I find myself still slipping into this behavior from time to time.

He is wickedly complex. And I know its silly, his not real. But I even struggled to ask him for a kiss after the confession in act 2. I really needed him confirm he still wanted them. Have a next day interaction where he thanks you for being so understanding, like after the bite scene, and then pulls YOU in for a kiss.

Its just one of those things where you can't please everyone. And we just need to be allowing of how people perceive it through their own lenses. Thank you for the discussion!

[nocturnesheaven]

Chapter 2

Awakening Melodies

A/N: Hɪ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅs! Wᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇ ʙᴀᴄᴋ! Tʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ғᴏʀ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀɴᴅ I ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ!! Aʟsᴏ I PROMSIE, Dɪᴄᴋ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ɪɴᴛʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴇxᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ. Fᴏʀ ɴᴏᴡ ᴡᴇ ᴀʀᴇ #ᴡᴏʀʟᴅʙᴜɪʟᴅɪɴɢ

genre: angst, comfort, coming of age, eventual romance (love interest introduced)

character tropes: parentalfigures!dinahandoliver, eventual romance between fem!readerxdickgrayson

tw: mentions of abuse, night terrors, and talks of child experimentation

You were awoken to the sound of birds outside your window and the sun streaming in on the wood floors. It was a great way to wake up (and a very welcome change from the yelling of nurses to be up and out for headcounts).

In the last two months you were finally starting to adjust to staying in your very own room in Dinah and Oliver’s home. For the first time, you began to feel real comfort. The nighterrors weren’t plaguing you every night. And if they did, Oliver and Dinah were quick to come and check on you. You were surprised at just how well prepared they seemed to be at caring for you.

Your first week in the home, Oliver had offered to take you shopping. You’d only had a hospital gown when they’d rescued you, and while Dinah and Oliver had went out and tried to guesstimate what you’d like, They still wanted to make sure that the clothes and room you had here were personalized for you.

What they’d come to learn was that you’d never been shopping. Oliver had tried his best to explain the concept to you. Which he did so in a very enthusiastic and detailed way. Dinah summarized it much better. Once you understood, you found yourself filled with a warm sense of appreciation for them. It had been a nice gesture and though you were fine with how the room was, as anything was an upgrade from your small cell back at the lab, you’d obliged simply due to the fact that Oliver seemed so excited at his idea.

The ride in the car was fun, Oliver let you sit in the front and told you not to tell Dinah. Though you felt bad keeping information, riding passenger made up for it.

The music played from the radio and it was unlike anything you’d heard. The few times that they’d used music in your experiments at the lab it had been classical.

“Who is this?” you asked Oliver as you listened to the gritty sound of the guitar solo.

“This is Nirvana,” Oliver, who had been humming along and drumming his fingers against the wheel, was absolutely thrilled to divulge you on the lore of Nirvana for the rest of the ride and play you their discography . You made a mental note to remember Nirvana. You quite liked them.

You were excited to try out this shopping thing, that was until you had stepped into the store. That’s when you found yourself completely overwhelmed by the sheer number of options.

“You okay there, kiddo?” Oliver had asked as he pushed the shopping cart up next to you.

“Yeah, just… there’s so many things,” you replied in a tone of awe as you surveyed the store

Oliver chuckled to himself, “Well, welcome to the kingdom of home decor.”

You’d followed him around, allowing him to guide you through each aisle as you attempted to take it all in.

Everytime Oliver would hold up a piece of decor, you would just nod. There were some truly confusing items in the store. Each one more colorful and random than the last. Despite this you nodded and offered small comments to each item he offered you. It was all overwhelming. In your opinion, everything around you was simply nicer than anything you’d ever had. How were you supposed to choose?

About halfway through the trip, Oliver seemed to catch on to the fact that you weren’t exactly loving shopping. You both were in the pillow aisle and he was currently showcasing a plush white pillow and another that said “live, laugh love” with a rainbow embroidered overhead.

“They’re both… nice?” you shrugged.

What were you supposed to say? You were running out of “oh wows” and “mmhms”.

“I guess you guys didn’t do much home decor back home?” he offered a kind smile as he placed the pillows back.

You shook your head with a self-deprecating laugh, “No… not at all.”

“That’s okay,” Oliver offered your shoulder a pat, “we don’t all start off as gifted at interior design as I.”

You raised an eyebrow skeptically as he revealed an eyesore of a pillow. It was yellow and decorated with some sort of neon bird wearing a purple crown.

“Oh now see, this is a real treasure,” he held it to you with a very serious look on his face. As if he was an art connoisseur who had finally found the piece he was looking for all his life.

You laughed at his antics, feeling your trepidation melt away. You were okay. This wasn’t a test, this was just a shopping trip.

“Oh what you don’t think so?” Oliver feigned offense at your laugh, “fine, I suppose it is bit loud.”

After Oliver had lightened the mood, shopping for decor became a lot less stressful. You felt more open to sharing your opinions and Oliver didn’t judge you for it. Instead, he seemed to agree with you? Even if you were being picky, he encouraged it.

Choice wasn’t an illusion.

After checking out at the register, he had described this part to you in great detail when at home, you left the store with a plethora of items. Oliver allowed you to push the shopping cart back to the car, which you felt was a great honor.

Dinah and Oliver had been great at showing patience with you, making sure you got to experience new things but on your own time. And honestly? You had never felt more happy. Your apprehension towards them melted surprisingly quick. With each family dinner, movie night, shopping trip, and nirvana song Oliver played… you felt more at home.

One night after a movie, you’d fallen asleep on the couch instead of in your room. When you woke up you weren’t quite sure what time it was. The room was dark besides the kitchen light, where Dinah and Oliver were cleaning up dishes from the popcorn and dinner. As you laid back down to try and sleep again, you’d overheard them talking.

“She’s been great, Di,” Oliver had said proudly, “she’s making amazing progress!”

“I noticed that,” she agreed as she placed some cups in the cupboard, “I just worry about starting her training. I don’t want her to feel like that’s all we care about.”

“I’m sure when she’s ready she’ll let us know,” Oliver offered in support, “but until then, it’s fun getting to just be parents don’t you think?”

“It would be if you weren’t taking all the fun activities,” Dinah countered, “I’m serious! You always do it while I have to be at the Hall of Justice!”

“Alright, alright,” Oliver kissed her cheek, “I promise you can tag along on our next adventure.”

As you drifted off to sleep, you heard them laughing. It was a lovely sound. One that you hadn’t heard at the lab much. You’d once dreamed of having a family, a real one. Now… maybe you’d finally found one?

It was during one of the family dinners in your third month that you felt ready to tell them you wanted to start working on training. It wasn’t even that you felt pressured. You genuinely wanted to!

Oliver had made lasagna for the three of you, and you were already on your third plate.

Seriously, it was that good.

.The conversation was mostly about regular things, day to day things from their work. You didn’t want to interrupt their stories of the Justice League, as each story had you hooked, but you also felt you needed to tell them now.

“I think I’m ready to start working with Dinah,” you interjected as you took a sip of water

“Y/N,” Dinah placed her hand on yours, “are you sure? It’s only been three months since you moved in… there’s no need to rush-“

“No I’m serious,” you reassured her, “I think I’m ready.”

Dinah and Oliver looked between themselves. Oliver shrugged, though he looked happy.

“Okay,” Dinah looked back at you, “okay… if you really are ready, we’ll start tomorrow.”

So that was how it began. Dinah would drive you down to the Hall of Justice, which you’d come to find out was where you had awoken that first day out of the lab.

It was much more lively now that you were really in the building and not the infirmary. People stopped and greeted you and Dinah. You found yourself a bit nervous around all these people, mostly staying close to Dinah and offering polite smiles. Luckily, Dinah seemed to recognize your awkwardness and kept you guys moving.

After Dinah toured you around the grand marble building, she led you to a spacious room filled with gym equipment, weaponry, and a ring in the middle.

“What is this place?” you asked in a quiet tone

“This is one of our training rooms,” Dinah replied as she turned on the overhead lights, “if it’s alright, today I wanted to just show you around where we’ll be working so you can see that it’s safe?”

You looked to Dinah, appreciation for her clear on your face. She truly cared about accommodating to you. It made you nervous though… what if she was wrong about you? What if you couldn’t meet the expectations? What if you weren’t cut out to help people…

“Do you really think that I can be someone good?” you asked hopefully as you walked towards one of the exercise machines and tried to make sense of what it was.

As you turned back to your mentor, her face was empathetic. She crossed the room to you and knelt down at your level.

“I know you can,” Dinah said earnestly, “and I think you’re gonna see that too…”

Though you wanted to, you couldn’t quite accept her words yet. Regardless, you swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded. You wanted to try.

“Do you want to look around?” Dinah asked you to which you responded with a nod.

Days at the Hall of Justice with Dinah became your routine. Sometimes you’d follow Dinah around and keep an eye on the city from the control room. On your favorite days you’d train in the training room. Training with Dinah was a completely different experience than you’d ever known. She never got angry with you for not doing something she wanted you to. Never once did she scream at you that you were useless. Instead, she made you never felt like you weren’t good enough.

Your abilities were sporadic at best and when they did come through, they weren’t as powerful as they’d been at the lab. A lot of the time, in a desperation to prove yourself, you’d psyche yourself out while trying to use your sonic scream in order freeze things. You also noticed yourself getting distracted easily by other noises when you’d try to hear where someone was in the building…

Each and everytime, you found the words “failure” repeating in your head. Dinah tried her best to assure you, but you’d always get down on yourself..

“I’m just not good enough,” you grumbled once after a failed attempt at paralyzing one of the wooden balls Dinah had thrown in the air

“Y/N, don’t ever say that again,” it was the sternest that Dinah had ever spoken to you, “these things take time.”

“But I swear I could do it before at the lab,” you stated exasperated

Dinah thought for a moment. She believed you, she’d read your files. According to them, you had proved powerful at the lab. She had no doubt you’d be able to harness that part of yourself again without the need for those methods. You just needed to give yourself more credit. That gave her an idea.

“How do you feel when we’re practicing?” she asked

You thought for a moment. While it was certainly frustrating everytime that you got it wrong… it was when you were in the midst of trying to conjure up your abilities you felt something else. Complete anxiety.

To you, it didn’t matter that Bruce had invented earbuds for Dinah to wear during training so that she could be immune to your scream. There was little logic able to console the fear that would take over. You were always psyching yourself out when the thoughts would swirl in your mind that you might hurt Dinah if it went wrong. What if the earbuds didn’t work?

“Scared.” you would reply

Dinah nodded understandably, “Are you willing to try something for me?”

“What is it?” you asked skeptically

“I’m wondering if the doubt and fear you’re feeling towards yourself is throwing you off,” she explained as she retrieved the ball you’d been using from the ground, “this time I want you to focus on something else…”

“Okay,” you agreed as confidently as you could. You were a tired and frustrated… but you were also determined.

“Ready?” Dinah asked to which you nodded in response.

You watched as Dinah threw the ball again. You were going to get it this time. You were sure of it. You had done it before and you were going to do it now.

Time seemed to slow as you took a deep breath. Your mind flipped to thinking about the lab. How you had made it out. You had survived horrors, horrors that were unspeakable even to Dinah and Oliver. And while no one could explain why you had lived past the mass execution, the truth was you were here. You were here and you deserved to be here. When you let out the scream, even you were surprised by the noise. It was strong and steady, like an opera singers. But there was grit behind it too, and you watched as the sound waves extended towards the target. Causing it to freeze in the air. Even when your note cut off, the ball remained floating.

You’d done it.

You stood there shocked. Dinah had been on to something! When you stopped depriving yourself of the trust you deserved, you were shaky. This time you had been determined and sure, and you had done it! You quickly whipped around to make sure Dinah was okay, that had been powerful… what if the earbuds hadn’t worked? But when you met her eyes she was removing the earbuds and watching you with a proud smile.

“Girl, come here,” You were giddy as Dinah pulled you into a hug and twirled you around, laughing with glee, “I’m serious! That was freaking awesome!”

You had done it! Really done it! But you weren’t done…

After letting go of Dinah, you faced the still floating target. Now you needed to get it to the ground.

“Should I try to get it down?” you asked Dinah, looking to her for validation.

Dinah raised an eyebrow at you, signaling you into the choice of words you’d used.

“Oh… right,” you corrected yourself, “I’m going to get it down.”

Dinah smiled proudly as she put the earbuds back in. Giving you a thumbs up.

Over time, you had made great improvements. Once you’d figured out the source of what made your abilities stronger, it was much easier to tap into them. Target practice became a breeze, and your stamina was becoming impeccable.

At times, various members of the Justice League would come down to watch you train. They liked to claim it was to supervise, but Dinah knew they had all become at least slightly invested in the powerful girl from the lab mission. At first, you’d been nervous at the strangers but eventually it not only became routine but became easier to correct your negative thinking.

The constantly rotating audience allowed you to make new discoveries in your abilities. The more people in the room, the more you had to focus on tuning them out. It would be much worse in the outside world. You once had thought that tuning out others was impossible but J’onn had offered to help you find a solution.

“Your hearing is tied into stress. Learning to tune it out in stressful situations is not impossible,” J’onn had informed you on the day he’d been observing, “but it may take time to master.”

That only made you more determined. You had the support of so many people, and all of them had good intentions it seemed. It was such a different environment from the lab. Everyone brought a different thing to the table, offering advice and techniques. Eventually, your training began to move from the training room to various locations. Whether it be forests, deserts, mountains, beaches, or abandoned buildings, the goal was to get you adaptable to all types of surroundings and stressful situations.

There were still bad days of course, you had a lot to learn. Yet by the eight month mark, you’d progressed further than the lab ever could have even dreamed.

It even came up eventually in discussion to have you try crowd control on a smaller scale mission. Dinah was wary, she wanted to make sure you were ready… but you insisted you wanted to at least try.

No matter what, it was undeniable that your power was growing by the daily.

[wouldntyou-liketoknow]

Just Another Night at Sparky's

(Disclaimer: Ness/WaiterPat and Jack/Cabbie!Cory are not my creations. I gave Jack his name because he wasn't given one in the movie. Now, one of the characters you'll be seeing here technically belongs to me, but I don't really consider him a full fanego.)

(I was already planning to write for Ness and Jack, but after I learned how Mark was originally intended to play the role of that first security guard who died, I decided to adopt that abandoned character. Go here for headcanons and a more thorough explanation.)

(Certain plot-points in this story were inspired by @flawlessstriker and @insane4fandoms! These two are very talented artists, and I'm not sure I would've thought of such clever/funny easter eggs if I hadn't seen some of their own work, so please go check out their blogs and show them some love!)

(Trigger Warnings: food and drink, eating/drinking, implied trauma, mentions of past violence, mentions of blood, strong language. Please let me know if I missed anything.) 

In Ness’ personal experience, the people who dined at Sparky’s could be divided into three sections on a metaphorical pie chart. 

Twenty-four percent of customers were. . .just a little off. Not like that was necessarily a bad thing, mind you. Working in the restaurant business meant having to interact with lots of people each and every day. At some point, you’d learn to pick up on certain things that were odd in the way you couldn’t quite put your finger on (or, perhaps you just knew deep down that you didn’t want to). 

Ness strolled out of the kitchen and into the seating area, expertly balancing a tray on one hand. He approached a couple of bespectacled young women in one corner of the diner. 

Their visits to Sparky’s were a bit sporadic, but they never failed to claim that one booth in the corner that no-one else ever sat at no matter how crowded the joint was. The backpacks they always hauled along were positioned further up the booth’s seat cushions, half-open and nearly overspilling with various books. 

They always used indoor voices, but he could still pick up bits and pieces of their conversation whenever he was near. 

Tonight was no different:

“—he’ll be hungrier than usual,” murmured the one on the left, who boasted short, wavy hair that had been dyed a dark shade of violet. It complimented her shirt, which read ADOPT A FAMILIAR at the top. Pictures of creepy-looking critters were displayed beneath the message, orange-eyed and outlined by blue against the black fabric. “And he’ll need a live one this time.”

“Ooh,” replied the one on the right, who sported a yellow shirt with the screen-printed likeness of some obscure, spikey-haired cartoon character near the collar. A blonde ponytail spilled out from the back of her ball cap. “Who’s it gonna be? The lady whose eyes were found in that jar last month?”

“Nah, she’ll be in some psych ward. Too far-gone to keep on the playing board, y’know?” A sly grin etched its way across Urban Fantasy Nerd’s features. “I was actually wondering if you’d like to choose. Your guy is making the delivery, after all.”

“Ah, that’s right!” Cartoon-Fan snickered in a way that was just a teensy bit unhinged. “I can already see him slipping on some of the blood."

“Third time’s a charm?” Ness asked as he halted, carefully setting this duo’s Usual on the table. 

(Two milkshakes: one chocolate, the other strawberry. Yeah, it was kind of basic, but he wasn’t too much of a judgemental guy. Besides, Sparky’s shakes were a much safer option than the lilac-colored drinks that chicken shack around the corner had started selling. And Ness didn’t just carry that opinion because of his employment. During one of his typical night-walks, he’d passed an alley just in time to see said purple beverage oozing through said chicken shack’s windows. The strong, sugary smell wafting off it had reminded him of prion disease.)

The girls both paused. Though they smiled up at him and offered quiet “Thank-yous,” as they moved their respective, sticker-covered laptops out of the way, visible confusion mixed itself into their gratitude. 

“For the university’s creative writing contest, I mean,” Ness elaborated. “There were articles in the paper about the last two, and I saw your pictures in the list of winners. Congratulations, by the way.”

“. . .Oh,” Urban Fantasy Nerd answered, exchanging careful glances with her friend. “Yeah. Writing. Let’s go with that.”

“If anyone asks, we were also writing here two months ago,” Cartoon-Fan added with a conspiratory wink. “On Friday, between five-thirty and nine o’clock.” 

Ness chuckled, raising one hand to pull an invisible zipper over his lips. “You’ve got it. Enjoy.”

As he retraced his steps to organize some stuff behind the coffee counter, a little voice in the back of his theater-trained head wondered if the girls’ tones had been joking enough. Unlike many times before, he pushed that voice aside.

On one hand, missing person cases did always seem to pop up on the news channels a few days after the two students stopped by to enjoy milkshakes while typing away and occasionally turning the screens of their laptops toward one another. 

On the other hand. . .well, those cases were always located states and states away, typically near more seaside areas. None of them had been anywhere close to Utah. (Not yet, at least.)

Besides, even if those girls were somehow connected to more sinister things than their coursework, they were still very nice. Good tippers, too. Nowhere near the worst patrons Ness had served in his time.

The strange customers almost always seemed to come in pairs.

Like the duo of twenty-somethings from last week. One sported ginger hair and a She/They button pinned to their  jacket. The soot-stains on said jacket had been very obvious, as were the burn scars on their palms, but she’d still been a delight to make smalltalk with.

The other, a pale young man, had been much more quiet, but still friendly. He’d kept peering through the window at (what was presumably) his or his friend’s car, shakily fidgeting with the headphones around his neck, so it’d taken some time for Ness to realize that his eyes were just as reflective as mirrors.

(For the duration of their stay, the jukebox over by the counter had spat out songs that most certainly weren’t on its index cards. Fine, that might’ve caught Ness a bit off-guard at first, but he still knew to appreciate variety.)

Or the two men who’d come in a few months ago, wearing battered navy-blue bomber jackets and thousand-yard-stares. The one with a dyed-red fauxhawk had screamed and practically leapt out of his skin when Ness came over with menus and his usual greeting, but he’d apologized soon enough. After giving Ness a thorough look-over, that is.

His companion, a similarly dark-eyed man with a larynx that could only be found on seasoned musicians, had muttered, “Don’t mind him. We’ve just. . .had a bit of a rough trip.” His voice hadn’t been unkind, but he’d kept glancing at Ness whenever he thought he wasn’t looking. 

Well, perhaps that particular pair had broken the trend a bit. Because a few hours after they’d paid for their food and left, a lone traveler had come in.

His bloodshot eyes—which Ness could’ve sworn were orange instead of brown—had never stopped bulging, never stopped darting this way and that above his rictus of a smile. When he wasn’t speaking, he’d hum or murmur things with a shakiness that was typically found in rabid dogs.

He’d asked for way more coffee refills than could ever be considered healthy, as well as if Ness had seen anyone fitting the descriptions of Red-Haired-Screamer and Wary-Possible-Musician. Ness, following his instincts, had said no, to which the loner started simply shaking his head and grinning with a mouthful of teeth that looked a smidge too sharp.

Or the scruffy man who'd started coming in for breakfast every other week with his young sister in tow. He was living proof that you could recognize someone without officially knowing them. After all, it was pretty damn easy for Ness to remember almost making eye-contact with him, barely moving out of reach of his flashlight’s beam in time, and then having the seconds feel like hours as he watched him shake his head and mutter to himself about seeing things. 

It wasn’t like that’d been Ness’ first little midnight rendezvous around Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzaria. Just like how that particular man wasn’t the first security guard who’d gotten dangerously close to spotting him during his unofficial, self-driven investigations.

For the record, Ness knew that said investigations weren’t legal—especially not if you counted some of the things he’d. . .borrowed from the old animatronic jamboree restaurant—but he’d made his peace with that.

He hadn’t been sneaking around there to deal drugs or partake in any himself.

He wasn’t exactly chasing the adrenaline that always came with an evening full of ducking around corners and trying to ignore how loud his shoes sounded against linoleum floors when he rushed to find anything he could feasibly hide behind, underneath, or inside of.

He never meant any harm when it came to snooping.

It was just a simple case of having a little too much curiosity.

Thankfully, Security Guard #13 still had yet to show up at Ness’ place with some accompanying cops, so it seemed he didn’t recognize Ness as anything other than a humble waiter. (Or, if he did actually recognize Ness from that night, then he was miraculously chill enough to not bring it up and get him in trouble.)

The very first time they’d paid Sparky’s a visit, it would’ve been impossible to ignore the distinct smell that had been wafting off of Security Guard #13. It’d had a bite to it; like machine oil mixed with something much more. . .organic.

From that bleak look Ness had seen in his eyes, Security Guard #13 was most certainly NOT what anyone could call unbothered, but he was still polite. Plus, Kid Sister was the type who just deserved all the crayons in the world, what with the little masterpieces she’d decorated the paper menus with.

So, yeah. There was a genuine difference between oddball customers and customers that made you lose some of your faith in humanity. 

People who asked for trout to be blended into their yogurt parfait or for their donuts to be topped with slices of pickles that had gathered fuzz from their mysterious journeys at the back of the refrigerator were still easier to handle than people who threw temper tantrums because they didn’t get a refill in under thirty seconds. 

Back to the pie-chart—another forty-six percent of customers were perfectly decent and standard.

Plenty of the locals had a soft spot for this joint; Ness had lost count of all the times he’d been told that the pancakes served here were some of the best on planet Earth. Yeah, praise like that technically wasn’t directed at him, but the cooks were great people to work with, so it still made him happy to relay said praise to them. 

He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t awkward for someone to confusedly ask if they’d already seen him working at the bar on the other side of town. Even so, that once-a-month occurrence always left him amused rather than annoyed. If anything, it attested to that particular customer’s observation skills. 

Sure, he and Sans were identical twins—the fact that their uncle had mixed them up on several different occasions when they were little was still a running joke in the family. But it’d been years since Sans had decided to remedy that via a skeleton face-mask and a dark blue leather jacket, and he’d made a habit to don both aforementioned garments each day ever since then. (Ness was still in partial disbelief that the manager at Grillby’s was cool enough to let Sans wear them over his uniform.)

Just as many of Sans’ customers apparently ended up mistaking him for Ness. Sans got a nice little kick out of that, of course. He hadn’t just been born with a comedic heart—it truly seemed every bone in his body was a funny one. Some people would argue that he just delivered puns upon more puns upon even more puns, but Ness knew his brother better than that. 

After all, Sans had been the one to train him to deal with the last category of customers: the thirty percent of entitled neanderthals who thought treating staff as less than human would somehow magically make their miserable lives more interesting. 

“Food work is all about balance,” Sans had explained sometime after he and Ness had grown tall enough to take plates and cups from a counter without having to stand on their tip-toes. “You’ve gotta be nice and still let people know that you won’t take their crap. If they’re civil, then you’re helpful. But if they’re rude. . .” Sans had paused, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “. . .then you have a little fun.” 

Ness had always been a pretty fast learner. It’d taken a week or so of practice, yeah, but with his twin’s help, he’d developed a tongue sharp enough to rival any butcher knife in the kitchen.

“You use a lot of big words for a waiter,” snorted a wannabe business bigshot with a wrinkled clip-on tie and a way, waaaaaay over-gelled hairdo that spoke volumes of desperation. 

Ness, who’d been explaining the differences between certain ingredients and flavor-enhancing chemicals because Hair Gel’s girlfriend had asked a fair question about the smoothies on the menu, barely batted an eyelid when he came back with, “And you smell a lot like hotdog water for someone who apparently doesn’t work with food.”

“This was the WORST thing I’ve ever put in my mouth!” Exclaimed a woman with an unidentifiable crust caked around the corners of her eyes and an ill-fitting shirt that was advertising some essential oil brand.

“I highly doubt that,” Ness mentioned, raising an eyebrow as he took the plate (which was suspiciously much emptier than when he’d first brought it out) from her table, “but whatever you say. . .”

“Oh! Thank you!” A tiny boy who couldn’t have been older than seven chirped, bouncing in his seat when Ness placed a sundae down in front of him.

Ness had been about to reply, but the boy’s mother—a lady who was trying very hard to look posh (but not succeeding very well due her asymmetrical haircut, as well as all the little green marks around the jewelry she was practically drowning in)—cut him off. 

“You don’t need to thank him, sweetheart,” she’d instructed, reaching across the table to corral her son. “That’s his job.”

That one had, admittedly, forced Ness to take a deep breath and appeal to his higher self for a few seconds.  Despite this, he’d still made sure to look that Karen dead in the eyes when he observed, “I’m not sure what your problem is, ma’am. But it must be hard for you to pronounce.”

(At least the boy didn’t seem to be too influenced; his bright eyes were nothing but apologetic when Ness came back with the check.)

The relative silence was shattered by the jingling call of that little bell suspended over the front entrance. Ness blinked, his train of thought screeching to a halt. He glanced over in the door’s direction, grinning at a familiar sight. 

Another regular; one that Ness got to have actual conversations with on nights like tonight. 

Mason glanced around at all the empty tables, brushing back his nearly shoulder-length raven hair and quickly getting the hint that he could just seat himself.

A golden retriever trotted beside him, connected to a leash in his hand via a pink vest that’d been fastened around her shoulders and belly. It was adorned by black velcro straps that read THERAPY DOG in a bold white font. The forest-green sherpa hoodie Mason always seemed to wear was only about half as fluffy as her fur.

Ness ducked into the kitchen. No more than three seconds had passed before the last cook on duty for tonight—a lanky blonde guy who was perhaps the most unapologetically flamboyant foodie you could ever have the honor of knowing—called, “Order Up! Your buddies’ Usuals, fresh from that babbling kiddie pool of oil.”

Dylan set a triad of dishes onto a waiting platter: the first held a stack of waffles (much like Sparky’s pancakes, their recipe was a secret that his very own grandmother had entrusted him with) and fried chicken tenders. The second supported a small mound of bacon. The third was adorned by a couple club sandwiches with a side of mozzarella sticks.  

“Thanks, man. Right on time,” Ness called back as he hefted the platter up, balancing it on the anterior region of his forearm like he'd been taught so long ago, and traipsed back out. The door swung to and fro behind him as he headed over to Booth Five. 

Though she wasn’t actually in the booth, Checkers was still right by her owner’s side, sitting in a way that could almost remind you of those lion statues guarding the entrance to a Chinese temple. She spotted Ness before Mason did. Her ears perked up, tail starting to wag. Her tongue lapped in and out of her mouth like a party favor as she smiled in that way only dogs could.

Mason, who’d been gazing through the window and fidgeting with his hoodie’s drawstrings, ever-so-slightly flinched as Ness began setting the plates down on the table with a chorus of small clunks. He blinked at the food, as if suddenly remembering the weekly tradition he’d made here.

“How do you always do that?” Mason asked as he turned his head toward Ness, a small smile etching its way across his features. 

“Magic,” Ness answered. “Careful, it’s hot.”

He carried the now empty tray back over to the counter. There, his hands became a blur as he snatched up the coffee pot and produced a trio of mugs. After stirring memorized amounts of cream and sugar into the fresh brew, he returned to the table, setting two of the beverages beside the plates.

Ness hovered, his own cup of smoldering caffeine in hand, and glanced around the restaurant. Aside from Mason and those two writers in the corner (who, as Ness had learned, took generous amounts of time with the shakes they always ordered), Sparky’s was empty tonight. 

With that in mind, Ness dragged a chair away from one of the other tables, positioning it at the end of the booth. Yeah, he could’ve just sat on the opposite side of Mason, but that part of the booth was typically reserved for another one of his friends.

Subtle relief washed over Ness’ knees as he took a seat; he’d been standing and walking pretty much all day.

Mason plucked a strip of bacon from one of the plates, checking to make sure that it was nice and warm without threatening to burn the palette. He then lightly tossed it over to Checkers, who snapped it out of the air almost like a frog catching flies. She lowered her head as the treat crunched between her teeth.

“How’ve things been?” Ness inquired, taking a sip of his coffee. “The theater’s gotten busy, yeah?”

Mason nodded as he took a fork and knife into his hands, cutting a piece off of one of the waffles and dipping it into the complimentary cup of syrup. “Yeah, it really has. Feels like whenever one movie runs its course and is taken off our roster, two more pop up in its place. Especially now that Scream 3 is finally on the market."

“. . .Oh, that’s right! It is!” Ness ever-so-slightly jumped in his seat. After enjoying the first two movies, he’d been meaning to give the latest installment a look. But so far, whether it was Sparky’s being slammed on the more favorable days or Royal Edgar’s Cinema being too crowded for his liking, things had just kept getting in the way.

Acting on instinct, Ness fished a pencil from one of his waist-apron’s pockets. At first, said pencil might not have seemed like anything special. But then you saw Fabio: a priceless treasure shaped like a rubber chicken’s head covering up the eraser. Ness started spinning the pencil between his fingers, causing Fabio to wiggle as though it was alive.

“Have you seen it already? Is it good? I have so many ideas about where the story could pick up from—”

“Hey, hey. Slow down," Mason remarked with some clear exasperation. “I haven't, but I am scheduled to project its last showing sometime next week. . .” He took a bite out of one of the chicken tenders, humming thoughtfully as he chewed. He must’ve seen the glint in Ness’ eyes, because he offered a sly smirk and lowered his voice as he continued.

“Tell you what: I’ll find a way to sneak you into the projection booth. That way, we can check it out together when the day comes.” 

“Really? You’d do that for me?” Ness asked, jokingly clutching his mug in both hands and bringing it close to his heart. 

“Sure. It’s really not too different from the customers smuggling their own snacks past the ticket desk,” Mason shrugged, though his mischievous demeanor briefly turned deadpan. “So long as you don’t play detective the entire time. My boss would rip me a new one if I just paused the movie every five minutes to let you brainstorm and talk.”

Ness scoffed, rolling his eyes. “It wouldn’t be every five minutes.”

Mason raised an eyebrow. “You’re right; it’d probably be every two minutes.” He forked up another bite of the waffles, firmly ignoring the offended waiter noises. 

“Oh, and don’t try to guilt-trip me out of my food, either. I’ve already got one moocher to deal with.” Mason scratched Checkers’ ears, to which she responded via tilting her head to the side, an undeniable trace of smugness in the warmth of her amber eyes.

“You drive a hard bargain,” Ness pronounced, his voice dripping with much more sarcasm than usual, “but fine. I can work with that.” 

“Uh-huh. You’d better,” Mason snorted, reaching over to shake hands with his friend as though the two of them were lawyers who’d just settled on some sleazy business arrangement. 

Mason was a complex person. Everyone had issues, and he was no exception to that. Not like he was at all open about said issues, but once you got to know him, you’d start to see them. (Plus, that just seemed a lot nicer than describing him as a swarm of issues shaped like a man.) He was the type to constantly shift in his seat, to give most people the side-eye, to get lost in his thoughts and grimace at nothing until he snapped himself out of it. 

At least he seemed content working at the theater. Even with the spark of horror that never seemed to leave his eyes, Mason was clearly a creative bastard. Sometimes he’d bring notebooks in and take breaks from his meal to fill their pages with paragraphs or sketches. He really did seem to have the potential for acting, maybe even directing. If his critiques and commentary on the movies he had to watch from the projection booth were anything to go by, then the projects he could possibly work on would be nothing short of awesome. 

He’d actually been one of Freddy’s past security guards. Ironically enough, he and Ness hadn’t met there. Not that Ness minded, since A. if that’d been the case, there probably would’ve been way more confused screaming than there usually was at Sparky’s, and B. considering the fact that Mason’s employment had apparently lasted a whopping one singular night. . . 

Ness still didn’t know the full story, and he could tell pressing Mason for info wouldn’t end well. But with the few snippets Jack had carefully enlightened him with. . .well—

Speak of the devil. 

The front door’s bell only had about half a second to chime yet again, almost drowned out by rapid footsteps.

“You’re late,” Ness jokingly chastised as he caught dark brown skin and black hair in his peripheral vision. He shifted in his chair, moving his legs to make some room under the table as another one of his regular-friends hurried over to claim Booth Five’s empty seat. 

“Yeah, yeah. Sue me,” Jack retorted, instantly propping his elbows on the table to knead at his forehead. It took a few long seconds for him to notice how one of his favorite dishes had apparently been waiting for him. He squinted at the food, then at Ness. “. . .I wasn’t sure I’d even be able to make it tonight?”

“And yet, here you are,” Ness replied, the definition of coy with how his shoulders popped up and down again. 

Jack might’ve wanted to ask more questions, but Mason cut him off. “Look, I don’t get it either. He doesn’t know, but he just knows.”

Jack considered this, then tilted his head to convey the type of acceptance that only came when you couldn’t really question things that probably should be questioned because you already had too many things to focus on. 

“Thanks, dude,” he murmured, nodding to Ness as he plucked one of the mozzarella sticks from his plate.

Ness nodded back, taking a few more gulps of coffee. “No problem.”

Jack paused mid-bite, eyes darting over to the brew that’d been poured for him. He scrutinized it, then raised the mug up and started chugging like a champ. 

The display made Ness glad that he’d taken the time to experiment with coffee so long ago. There was no doubting how he could now calculate exactly how much time it took for coffee to go cold. Yeah, this particular serving had been fresh out of the pot a few minutes ago, but by now it had to be at optimal temperature. Neither scalding nor tepid: just nice and warm. 

After about a moment, Jack pulled the now empty mug away from his face, taking a deep breath as he set it back down on the table.

“Rough day?” Ness inquired, specific parts of his brain starting to tick. 

Something seemed off. 

It wasn’t like he had any room to talk about slight bean juice addictions. And he certainly couldn’t blame Jack for a dependency (especially since he’d even shown some undeniable intrigue at Ness’ argument that coffee was a type of soup). Sure, Jack wasn’t narcoleptic, but when a day-and-night operating cabbie didn’t have access to some perks, things just wouldn’t go well for him or his passengers. 

But whenever Jack popped in for a bite and a chat, it was easy to assume that he’d be heading home and going to bed right after his meal. Right now, however, his demeanor was anything but tired. His shoulders were rigid. His eyes were more or less threatening to pop right out of their sockets. In fact, he almost seemed to be weighing the options of never sleeping again. 

Jack chewed his lip as he glanced in the waiter’s direction. He slowly nodded. “. . .You could say that.”

Ness exchanged glances with Mason, who had obviously seen the signs for himself. As did Checkers, since she quietly maneuvered around Ness’ chair to rest her head on Jack’s lap, peering up at him with an almost human-like air of understanding. Jack didn’t hesitate to pet the shiny fur along the dog’s neck, to which her tail started wagging but she otherwise remained still.

“What happened?” Mason asked, sitting up a little straighter. “If the vibes you’re giving off got her attention, then it must be something serious.”

Jack grimaced, closing his eyes with what seemed to be more force than necessary, taking a few long seconds to rub at their lids. 

“Did you see any rabbit-shaped things out by the dumpster? I think they only come around once a month or so, but I always feel strange if I look at them.” The words glided out of Ness’ mouth and into the air before he could think. 

Self-induced humiliation wrapped its awful, clammy hands around his ribcage as two confused glances were aimed in his direction.

“. . .What?” Jack and Mason blurted in near-perfect unison.

“What?” Ness echoed, blinking as his voice instantaneously grew a smidge louder than before. He rushed to plaster his typical, happy-go-lucky demeanor back onto his face, hoping that pretending he hadn’t spoken at all would convince his friends that he actually hadn’t. 

Not only did his latest sentence sound weird as all hell, but it’d also been downplayed as all hell. Because when Ness had said strange, what he’d really meant was the pounding, churning, pummeling agony that should only ever be present in your stomach after you’ve accidentally swallowed a few dozen live rats that just so happen to be whacked out on cocaine for whatever godforsaken reason. 

And while he wasn’t a perfect angel, Ness would never wish that particular pain on anyone else. So, the fewer people who knew about the floppy-eared cryptids (which Ness could’ve sworn looked like they’d been covered in mucus) that were apparently engrossed in  gang warfare with the local raccoons, the better. 

“Ah, did you get a bad passenger today?” Ness coughed. Jack had to deal with as many entitled idiots as Ness, if not even more. Hell, taking turns venting about that stuff was something they’d initially bonded over.

He peered through the window next to the booth—Jack’s cab was parked close enough to see that there wasn’t anything to indicate an accident. Not a life-threateningly serious one, at least. 

“Not exactly,” Jack replied, following his gaze. Where Ness’ eyes were curious, Jack’s were currently anxious and mistrusting. That was another red flag: Jack may not have treated his taxi like it was his baby, but he still took pretty good care of it. “Just a few more weirdos.” 

Mason hummed, tilting his head. “How weird specifically?” He’d heard plenty of Jack’s tales from the road; as he called on Jack for rides somewhat often, he’d even ended up being part of those tales. 

Jack knitted his brows, fidgeted in place. “You don't want to know."

“. . .Then why did you make it sound so damn vague?” Mason retorted, now dripping with incredulousness. “The less specific details are, then the more they’re gonna nag at someone’s brain.”

“He’s got a point,” Ness agreed, lightly tapping Fabio’s pencil against his mug. 

“Like that’s my fault,” Jack snorted. “Most people wouldn’t believe me if I told them.”

Ness offered an encouraging smile. “Good thing we’re not most people, then.”

Mason nodded. “Damn right. C’mon, Jack; are you really saying something could top the crackhead I had to share the backseat with last month?” 

“Yes, I am,” Jack whisper-shouted through gritted teeth, “because it was a bear!” 

Silence (save for the soft click-clack of keyboards from the corner of the diner, that is).

Jack pursed his lips, looking equal parts exasperated and worried. He sighed yet again, reaching up to press his fingers against his temples.

“. . .What kind of bear was it?” Ness eventually tried. 

Mason, who’d previously been squinting while his mouth opened and closed with no words coming out, turned his head to face Ness with such speed and force that he might’ve actually given himself whiplash. “That’s the first thing you focus on?!”

Ness made a shaky lame gesture. “It’s a fair question! What’re you focusing on?” (He wasn’t wrong. There was a lot of variety among bears, after all. And a bear that lived in the woods and had huge claws and could outeat, outrun, outswim, and probably even outdrink the average person would be a lot more to handle than one of the bears that had attended the latest local Pride parade.) 

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that you,” Mason declared, returning his attention to Jack, “look significantly less mauled than most people who get close to bears! Seriously, how is your face still connected to your skull?!” 

“I didn’t mea—!” Jack was about to go on the defensive, but stopped short. “What, were you expecting me to get ripped to shreds tonight? So damn sorry if I didn’t get the memo!”

“No! Of course not!” Mason contended. “Look, you can’t just say you had a run-in with a bear and leave it at that!”

Jack threw his hands up. “Well, I told you you didn’t want to know!”

“How the hell can we not NEED to know now?” Ness pointed out. Though he was growing just as confused as Mason, he tried to keep his voice even.

Jack gave him an exhausted look before craning his neck to rest his head against the booth’s seat, staring at the ceiling. 

“It was a huge robot,” he finally clarified. “Looked like it’d been at the bottom of a scrap heap for years; I’d guess it was older than my dad. But its eye glowed blue like the machines inside it were still working. It made the car shake—I’m honestly surprised the back tires never gave out. And God damn, the smell. . .rust and blood and mucus, I swear!”

Now it was Mason’s turn to go rigid. A tidal wave of emotion seemed to sweep through his features; first surprise, then recognition, and then dread. He placed a hand on the nearest corner of the table as if to steady himself. 

“It was wearing a black top hat and bowtie, wasn’t it?” He murmured. It sounded much more like a statement than a question, and the way his tone had become so hollow didn’t help.

Jack lowered his head, clearly unsure whether or not to make eye-contact as he nodded. 

“Sounds like the way Freddy was designed. . .” Ness mused without quite meaning to. 

Memories of the huge sign that had been built to loom over the old pizzeria’s front entrance flooded into his head. The blinking lights that bordered the establishment’s title and seemed to chase each other around and around and around. The life-sized cutout of the one and only Freddy Fazbear himself, using one paw to adjust his bowtie and the other to wave, seemingly beckoning customers to wander inside. 

Those memories dissolved as Ness winced and glanced back at Mason, who was now reaching up with a shaking hand to grasp at his hoodie’s collar, tugging it to cover up the top of an old, deep scar that dragged along the skin of his neck. Ness shuffled in his seat, trying not to stare at how quickly the color drained from his friend’s face. 

Checkers was back by Mason’s side in an instant, bracing her paws against the seat as she licked at his face. Mason blinked, a huge shudder rippling through his chest as he hugged his pet.

A few minutes dragged by, feeling like an hour apiece and jeering at the trio as they went.

“So.” Mason finally announced, still keeping his gentle-yet-obviously-desperate hold on Checkers. “Let me get this straight: that. . .that thing got into your cab like it paid rent just a few hours ago?” 

Jack pursed his lips, nodding again. “There was a kid with it, too. A little girl. She didn’t even seem scared at all. The whole ride, she was smiling and hugging the bear’s arm—”

“Wait, you actually drove it somewhere?!” Mason demanded.

Jack sputtered. “What other choice did I have?!”

“I mean, that’s kind of literally his job,” Ness mentioned. 

True, he was grappling with the fact that he and his friends had apparently been transported into some cheap bizzarofiction novel. And yet, somehow, this wasn’t even the craziest story that’d been relayed to him from a customer. He peered down at Fabio as though it was about to start contributing to this conversation. “Where did you take them?”

Jack raised an eyebrow at Ness (which he guessed couldn’t be helped. Ness already had an idea, but it was rude to just assume, wasn’t it?). “Where else? That old pizza joint you’ve been trying to write an encyclopedia on.”

Mason was about to say something else, but stopped short in favor of turning his shock toward Ness.

Ness raised his hands in a defensive gesture. “Look, I know you don’t like that place, but just remember that I don’t question what you do with your free-time.”

“That’s right. And even if you did, you wouldn’t have to, because I don’t spend my free-time poking around the fourth Circle of Hell!” Mason snarked. 

“I won’t lie and say it’s not creepy,” Ness admitted, unable to stop a chill from racing down his spine at the memory of the restaurant’s grimy wall posters, the draft that always seemed to be in the air over there, the disturbingly sour tang of what he’d hoped was just ancient pizza sauce, “but that still seems pretty harsh.”

Mason gawked, fragments of words leaking through his teeth.

“If we’re looking at the bigger picture,” Jack coughed, probably attempting to steer Mason away from a potential stroke, “then nothing really happened tonight. The bear didn’t even make a peep the whole time. I didn’t get hurt, and that girl didn’t get hurt. She even left a handful of change when we got to the restaurant.”

Ness squinted and tilted his head at that. As far as he knew, the rules Jack applied to his cab were pretty lax and basic, but he’d always been firm on never taking money from lone child passengers.

Then again, if the child passenger in question was traveling with a huge robotic animal that apparently had enough sentience to use a taxi in the first place, it was probably best to just go along with whatever happened and leave the sanity-questioning session for later.

Jack fiddled with the zipper on his jacket. “. . .That actually wasn’t even the worst part of tonight’s shift.”

Mason leaned back against the leather seat, looking very much lightheaded. His eyes bulged from their sockets as he furiously motioned for his friend to elaborate. 

Jack hesitated before explaining, “Well, once the girl and the bear were out, I decided to just call it a day. After I got far enough away from the pizzeria, I parked by one of the downtown curbs and switched the car’s sign to Off Duty. I was trying to get a catnap in—”

“It’s a miracle you could even try to sleep after that damn bear basically held you hostage,” Mason interjected.

“—when someone knocked on the window. I told ‘em to read the sign and come find me later, but they opened up the door and got in anyway. So, I was about to kick them out and. . .” Jack trailed off, shaking his shoulders as though a few dozen cockroaches had spontaneously taken up nest in his jacket.  

“And. . .?” Ness echoed, the curiosity-concern cocktail in his mind getting stronger.

“And there was some tiny doll in my passenger seat,” Jack concluded. “Looked creepy as hell.”

Ness hummed in consideration. “Sounds like it could just be a weird prank? The teens in that area are always following strange trends.”

Jack nervously shook his head. “I couldn’t see anyone outside the cab. It only took a few seconds for me to look; there’s no way anyone could move fast enough to hide after they put the doll in.”

“A tiny doll. . ?” Mason’s brow furrowed in thought for a couple seconds, then promptly returned to its collision course for Mars. He leaned over the table. “Did it have bug-eyes and buck teeth? Was it wearing one of those stupid propeller hats and holding a red-and-yellow striped balloon?”

Jack’s face contorted in confusion as he nodded. “. . .That pretty much sums it up.”

Though his expression was still grim, Mason’s fear quickly metamorphosed into some good ol’ fashioned aggravation. “That’s the bastard,” he seethed, knuckles turning white. 

Jack blinked, perplexity slowly overtaking his latest case of heebie-jeebies. “Wait, you’ve seen that thing before?”

“I have, unfortunately.” Mason grimaced. An odd type of adrenaline etched its way across his face. ���Is it still in the cab?”

Jack nodded again. “I didn’t want to risk touching it.”The words were barely out of his mouth when Mason rose from the booth and stalked outside through Sparky’s front entrance. Checkers trotted after him, the tiredness of an actual nurse flickering in her eyes.

Ness and Jack basically had frontrow seats to observe their friend approaching Jack’s cab, ripping the passenger-side door open and fishing something out before slamming it closed again.

With that, Mason raced to the edge of the parking lot and proceeded to dropkick what had to be the mysterious balloon-toting doll out of sight.

Despite his shock, part of Ness still felt relieved that Mason hadn’t simply deposited it into the dumpster. Just in case those awful rabbit-looking things happened to be paying a visit tonight. . .

@sammys-magical-au @that-bat @th3w00ds @bee-the-matpat-simp @touyubesposts @crazy-obsessed-enby @i-used-to-wear-the-fedora @holyawesomestitches @s-e-v-e-n-24 @sotogalmo @ciphershadow @deethedustyassdumbass @theechoingmadness @its-a-goddamn-ass-race @zam-witch @box-goat @redd-byrd @icantmakeupagoodname @pleasedontmind-the-emerald @transparentghosty @vegaslvrr @itzqueers-blog @wannabeavocaloidmystery @shivr0ygf @ciara-clycone @not-made-of-actual-rye @m0on-shro0m @imafruitbowl @azure-trash @il0v3mus1cals @v1r-x @kafkaisnotdead @junaslagoon @alicethemenace @ilovenikkisixx @m00nlight-mexican @w0rd3855 @head-without-a-fucking-brain. @unkn0wn-nys @not-made-of-actual-rye @101k-t101 @theonlykala @dividel @riff-is-on-a-fucking-crisis @roselily2006 @max-afton @abe-the-detective-blog @floating-above-sea-level @madhare051

[kiankiwi]

This is my first request ever so I’m sorry if it’s not making sense or whatever lol but could you do one where Elvis is teaching his little (girl please) how to ride a bike or something along those lines and she falls and gets hurt? Include Jerry please and all the pet names 🥰 thank you so much!! I love your fics and imagines!!

"Yeah baby, go go go!" Elvis screamed as he watched his daughter, Molly who just this morning requested Elvis take off her training wheels and teach her how to ride her bike like all the big girls in her class. Elvis couldn't say no to that! He even had Jerry there filming to make sure they documented this Big Girl milestone.

So the father spent the next two hours balancing her on her bike while Uncle Jerry filmed as she learned to pedal and then as she got better at that, he pushed her ahead and he ran behind her.

Molly was doing really well if Elvis did say so himself. Until she attempted to speed up and forgot how to stop. "Daddy!" She screamed, realizing she was heading straight for a big bush. "You gotta stop baby!" "I-" She was cut off just as she slammed her bike against the house and fell right into the bush. "Oooh shit!" Elvis cringed. Jerry sprang into action and put the camera down and both men ran toward the crying girl.

Elvis got to Molly first. "Okay, okay, can daddy see darlin'? Oooh yeah you're alright. It's all okay." She was wailing even though all Elvis could see was just a little blood and a scrape on her knee. "Oh it's okay, it's not to bad baby, just a little scrape." Elvis hugged her while Jerry sat in front of her and checked out her injury. Molly more scared than hurt screeched when Jerry tried to see if she got any rocks in her open scrape. "No touchy please! Owie!" Jerry immediately put his hands up. "Okay okay, I'm sorry I won't touch lovey. Can we take you inside and get you fixed up?"

Molly tried to act as brave as she could and wiped at her eyes. "Yes please." Elvis picked her up in a bridal carry and carried her into the house and into the downstairs bathroom. Elvis sat her on the counter of the bathroom and she smiled. "I feel so tall daddy!" She said. "You are so big baby!" Elvis smiled and booped her nose, happy she was a bit distracted.

Jerry turned the sink on and wet a hand towel. "Alright, you little miss are gonna be just fine but this may sting just a little bit. Can you hug daddy really tight?" She nodded and pushed her face into her daddy's chest. "Oooh you're so strong baby!" Elvis praised as Jerry wet her knee, cleaning up the blood and dirt.

"OWIE!" Molly yelled, her little voice still muffled in her daddy's chest. "I know sweetheart. Almost done, almost done!" Jerry said as he washed off her knee.

"Okay honey, which bandaid do you want, Peppa Pig or Strawberry Shortcake?" Elvis asked. Molly came out of her daddy's shirt to inspect her options.

"Peppa..." She whimpers. "Good choice love!" Jerry said as he opened the bandaid and put it on her scrape.

"There you go baby! You were so brave!" Elvis exclaimed as he picked Molly up and bounced her in his arm a bit. "I did very good job!" She yelled, giggling. "Yes! You did!" Jerry and Elvis confirmed.

**

there we go! I tried to put some pet names everywhere I could! I hope you liked it! I love some dad elvis!

@yumm1-yuk1 @elvisthesillygoose @mooodyblue @arianatheangel-girl @vintagepresley @sillybookmarks

[where-dreamers-go]

“Scattered Emotions” Dick Grayson x Reader

(A/N: A Part two for “Emotions Read” soulmate au where we jump back in to Reader and Dick’s new relationship and see what changes and reactions are happening. Their relationship is platonic—they’re still becoming friends! 1960s Robin time!

Warnings: Reader has social anxiety. Minor angst. Use of (Y/N).

Word Count: 5,126 words)

~~~

A sunny morning at the stately Wayne Manor and all was calm. In the main sitting room, Bruce Wayne continued reading the weekend newspaper as his youthful ward and yourself pushed through homework.

Sitting beside your soulmate on a Saturday morning was something you wanted to get used to. Truly. Homework being included wasn’t ideal, but it wasn’t terrible. It would be completed. Plus you had good company.

Two weeks since the baseball game. Two lives learning to intertwine. Two very studious people.

Even though you went to separate schools, subjects were no different. Algebra was still algebra. Languages still had many verbs to memorize. Although you both had teachers who had differing teaching techniques. That came in handy.

I’ve been here twice before now and I’ll count Mister Wayne was a teacher, you thought. He’s like an encyclopedia. In the best way. And he’s turning Dick into one.

Jotting down another answer for your science homework gave a little boost to your confidence. There was no rush to finish. No guardian eager to do more than sit around.

You felt comfortable in the Wayne Manor. They welcomed you with bright smiles and warm greetings. Pressure to start random conversations didn’t exist. You didn’t have to put on a fake smile or hide your amusement. It was wonderful.

Beside you, Dick knocked your knee with his as he hid a smile in a textbook.

Goof.

Your happy mood was not a mystery to him. Never. He could do something about it now that you knew one another. Many possibilities.

Discreetly, you tilted your wrist back and poked his arm with the eraser of your pencil. Only once.

You both brought out a playful side when in the other’s presence. Refreshing and incredibly fun.

Moments and feelings you wanted played over and over in your mind. Mainly fun ones. It did make you wonder about his average days. You wanted to know if Dick always did his school work in that room. Was he always in such a good mood? A day to see him laughing at your stories even if it was all true and not too exciting would lighten your day’s stresses, surely. What would you two do two months in the future?

Time had not sped by since officially meeting your soulmate. There was time to process the news. But there wasn’t enough hours in a day to speak to one another. It was nice still. Lovely, even. You wouldn’t change any of it. You were both having fun and happy to know the other. It didn’t matter what activity you were doing—usually school related so far.

You hoped it would last. Naturally and genuinely, you wanted the connection to be real.

A firm blink of your eyes and you refocused.

Everything’s fine. You thought, considering yourself silly for a moment. We’re the only soulmates I know. It’s fine. Truly fine. And he’s safe and doing fairly well. Really well. Mister student council. Impressive and busy. How’s he find time to sleep?

It was a wonder Mister Wayne and your guardian could schedule study sessions on the weekend. It would not be every weekend nor a random weekday. Everyone was busy.

That didn’t mean you hadn’t crossed your fingers.

Over to your right, Dick progressed to the next algebra problem. Dark eyebrows pinched together as he surveyed his options.

He might fight off ‘x’ before he finds it, you thought, amused. Or—wait. No. He still has to—it’s after—

“Holy homework,” Dick murmured.

Leaning closer, you read over the problem from the textbook. Your cheek almost touching his shoulder.

“Hmmm.”

“Yeah. ‘Hmmm” is right.” He sighed.

“Well, hold on a second. Wait.”

Starting with the first step, you checked over his work. You backtracked near the end. Double-checking where he had stopped.

“Oh.” You pointed to his paper. “You were suppose to subtract two from both sides.”

“Gosh, (Y/N).” Dick sat back against the couch cushion. “I should have remembered that.”

“Hey,” you said softly. “We’re still learning. That’s one of the purposes of school.”

“They’re right, Dick.” Mister Wayne added in from behind the newspaper. “Learning takes time and commitment. Forming a well-rounded education is a key stepping stone into becoming a contributing member to society.”

Wow.

“So true.” Dick nodded.

“That should be on a poster in school,” you announced, completely serious.

Your soulmate smiled as Mister Wayne hid his expression behind paper.

Does he always speak like this? Gosh. Was he an inspirational speaker for fun? And Dick is hearing this at home. Explains a bit.

Your guardian never gave life advice like that. Then again, they cringed any time you mentioned schoolwork. You guessed they didn’t have the best memories in association.

Before getting back to the work at hand, you glanced over to Dick once more. He took notice.

“I got ‘x’ equals four.” He turned the paper for you to see.

“Nicely done.”

His lips upturned happily. So proud and charming.

“I can make you a copy of my notes, if you’d like? I put examples.”

“Really? Oh…you don’t have to.”

“I want to. If it’d help.” You bent the corners of your paper.

“That’d be great. Thank you.”

Swirls of leaping warmth grabbed your attention. His gratefulness expressed in more than words.

It gave a little tug to your heart.

“Of course.” You smiled and pulled your textbook a closer on your lap. Eyes only glancing. You fiddled with your pencil. Anything to get back to the task at hand lest thoughts of his smile claimed your concentration.

It’s just notes. You thought and attempted reading over a question. Again.

Borrowing school notes. Giving notes to someone? It was an offer you had never given your school friends. Not once. Then again, they only ever complained or never discussed homework at all. You couldn’t blame them. Schoolwork wasn’t a fun topic. It was more tiring than anything. But Dick…was alright with it, fine even.

Dick could talk about school with light in his eyes. I just…it just is.

Not to admit that you saw a pattern, but it did appear that you spent more time with education than free time in other activities. Did you have much choice? Kind of. No wonder your guardian was just glad you were out of your room and socializing. Although, they were very extroverted themselves. So you saw why they pushed for you to do the same.

Or they’re bored. But it does go against the ‘do well in school’ household rule. Or not? You thought. Both can exits. Like mammals that can live in water and breathe air. Birds that can fly and sim. Of course penguins are among the exception.

You blinked twice.

Why am I thinking about penguins?

In one movement, you sunk back into the couch.

How did I even get there? The next question is about biomes.

Dick shifted beside you.

All it took was one look and you remembered.

The consistently bright and sweet smile of his.

What made his so different? Surely being soulmates had no effect. It was an expression.

No wonder his apology that day I came over worked so well.

Lost in thought, you hadn’t noticed Alfred walk in.

“It’s the phone, sir.” Alfred announced.

Dick leapt to his feet, excitement rapidly radiating from him. It all but startled you. His textbook discarded to the coffee table.

Alfred proceeded to whisper something to Mister Wayne.

Hesitation hit Dick’s posture as he went to turn in your direction. He wouldn’t meet your curious gaze.

What could get him so excited about a call?

Mister Wayne stood up. Professionalism coating his demeanor.

“It’s an old college chum of mine. He’s in town for a short time. He’s invited me to look over his photography portfolio of his last trip to Europe.” He looked to his ward. “Dick, this could be an excellent opportunity for you to experience other forms of art.”

“Oh.” He glanced to Alfred.

“Please forgive us for the sudden change of plan,” Mister Wayne apologized.

“That’s perfectly alright, Mister Wayne.” You smiled Kindly and started collecting your belongings. “I have some things to take care of at home.”

Stepping forward, Alfred said, “I would gladly drive you home.”

“Thank you, Al—Oh! Before I forget.” You took out a book from your bag and offered it to Dick. “The one you talked about the other week.”

“Gosh, (Y/N). You remembered?”

“Of course. You can borrow it if you’d like.”

“Thanks.” He grabbed the book. “Is it alright if I call you later?”

“Sure.”

“Great!” Dick hurried out of the room followed by Mister Wayne.

You stood there grinning to yourself as you felt your soulmate’s expanding excitement, but there was an unexpected uneasiness lurking. Partially odd for him. You reasoned it was the sudden end of your visit and decided it best not to dwell on it. He was still happy.

“He really loves learning new things, doesn’t he, Alfred?”

“Indeed.”

✧ ✧ ✧

A tall cave ceiling and expansive area of incredible technology lay ready. In the center: the Batmobile.

Robin slid down his designated Batpole. Landing softly, he exhaled. He felt a bit torn. The further he moved to his destination, the more he noticed.

Jumping into the Batmobile gave him a thrill and a sense of duty. A routine. Ready to help and solve a case. To bring justice to Gotham City.

Not a word was spoken as the engine roared. It was time to be the dynamic duo.

Giving an excuse in order to head over to check out brewing trouble wasn’t new. However, lying to you gave a nasty twist in his stomach worse than lying to his aunt. It was so much harder. He knew he should have better prepared for it. What they did was for your safety as well. He would have to be grateful that he didn’t feel distaste, anger, or annoyance from you after he left. That gave him room for relief.

They really meant it was alright.

Speeding down winding roads, the Batmobile gave Robin time to reflect and think.

Study sessions were becoming regular, but how many would be interrupted?

He wanted your blooming relationship to be smooth. No complications to distance you two. He had barely known you a month, he didn’t want to chance spoiling it. He liked you. Everything he knew thus far intrigued him. From your study habits to your taste in music, there was much to know.

Dick was thrilled to have found his person who he’d share his inner most thoughts with. All considering they sensed each other’s feelings, he figured they could share more if they were each comfortable. He didn’t want to hide everything of himself.

It’s different with them around, he thought. Even Aunt Harriet was thrilled to see me with a friend over, but she’s wanting to know more about them. I can’t blame her. So do I.

Taking a glance to his left, Robin saw Batman’s focused expression. More serious than earlier. No newspaper in sight.

Bruce was happy to schedule study dates, er, hours. Robin leaned into his seat more. (Y/N) seems to like it.

Education was important. Bruce wasn’t about to let either one of the young soulmates forget that nor let their habits drop. He basically welcomed you to the household.

Even Alfred was delighted to see you in Dick’s life and in the manor. You brought a unique light of your own; as he told Dick.

The youth felt a giddiness just thinking about it all. What happened was real. He was lucky to have noticed your emotions as he first saw you. Not everyone could interpret in the moment. Perhaps it was due to the experience he gained as Robin.

His life held growing responsibilities and learning opportunities. It was the secret ones that made him worry about you.

Being Robin meant protecting.

He did not want to burden you with knowing. Having you worry or at risk for knowing he was Robin was not something he was willing to live out.

Even if it meant pushing down an emotion, he couldn’t let you know his hero identity.

✧ ✧ ✧

Midday light struck you as you exited a local bookstore. Shielding your eyes with one hand, you held a bag of books. Treats you were willing to share. Dick had recommended one of them some time ago.

Adjusting to the light took a minute. Thankfully the sidewalk wasn’t busy.

I didn’t mean to spend more than an hour, you thought. Time flies when you’re absorbed in finding good reads. And when I’m not paying attention.

You dodged a woman’s purse and picked a direction.

Home for lunch. I told Alfred I would.

“Oh.” You stopped in your tracks.

There, parked by the sidewalk was the Batmobile. No hero in sight. A variety of citizens stood by the vehicle, curious. Amazed.

Guess I’ll hear about it on the news later.

You took a step to the side in hopes of navigating around the people. Their distraction left them blocking a majority of the sidewalk.

Your mind was apparently your distraction.

A hand touched your shoulder. A quick prevention from bumping into one another. A green glove.

“Sorry—.” Words were cut short as the young man looked at you.

The absolute surprise in his blue eyes matched the sharpness coming from your soulmate.

He froze.

No breath came from you and no words for that matter.

The Boy Wonder was staring at you and you at him. An unlikely meeting.

“Robin.” Batman’s voice tore through the thick confounding moment.

Cape billowing behind him, Robin bounded off towards the Batmobile.

You blinked as the black vehicle raced away.

“What the heck just happened?”

No, no. No, no, no. Not real.

Your mind went full throttle with connecting the dots.

Same hair style. Eyes. His voice. Just a word. Holy—

You weren’t sure you were ready for that ride of information.

A secret! You thought and hurried in the direction of home. No one knows Batman and Robin’s identities. No one is suppose to! It protected them. Their loved ones. The mystery brought fear to criminal minds. They. Are. Heroes. Fighting crime! They’ve been against the Penguin!

Walking faster, your emotions overpowered those you sensed from your soulmate. Heart pounding in your ears the whole way.

Please let me be imagining things. Please.

✧ ✧ ✧

Speeding back to the Batcave to analyze a clue, Batman had his hands full.

“Deep, slow breaths, Robin.”

The youth’s grip on the windshield and seat was concerning.

“Focus on a ten count. Breath.”

The thumping of Robin’s heart and the whoosh of wind battered his eardrums.

…seven, Robin counted and stared at the road ahead. He could hardly hear his own thoughts.

He closed his eyes and all he saw was you. Wide eyes seeing straight through his mask.

Taking in a sharp breath, he restarted his slow breathing. Concentration for the case felt miles away. Robin placed a hand on his abdomen.

It’s like vines are coiling my insides—with thorns. I can breathe, but…

“I’m worried, Batman.” He let his gaze roam all of the buttons and switches.

“I know, old chum. I know.”

Robin held on through the ride. On the inside, under the mask, Dick Grayson’s fears were highlighted by his soulmate’s emotions. Shock, anxiety, and panic all mixing together with barely a filter into him.

Breathe, (Y/N), please.

✧ ✧ ✧

Hours later, a late afternoon snack was well deserved. Being home the whole afternoon gave you ample time to pace and stare at the wall to collect your thoughts. And eat. All after hiding in your room for a couple hours with the music blasting louder than your thoughts.

I’m ready to sleep, you thought. I must’ve sent Dick a storm of emotions. Way to go.

Sipping on some water, you glanced up to your guardian who sat on the adjacent armchair.

“Glad to be home?” You questioned, voice neutral.

“My feet are happy I’m sitting down.”

“I’m sure.”

“Did you have fun today?”

“Uh, yeah.” You thought back to sitting beside Dick and quietly getting each other’s attention. “I finished all of my work too.”

“That’s good.”

And I’m still trying to stop thinking about the high probability of Dick being the Boy Wonder. What am I suppose to do with that? He saw my face. He knows I wasn’t calm.

“You really like visiting the Wayne Manor, don’t you? You’re more eager to go.”

“Yes. They’re really nice.”

“I’ve never seen you take your homework anywhere else.” They laughed, amazed. “Or compliment everything. Can’t say the same about the trip to visit my cousin and you’ve known them for a least ten years.”

“I don’t have much to talk about or do there,” you reasoned.

“True, but you haven’t been to that one friend’s house in months. The tall one. Not the one with ripped jeans. They love having you over.”

You sighed quietly, suppressing a groan.

They keep inviting me over, you thought with a grimace.

Information needing to be told. No time like the present.

“Well. I don’t like going.” You stated flatly. “Every time I went over, their dad interrogated me. He doesn’t think I’m that good. He keeps trying to figure out what’s wrong with me. And he keeps questioning if I ate.” You explained as shortly as possible. “I can’t just sit or have fun. It’s ridiculous.”

Your guardian was silent. Their eyebrows set in a deep frown.

“You don’t ever have to go there again,” they said firmly. They looked at you seriously. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I don’t know…I guess, that’s just how it was and I had to deal with it.”

“Absolutely not. Thinking you’re a bad kid,” they scoffed. “If I see him, I’ll give him a piece of my mind.”

“Yeah. And I’d rather not go, especially now because….uh.” You shut your mouth. Thoughts switching to how that friend in particular was judgmental of others and you did not want them to know about your new friend—your soulmate. “Well, nothing I do there is normal for them.”

And I’d rather them not make outrageous and stupid claims about Dick Grayson. They don’t know him.

You leaned your head on your hand. Completely ready for the day to be over.

In the other seat, your guardian muttered. Spilling out frustration for the other adults from the forefront of their mind.

“It’s no wonder you like visiting the Grayson boy. He’s all smiles when he sees you. Very polite.”

Tiredly, you answered shortly, “Yeah, he is.”

In a final huff, your guardian reached for a snack on the coffee table, however stilled their hand at the sound of the telephone ringing. They sprung up from their seat and headed to answer the call.

You stifled a laugh.

Their demeanor changed, however underneath their light voice answering the phone lay someone ready to start a heated argument.

At least I never have to go to that house again.

“It’s for you.”

What? Why?

The confusion must had shown on your face because they sent you a smirk.

Your heart nearly leapt from your chest.

“Who?”

They only gestured for you to get over there.

Please be Dick Grayson. Please be Dick Grayson. Pl—wait. What would he need to say? No.

Placing the phone on your ear, you focused on one word.

“Hello?”

“(Y/N)? Hi. It’s Dick.”

“Hi.”

“I wanted to apologize again for this morning. I’m sorry we had to end our….time short.”

Standing there at home, you were receiving waves of nerves from him like an incoming tide.

“It’s fine. Really.” You assured him. “Did you like looking at the pictures?”

Because I definitely saw you in a mask.

“I did,” he answered quickly. “How was your day?”

“My day was productive.”

“Productive?”

“I might have spent about an hour or so in a bookstore.”

“Oh.”

A tickle of amusement came from him. Light and airy.

“And I bought a few books and I think you might like one.” You twirled the cord of the phone around your finger. “So I got that too.”

“Thank you. You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Well, I, uh… You know what? How about this? If you won’t read it, I definitely will.”

You heard his light laugh from on the other end.

“Sounds like a good read, uh?”

“I’ll let you judge it for yourself.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

You were more than glad the conversation turned into something more light-hearted. Books were an easy topic. You definitely could not bring yourself to ask him about being Robin. Not even hinting at it. That was not a conversation to have over the phone. Especially with your guardian less than fifteen paces away.

Your grip on the phone relaxed a fraction.

Entertaining him with a story came naturally. For that, you were grateful and relieved. Another tale from school you forgot to mention that morning. One about a cobweb in the back corner of the science classroom where a spider proudly named Jorge lived. Updating Dick on how a student tried feeding the spider, but the teacher stopped them as they were climbing the counter.

Sure, school days could be boring, but you managed to witness a few wild occurrences. It gave Dick something to think about, you were certain. If not, he got a laugh out of the story.

All nerves were forgotten enough to not be felt.

Was it guaranteed that neither of you would ever mention Robin? No.

Could you act regularly while knowing? You hoped so. There were many other things that tended to gain your attention. A few being: new books, possibility of more phone calls with Dick, fresh dessert, and literally knowing your soulmate.

You would always consider yourself lucky in that perspective.

“Hey, Dick?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you for being you.”

✧ ✧ ✧

A cool, cloudless evening settled above the Wayne Manor. Inside, the young ward Dick Grayson sat deep in thought.

Dick hadn’t seen his soulmate in practically a month and found himself missing you more than he anticipated. Calls weren’t quite enough in the two weeks, however he never complained.

Yet his calls did not go unnoticed.

When he and Bruce were out of the house, Aunt Harriet had been asking questions. Alfred had informed him again not too long ago. It was a giant reminder that he held another secret.

Golly, Dick thought.

“Bruce.” He said just above a whisper. Quietly, he watched as the man set down an old volume.

“What is it, Dick?”

“I need to tell Aunt Harriet about (Y/N). I want to tell her, especially now that we’re not busy.”

“It’s your call, Dick. If you’re ready.”

“I am.” He stood up. “Aunt Harriet should know.”

“What should I know?” Aunt Harriet walked into the sitting room.

Her abrupt entrance made even Bruce get to his feet.

“Perhaps you would be more comfortable sitting down.” Bruce said calmly and evenly.

“Oh?” She let her nephew lead her over to the couch. “Is everything alright?” She looked between the two.

“It’s good news.” Dick informed her and sat beside her. “Just…big news.” His hands clenched together.

“Alright.”

“I found my soulmate.”

Her eyes widened.

“It’s (Y/N).”

Aunt Harriet gasped loudly, “Dick Grayson, are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m positive.”

“Oh!” Opening her arms, she brought him into a hug. “Why on earth didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Forgive us, Aunt Harriet,” Bruce explained, “we had to be absolutely sure before telling you.”

“Gracious me.” She softened, emotional. Releasing the boy, she raised a hand to her heart. “I just can’t believe Dick found his soulmate. And at his age!” She hugged him again and squeezed him tight for a moment longer. “And they’re so sweet.”

And a great person. Wonderful! And as nervous as I am about people knowing.

“Aunt Harriet, I need to ask you to please not tell anyone.” Dick held her hands between them. “I’m not ready for more people to know.”

“I won’t tell anyone. Not one.”

Dick allowed himself to fully grin.

“Thank you. It really means a lot to both (Y/N) and I.”

Her smile doubled at that. Consumed by joy. Too soon, her curiosity took over.

“Why haven’t they been around lately? Are they alright?”

“They were studying for a big test,” Dick explained. “They’re fine.”

Disappointment did linger from when you had to turn down an invitation to the manor. Understanding your need to study at home and not with him didn’t take much effort. You couldn’t be together all the time. Dick knew your decision impressed Bruce with your studying.

Aunt Harriet seems to be both disappointed and glad. It’s great. I just want to know how well they did. Dick thought. And see them. It feels like months have gone by. I hope they’re not still troubled after seeing Robin.

A hand patted his own.

He glanced up.

“I am very happy you told me.” Pools of unshed tears shined in his aunt’s eyes. She sighed softly.

One less secret.

Dick sat back against the cushion.

“It’s too bad (Y/N)’s been busy,” said Aunt Harriet.

✧ ✧ ✧

Gotham City illuminated the night.

Comfortable in an armchair, you were smiling to yourself once more from a burst of your soulmate’s joy. You flipped a page in your biology textbook.

Something must be happening, you thought. He’s been in a really good mood for the past couple of hours. Kinda wanna know what it is.

Not too far from where you read, your guardian spoke on the telephone. They had been chatting since some time after dinner.

You were simply glad of your ability to tune them out. Being cooped up in a room with a textbook again wasn’t high on your to-do list. You’d erase it if it was. You had plenty of that in the past two weeks.

Knocking on the front door startled you.

Holy heart palpitations.

Setting the textbook aside, you headed to check it out. Quietly of course. It was an unexpected guest after all.

You peeked through the peephole and saw your well-dressed soulmate.

Dick!

Unlocking the bolt quickly, you swung open the door.

Standing in cleanly pressed clothes was Dick Grayson. No mask or cape to hide himself. Only an unabashed smile.

“Hi?” You could laugh at how happy you were to see him.

“Hi.” He beamed, his expression brighter with each second he looked at you.

Moving aside, you gestured him inside.

He held up a book after you closed the door.

“You’re returning the book you borrowed?”

“Yes.”

“After eight o’ clock at night?” A small laugh weaved into your question. “There wasn’t any rush.”

“I know.”

Taking a moment to review his surroundings, Dick asked, “Where do you keep your books?”

Right! First visit. And he’s alone? Wait. Why’s he alone?

Dick held the book in front of himself patiently. Always so patient with you.

“Over here.”

You walked him passed your guardian who waved and into a small room. Two bookcases, art on the walls, and a desk were the main decorations in the room.

Is he alright? He must be fine. He’s been nothing but happy. You thought as you stood by the desk.

As if on cue, his voice grabbed your attention.

“Do you spend a lot of time in here?” He asked and handed you the book.

“I’ve basically taken claim over the desk on weekdays.” You set the book down.

That incredibly charming and contagious smile of his appeared. Warm and genuine.

Why’s his smile so distracting? It’s kind of unfair. I have questions!

“You came all this way to return a book?”

“Yes and to tell you something.”

“Yeah?”

Color me intrigued. Did he set a record at school?

“It’s nothing bad,” he said. “I promise.”

“I trust you. Now, come on. What is it? You’ve been on cloud nine for hours. I’m curious.”

“Oh. Right.” Dick’s smile turned sheepish. “Today I told Aunt Harriet about us being soulmates. I hope that’s alright. She was excited and asking where you’ve been.”

“She was excited?”

“She likes you.” He reassured you. “I asked her not to tell anyone and she promised.”

Relief flooded you like a warm bath.

“Aunt Harriet was talking about you through most of dinner.”

“Oh boy.”

“She likes having you around too.”

“Too?”

“Everyone does.”

Oh-kay. That’s a lot. Good though.

You ducked your head for a moment to collect yourself.

“I guess I’ll have to go over soon.”

Each ounce of Dick’s joy passed through to you immediately.

“I hope so.”

“We’ll figure something out.”

Almost too quickly, your thoughts roamed back to your guardian. They loved how you were spending time at the Wayne Manor. Going to be with anyone instead of being by yourself made them proud. There was just something bothering you. The unknown.

“I still haven’t told them,” you announced and gestured towards the door. “I just…the time’s never right.”

“I understand.”

“Thank you…for the hundredth time,” you murmured, “for understanding.”

“We don’t have to rush. We agreed on that. Tell them when you feel ready.”

You nodded.

He’s right. It’s fine. I can take my time telling them and he—goodness—he doesn’t have to tell me anything about running around in a cape. I can barely watch the news. He’s out there.

“(Y/N)?”

Dick gave you a concerned look.

Exhaling, you calmed yourself and stepped into his space. Without a word or sound, you hugged him tightly. He returned the gesture tenfold. Each of you pouring your relief into one another.

It was the first hug you two shared.

Time ticked away; yet neither of you were willing to let go. Not yet.

Every day you were reminded of the other. Emotions were never silent for long. Each morning was a healthy reminder that the other was there, somewhere. A friend and teammate in life no matter how it was navigated.

You didn’t have to be alone. Dick wasn’t a stranger. All could be as you two wished in your little corner of the world.

Neither of you had a word to say as you walked him to the front door. The door was left ajar.

Taking a step forward, you pressed a kiss to his cheek. A soft silky feeling filled your chest, like it didn’t need any more than what it was. It could exist without words. A soothing nature keeping all safe and unhidden.

“Goodnight, Dick.”

“Goodnight, (Y/N),” he said softly. A tender look in his eyes.

Holy butterflies.

(If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful.

~~~

Part 3 --> "Emotions Ignite"

~~~

coffee

Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~~~~

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[valentinsylve]

Planners and Pantsers can be Friends

The permission I have been giving myself to back out of plans if I'm not feeling up to things is all well and good; but I had a recent adjustment to the way I approach that, which allows me to be kind to myself and also kind to others.

Here's the pattern I'd developed: The closer a friend was and the less "obligatory" the gathering was, the more I felt OK backing out at the last minute. You know, that text that says "I know we were going to hang out 15 minutes from now but I'm not up to it, sorry, love you" Because work is an obligation and friendship is cake, right?

Anyway, back in September, one of my closest local friends finally texted me with a sincere message asking me to please knock that off. He told me that every time I backed out on plans at the last minute, it hurt his feelings and made me wonder if I was someone he could rely on to be there for him. He was telling me how my behavior pattern made him feel sad and unimportant. He added, "I don't want you to force yourself to go out if you feel like shit, but if you aren't sure you are going to be able to go, I would rather you simply say No when I ask."

What's so important is that this was NOT a guilt trip! This was a really great example of how to confront a friend in good faith about something they do which hurts you. He kept it about his feelings, and not accusing me of being inherently flaky or cruel. I took it to heart, sat quietly with my defensive impulses before responding, and then made it a priority to be more considerate.

I started out by trying to overcompensate, of course. I took a long car ride to meet him at the club (where I live, there is no Club). I had been fighting off some sort of migraine situation, but I went anyway, making sure to eat, hydrate, and take my meds first (they don't make me sleepy). I had a great time for about 45 minutes. Danced, had one drink, kissed a cute girl, enjoyed some drag performances. Then I threw up in the bathroom and had to go home! So. Yeah. Don't force yourself to go when you feel like shit, he had said, and welp!

So we've been through a lot since then, me having a family emergency, him coping with his mother's end of life with all the practicalities and emotional excavation that entails. Even though we were both pretty wiped, we still went on the little vacation we'd been planning for the whole year. He did give me the option to back out the week before, which was gentle. But we went and it was wonderful! We were gentle with ourselves and each other, I only had a couple small meltdowns, we went at a pace which worked for both of us. The upshot is we both got energized and learned that we travel well together. Our friendship is stronger than ever.

So this week, he'd asked me impromptu if I wanted to get dinner after he finished an appointment near my place. I said it sounded good and I'd love to see him, but I didn't want to make a false promise, because it was going to be a busy day of work and errands. I asked if it would be OK for me to say "Not sure right now, but if I decide I can go, I will text you at 6:30 PM." That would be the time his appointment was over, so if he didn't see my message he'd know I wasn't available and he could go catch his bus home or do whatever he wanted without me. He said that sounded like a fine way to do it. So, when I actually got home at 6:55, I texted him saying I'd just gotten in the door, hoped his appointment had gone well, and hoped he would have a lovely evening. He was on the bus and delighted to hear from me even if we hadn't hung out. No one was stressed, no one was hurt.

Friendship is not a job, but it does require "work" in the form of being reliable and thoughtful. Everything we care about should be treated with active care. Friends who support our needs are treasure. I should treat them as kindly as they treat me, with respect for how we differ. Showing up for each other is a process of checking in and understanding limits with appreciation and respect, and being true. This is how we can best be free.