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batsandbugs · 4 years

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Help (I Need Somebody) Help

AN:Hey everyone! Hope you’re doing well, here’s chapter two of my wrong number daminette AU. I had a lot of fun with this, enjoy!

Chapter 2

Damian held back an unimpressed sigh when two goons rushed him. Their stances were off balance, and he could smell the stench of alcohol wafting off of them. A low sweep to their legs had both tumbling to the ground. If he had a dime for every lowbrow thug who thought they had a chance at beating him, he’d be richer than his father twice over.

It wasn’t his fault the brain lacking buffoons hadn’t figured out they had a snowball’s chance in hell to beat him in the seven years he lived here. Damian certainly wasn’t going to be the one to tell them different now. He needed some sort of stress relief after Alfred banned swearing in the house.

He flipped another grunt over his shoulders, an audible crack of a broken bone soon followed.

His mask hid a glint of amusement that was surely gleaming in his eyes, but he kept his face an annoyed scowl. The last thing he needed was word getting back to his father for finding pleasure in the suffering of others. Even if the whole reason they were out tonight, punching up a contingent of near brain-dead loons, was to stop a sex trafficking ring. It was times like this where he seriously considered the validity of his father’s no-killing rule; surely some scum wouldn’t be missed.

He whipped around to punch another man, nearly a foot taller than him and thrice as wide, across the face. Blood spurted from the thug’s nose as the behemoth fell to the ground. Good. Damian jumped back and flipped himself over to roundhouse kick another goon. Another satisfying crack, and the last of them had finally fallen to his superior skills.

Easy.

He waited for the warm glow of satisfaction after a fight well fought, but all he received was the familiar rush of adrenaline and the delicious burn of his muscles tensing for another go.

Unfortunately, all too easy.

Damian didn’t sigh, he was too disciplined for that, but the low-level grumbling in his mind, and the displeased sneer were all too indicative of his problem.

He was utterly unchallenged.

It wasn’t that he enjoyed getting beat to hell and back. He wasn’t a masochist (although, the same could not be said for the rest of his family, if anyone asked him (which, of course, they didn’t)). It was just… after three years with the Titans, constantly stretching to prove himself, pushing his abilities to keep up with those endowed with advantages he simply didn’t have, Gotham felt… lacking in comparison.

And with the Titans all but formally disbanded, Gotham was all he had.

Well… that wasn’t entirely true. He could follow Cyborg and Blue Beetle and join the Justice League. He had enough blackmail material on all the core members needed to vote him in if his father protested. It would be a welcome change; higher level threats and off world missions, if only there wasn’t the pesky problem of dealing with other heroes.

He would be the first to admit that in his younger teenage years his anti-socialness was a bit… problematic, but he’d grown past that. Socializing with the Titans had been difficult at first, but by the end he could say he was more than an acquaintance with them – even if he wouldn’t go so far as to call all of them friends. But even if he had gotten used to them, it still took three years. At least in Gotham his potential partners were all known quantities. Even if he disliked half of them on his good days.

“Robin, do you read?” called his father on the comms. He shook away his distracting maudlin thoughts.

He raised a hand to his comm. “All clear southside Batman, making my way to the roof.”

“Negative, Hood is already there. Red Robin needs help releasing the captives – cops will be here in fifteen.”

Damian bit back an irritated sigh. “I’ll be of more use-”

“Robin, that’s an order.”

The words wrapped around him, restricting in their resoluteness. He glared down at the unconscious thug and gave a swift kick to the side resulting in an incoherent groan. Gritting his teeth, he muttered, “Yes, Batman.”

His comm feed dropped off.

The resulting string of swear words he uttered in Arabic would have cost him two hundred dollars in the swear jar. Damian just didn’t give enough of a fuck to bring himself to care.

-0o0-

Damian didn’t slam his bedroom door shut, but it was a close thing.

Between avoiding his father, deflecting the inane chatter of his siblings, and dealing with the GCPD, all of whom were either corrupt, uncaring, or ridiculously overworked, he had been ready stab someone, repeatedly, consequences be damned.

And that discounted dealing with the inconsolable sobbing women they rescued from the shipping containers. The sight of dozens of girls packed together like cargo, most of them his age, if not younger, would be enough to throw even the most experienced off their game.

Damian lived through some truly horrid things growing up in the League. He killed a grown man before he lost his first baby tooth. Suffered through endless hours of training with painful consequences upon any sign of failure. He had been beaten, starved, tortured, and pushed to the extremes of what a child could endure, but the utter horror and disgust he was faced with tonight, well…

At least the suffering he’d endured had a point.

Rubbing a towel through his still damp hair, he collapsed on top of his bed with an exhausted groan. The shower did little in relaxing his tensed muscles, his bed a welcome retreat after being on his feet for hours. Reaching out blindly he grabbed his phone off his bedside table. Going to bed would be the better choice, but it was Saturday, so he didn’t really give a damn.

His phone flicked on and he was taken aback by the notification awaiting him.

40 unread messages

He raised an eyebrow. That was odd. Not completely impossible, but odd. He did have acquaintances who would text him, Jon and Garfield came to mind, but it would be one or two messages at the most. Maybe a missed call if it was something extremely important.

He unlocked his phone.

Tapping on his messaging app, he saw that the messages all came from an unknown number.

That raised even more concerns, considering anyone who had this number were people he should already have programed into his contacts.

This put Damian’s suspicions on high alert.

Cautiously tapping on the text stream, he began reading.

- As long as you’re not an evil villain running around in a purple suit or a bitchy Italian transfer student I figure you won’t care about what I have to say

- I haven’t slept in two days. My brain is buzzing. And between my insomnia and four years of repressed anger generated by existing in the same city as an emotional terrorist who uses magical butterflies to turn distressed people into monsters, I might come off a bit incoherent

Before Damian could stop it, a small laugh of amusement passed his lips. This person was either really high, or entirely serious.

His finger hovered over the delete button. This had nothing to do with him. The person admitted they were texting a random number to blow off steam. He should just let it go and get some sleep.

But despite the long drive home, the debriefing, and a shower, the adrenaline hadn’t left his system yet. And the sight of those women in the container wasn’t going to leave his brain for a while. Sleep wouldn’t be coming for a long time yet. Whoever this was, sounded, if not entirely sane, at least somewhat amusing.

Looking back on it, Damian didn’t know what the influencing factor that made him read further. It could have been amusement, or curiosity. It could have been sleep deprivation. It could have been the promise of distraction. It could all of those or none of those, or any combination thereof.

Or it could have been luck.

Pulling up the knitted blanket from the end of his bed, he settled in against his covers, and began to read.

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sharkbait77 · 3 years

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The Singer (Marcus Pike x f!reader)

Chapter Three

Warnings: Mention of food/alcohol, language, pure fluffy fluffiness (I'm such a softie I'm sorry 😭)

W/C: 4.2k

A/N: Notes at the bottom! And I'm running out of gifs to use of scruffy faced Marcus. I'm gonna have to shave him soon 👀 I hope you enjoy our soft boi in this chapter! 🥰

Just as a reference if you need help understanding the different formats:

«Phone conversation on their end»

Thoughts

Text messages

Song mentioned:

Chapter Two | Chapter Four

The Singer Masterlist

Gif by me! Yes it's Teresa but it still fits & I only care that it's his hand lol

«Oh my god, I'm melting!» Celina yells in her phone enthusiastically. You giggle as you wait for her eagerness to calm down.

You had barely taken your shoes and jacket off after getting inside your apartment when you immediately dialed up Celina's number to tell her about the night. You feel like you're having an out of body experience. Sure, your heart is still guarded and unfortunately, you'll most likely have your doubts throughout the relationship, but you truly feel like this could go somewhere. You want to give yourself that chance and allow Marcus to help heal your heart, maybe doing the same for him in return.

"So he's picking me up on Saturday and I'm freaking out a little," you say and chew on the skin around your nail beds.

«Why? Don't be! Just treat it like how you did tonight!» She encourages.

"But it's a legitimate date this time, I have to do my hair and makeup perfectly and find the perfect outfit and-"

«Girl, have you seen your closet? You have nothing but perfect outfits!» She teases and you chuckle, lowering your fingers from your mouth.

«You don't need to try to be perfect hun, just be yourself! Be the girl he has already seen in front of him.» You smile at her heartfelt words. «I bet he's already in love with you!»

"Okay, you're not helping!" You laugh, placing your hand on your forehead. "I'll talk to you later, I'm going to try and get some sleep. I'll probably be calling you on Saturday so I can freak out some more."

You say your goodbyes and hang up, sinking yourself into your couch and smiling widely. Your head is buzzing from a sugar rush, but you can't tell if it's because of the pancakes or because of Marcus. You walk to the kitchen to make some sleepytime tea, hoping it'll relax your nerves enough for you to get some shut eye.

* * * *

You take a shower and climb into your comfy pajamas and the tea works its magic as you relax on your plush bed, surrounding yourself with pillows and your soft blanket enveloping you in warmth. Your eyes get heavy and you feel yourself on the brink of sleep when you hear your phone vibrate on the nightstand. You try to ignore it, but it vibrates again and you figure it's Celina probably sending you a funny video. Your curiosity gets the better of you and you reach over to grab your phone, the brightness from the screen stinging your eyes from the time they had adjusted to the darkness. You blink a few times until you can see the screen clearly.

555-9057: Hi Dulce :)

555-9057: Made it home. I had a great time :)

You bite your lip and smile at the messages on your lock screen, heat flashing through your head seeing him call you the nickname you gave yourself in his phone. And just like that, you're wide awake again. You unlock your phone and before you can type a reply, he sends another message.

555-9057: It's Marcus btw

Marcus groans to himself as he sends that last message. What the hell was that? Of course she knows it's you. Dumbass. He watches the screen and holds his breath when he sees the text bubbles pop up and he waits nervously for your reply.

Dulce💋: I'm glad you specified! Right after you dropped me off another guy took me out for dulce de leche pancakes and I also penned myself as Dulce in his phone 🤭

He chuckles out loud in the quiet atmosphere of his apartment, the sound bouncing against the walls and reverberating around the living room. Damn, she's good.

555-9057: Okay okay you got me, don't have to be so mean :P

So he's a classic emoji kind of guy, you smile as you make a note and file it in the little 'Marcus Pike' folder in your brain. You hit his phone number and tap the plus symbol to make a new contact in your phone. For some reason, you find yourself struggling as you try to figure out what to put his contact name as.

Agent Cutie

Nope, delete.

Agent Pike

What are you, his secretary? Delete delete.

Marcus

Should I put an emoji? Which one? Can't be a heart. You are seriously overthinking this.

Marcus Pike

Yeah, okay. I guess.

Me: Why did it take so long to get home? Do you live far?

Marcus Pike: It was about 30 min from your place :) not too bad

Thirty minutes?! Great, now I feel bad.

Dulce💋: Wth if I had known I wouldn't have let you drop me off! 🙄

Me: Don't worry about it! I was more than happy to ;)

Shit shit shit I didn't mean the wink! Why are they right next to each other?! Do I say something? Oh god, way to go, you ruined it.

Dulce💋: Then I'll give you gas money!

Marcus takes a breath of relief when he sees that you sidestepped his accidental wink emoji. After he catches his breath, his phone chimes again.

Dulce💋: And I won't take no for an answer 😉

Okay, there's no way she sent that by accident. Is she flirting with me? Do I flirt back? Why are my hands so sweaty?

Dulce💋: It's time for bed, those pancakes made me sleepy 😴 good night Marcus ☺️ See you Saturday!

Marcus smiles to himself and he anticipates seeing you on Saturday. He sends you another text and walks to his restroom to take a quick shower before climbing in bed.

Marcus Pike: Can't wait :) good night!

There's no way you can sleep now, but you said good night for his sake; he had a long day at work, plus he took you out and then had a long drive home. You know he must be tired. Your heart races as you scroll through your short text conversation, rereading the messages and giggling softly.

Did he mean to wink? It was probably an accident, considering he types out emojis instead of using the newer, more convenient ones. You just couldn't help but send one back, though; hiding behind the screen helped you to flirt openly with him. You roll onto your side to face the TV on your dresser, turning on a true crime documentary and letting it eventually lull you to sleep.

* * * *

Saturday comes around quickly, much to your delight, but as you wander around your room looking at the many outfits you laid out on your bed, your dresser, even on your couch, the nerves set in fast. You pray to whoever’s listening that you don’t seize up when Marcus picks you up. Which is in fifteen minutes. You already have your hair and makeup done, all you need is to pick an outfit. Simple in theory. Just pick one! You chew your lip nervously out of habit before stopping as soon as you realize you probably just messed up the red lipstick you had applied earlier.

You rush to the bathroom mirror and sure enough, there's a bare spot on your bottom lip and the lipstick has transferred to your front teeth. You groan in frustration and grab a makeup wipe to carefully remove the ruined lipstick and you brush your teeth again until it's all gone. You reapply the same shade of red, pleasantly surprised with yourself that it came out better than the first time. You take a deep breath and try to calm down, telling yourself that the first outfit you land your eyes on will be the one you wear. You count down from three in your head and enter your bedroom.

Okay, maybe not that one. You decide to close your eyes and try again. When you open your eyes, they land on a different outfit. Not that one either. You sigh harshly through your nose. Why is this so hard? You walk over to your nearly empty closet for the umpteenth time and your eyes catch on to a dress hidden in the corner that you had surprisingly missed before. This one.

It's a spaghetti strapped, black, bodycon dress with a lace overlay, flowers printed on the fabric throughout. It hugs your body in all the right places, reaching down to your knees, and you take a look in the floor length mirror next to your dresser as you put on your black, open-toed heels, smiling brightly as you feel confidence shooting through your veins.

Adrenaline gets mixed in as soon as you hear a knock on your door. Five on the dot. You grab your black cardigan and purse off the couch and open the door, your breath taken away by the handsome man in front of you. He's carrying a box of chocolates and it fumbles in his hands, nearly falling once his wide eyes see you. He looks at you from head to toe, making your heart race as you feel heat rushing over your body in line with his gaze and you shift your weight from side to side anxiously.

"Wow," he says breathlessly, unable to say anything afterwards.

"Wow yourself," you smile, looking over his own outfit: a navy blue suit and a black, button up shirt underneath, paired with black dress shoes. He slicked his hair back and cleaned up his beard slightly. He really is a gorgeous man.

"Uh," he stutters and glances to the box in his unknowingly tight grasp. "These are for you," he smiles shyly as he hands you the chocolates.

"Thank you," you say, giggling at the indents his fingers made on the sides of the box and you turn around to leave them on your entryway table.

You turn back to face him and see his eyes look up quickly and you wonder if you just caught him staring at your bottom. Your suspicion is confirmed when his cheeks flush pink. You laugh softly and he holds his arm out to you.

"Ready?" He asks and you can hear the nervousness in his voice.

You nod and link your arm in his, letting him help you down the stairs. You're starting to love the way his arm hugs yours as you walk and the warmth of his body mixing with yours. Your footsteps even sync up together in a slow cadence. He walks you to his car, letting you hold your weight with his arm as you slowly lower in the seat, your movement restricted by your tight dress and high heels.

You thank him once you're seated, buckling your seatbelt, and he walks to his side, sitting down and starting the car. You notice the radio is on this time, playing at a low volume, and you think to yourself that he probably only forgot to turn it on last time.

The aura is tense in the car, both of your nervous energies dancing in the air together to the music. You try to think of something to say, resorting to looking through your mental file of basic conversation starters. The weather? No, too basic. Say something about the music. No-

"You look really beautiful," Marcus finally breaks the silence. Your head snaps up to look in his direction and you share a smile, thanking him and returning the compliment.

He takes his eyes off the road for a couple of seconds to look at you with a soft smile and turns his attention back to driving straight. He would keep his eyes on you if he could, but he'd rather not get into a car accident and ruin the night. So he just waits patiently until the next moment he can steal a glance. He takes a peek at you while you're stuck at a red light and he sees you picking at your cuticles nervously. He rubs his clammy palm on his pant leg, hoping to dry up any sweat present as much as possible. Before he can think twice about it, he reaches his hand over to grab yours.

Your heart jumps in your throat from the action and you look down in shock at his large hand covering yours completely. The blood rushes to your cheeks; his hand is rough from work, but soft and gentle enough that it's not uncomfortable. And warm. So warm. You stop picking your cuticles immediately, now memorizing the fine wrinkles in his hand and the ridges on his knuckles.

"Are you okay?" He asks, not moving his hand from your lap as he starts driving again.

"Yeah," your voice makes an embarrassing harmony, splitting in two different octaves from disuse. You swallow some saliva to lubricate your vocal cords and try speaking again.

"I'm just a little nervous," you admit.

His hand is still resting on top of yours; you're not sure if you should open your hand up to face your palms together and hold his hand as well. Alas, you take too long to make a decision and he pulls his hand away to grasp the steering wheel, bracing for a left turn.

"Please don't be nervous," he smiles with his pearly white teeth and it only makes you more nervous. How is he this handsome?

"It's just me," he adds as he pulls up to the restaurant, putting the car in park and removing the key from the ignition.

"'Just you'?" You quote him inquisitively. He nods and you shake your head with a small chuckle.

"What?" He chuckles with you.

"It's not 'just you' though, is it?" You reply softly.

You wonder if he's uncertain of himself and his ability to make women — i.e. you — weak in the knees. He seems oblivious to it and it makes him all the more charming to you. You see his eyebrows furrow and before he can ask what you mean, you turn to open the car door.

"Wait," he tells you, rushing out of his seat and over to you to help you out.

You wanted to manage it yourself, but you know you must look ridiculous with how bad you're struggling to get out of the car. He chuckles at the sight once he's on your side and he holds his arm out. You hold onto his forearm tightly and pull yourself upward as he lifts you as well until you're firmly planted on your feet.

"Maybe this dress wasn't a good idea after all," you giggle.

"I think it was," he flirts and you look away as you smile shyly.

You walk together up the steps to the front of the restaurant and Marcus apologizes for not warning you about the stairs. You tell him not to worry and though you can feel the ache in the arches and heels of your feet, you don't complain. He holds the door open for you and you walk in, your eyes instantly catching on the glimmering, crystal chandelier hanging in the waiting area. The lights are dimmed in an amber glow and there are pillars with intricate carvings and vines wrapped around the stone throughout the entirety of the establishment.

You gasp to yourself; this place must be expensive. How did you go from pancakes at grandma's house to a fancy, Italian restaurant like this? Your ears catch the sounds of a violin, but it's too close to just be playing from a speaker. Sure enough, you look further into the restaurant and see a man in a suit playing a violin. A live violinist?! Marcus joins your side again and notices the look of astonishment on your face.

"What's wrong?" He asks and you jerk your head to look at him, not even realizing he was standing next to you.

"Marcus, this looks like it's going to be really expensive."

You whisper in his ear so you don't offend any of the staff members and the height from your heels allows you to reach his head a little better now. The hot breath from your mouth tickles his ear and a bolt of arousal shoots down his spine. He laughs it off and leans his mouth to your ear in return.

"I like to make a fuss," he says, the deep tone of his voice giving you goosebumps. "Don't worry about it," he says in his normal tone as he stands up straight again.

The maître d' greets you two as you walk up to the host stand and Marcus gives the man his name for the reservation. The maître d' informs Marcus the table is not quite ready yet, adding that you're welcome to wait at the bar. Marcus looks at you to get your opinion; you say yes and Marcus lightly places his hand on the middle of your back, guiding you as you walk over to the bar top together. You take a seat in the soft barstool; it's easier to sit on since it's basically at standing height. Marcus removes his hand from your back to take a seat, his fingers gliding against the delicate lace of your dress across your spine and you shudder. Thankfully, it goes unnoticed.

The back of the bar is riddled with an assortment of different liquors, both American and Italian, and they're resting on lit up shelves. You look at the drink menu and your mouth opens in horror at the prices listed. This is definitely too much money. The bartender comes your way and Marcus orders a campari and grapefruit juice, immersing himself fully in the Italian culture. You say you'll stick with water and excuse it as you not feeling like drinking tonight. Marcus doesn't question it further.

The two of you comment on the decor of the restaurant, mainly the paintings hanging on the walls, and you mention that you love the lilies resting in the painted, ceramic vases and Marcus takes note of that fact. A waitress walks up to you and Marcus to let you know your table is ready and he finishes the last of his drink and stands, offering you his hand this time instead of his arm. You smile as you take it, your heart thumping in your chest as you let him guide you while you both follow the waitress.

The restaurant is bustling; heavy sounds of conversation and cutlery clinking on plates as you walk through what seems the entirety of the restaurant until the waitress leads you to a small, private patio. A round table is seated there, covered by a red tablecloth and adorned with a single, tall candlestick, burning a light glow. There's a cylindrical basket full of bread sticks and two water glasses, condensation running along the sides and onto the cloth. Marcus pulls your chair out for you, helping you to sit and scooting you in and sits down across from you. You hang your cardigan and purse on the back of your chair and take the menu the waitress is holding out to you.

You both thank her and she leaves, stating she'll be back soon to take your order. You marvel at the privacy Marcus planned for you two and you take a sip of your ice cold water, reveling in the relief washing through your dry throat. You flip open your menu; the options are minimal and are all expensive. You immediately scan for the cheapest dish: a $30 plate of chicken cacciatore. You feel guilty; you never want Marcus to break his bank trying to take you on a date. You glance at him and wonder why he would do all of this just for you. Did he really think you were that special?

You find yourself missing that little pancake diner and the time you shared there. There, you only felt the budding emotions consistent with a high school crush, but in this moment now, it's real life and mature adult feelings and you feel it much stronger in this environment. Marcus senses your mood change and leans forward to ask if you're okay, but he's interrupted by the waitress. You order the 'cheap' chicken cacciatore and he orders the tajarin al tartufo. Whatever that is.

"Why did you order the cheapest dish?" Marcus asks once the waitress leaves.

"Because I wanted to," you give him a sly smile to convince him otherwise, but he sees right through you, giving you a look of disbelief. You sigh.

"Because Marcus, it's too much money," you say sadly. "I mean, how much was it to get this private patio set up?"

"That's not important to me," he shakes his head. "This is our first proper date and I wanted to make it special."

Damn it. Why is he so thoughtful? And so damn cute?

"It's not that I don't appreciate it, I'm blown away by this, but I'm just... I'm not used to it," you pull your lips into your mouth slightly, mindful of your lipstick.

"Is that why you didn't order a drink?" He asks. You give him a lopsided frown and shrug your shoulders, your expression answering him instead of your words. He sighs and tilts his head to the side.

"I don't want you to worry about how much everything costs when you're with me; let me spoil you. You deserve it."

Let me spoil you. You deserve it. His words float around in your head, your eyes filling with fondness at the thought. You didn't think you deserved to be spoiled; your ex made sure of that much. It's exhilarating to say the least; this man you barely know ready to do anything for you at any time. But you like it, and you think in time, you could learn to love it. Learn to love him. You blink wildly and you inconspicuously shake your head at that last thought.

It was definitely way too soon to be thinking like that and it scared you that it entered your mind at all. It must be the ambiance of the restaurant. You think about how you should protect yourself in case this takes a wrong turn and you debate on placing that in the priority spot in your mind. Marcus can see you fighting your own thoughts and he tries to lighten the mood.

"I also might be trying to impress you for real now," he smiles.

You chuckle and shake your head. Marcus thinks to himself how beautiful you look under the moonlight that's shining through the glass awning above your heads, face lit up by the glowing candle. He can't stop his mouth from saying what he wants to say, not in this romantic atmosphere.

"I think you're a wonderful, beautiful woman and... I really like you," he adds, reaching across the table for your hand and you let him hold it, tangling your fingers with his.

You're positive he can feel your pulse through your fingers or hear your heart pounding, the blood whooshing in your ears muffling any other sounds from coming in. As much as you want to protect yourself, the look in his eyes only draws you in and you can't hide the truth from him or yourself, your confession spoken out loud for the first time for you both.

"I like you, too, Marcus." He smiles happily at you.

There must be something in the water here.

"Do you think it would be okay to keep this up?" He asks, meaning the dates, and you can't stop your head from nodding yes and you give him a sweet smile.

Marcus lets go of your hand, letting his rest in front of him and you take a deep breath, trying to shake your nerves from the exchange that just took place between you. You grab a bread stick and attempt to take a small bite; you and Marcus laugh together as your small bite accidentally turns into a big one, the stick breaking in the wrong place and leaving a large chunk of bread hanging from your mouth. Of course, leave it to something awkward happening to you to break the tension. But anything to see his face come together in joyous laughter.

* * * *

"Thank you again Marcus, that was actually very delicious," you say while Marcus begins the drive back to your apartment. "I see why it was so expensive." He hums in agreement; his smile hasn't left his face since the restaurant.

You listen closely to the new song that comes on the radio, trying to make out the tune until it gets louder and you realize it's "At Last" by Etta James.

"I love this song," you say under your breath. Marcus hears you and turns up the volume slightly, earning a bright smile from you. You look back out the window and sing the lyrics softly.

At last, my love has come along,

My lonely days are over

And life is like a song.

Marcus's heart races as he listens to the lyrics being sung by you and they hit a little too close to his heart. You don't realize at first the meaning behind them, only enjoying singing along.

At last, the skies above are blue

My heart was wrapped up in clover,

The night I looked at you.

You now realize the words are identical to how you feel. You wonder if you're falling too fast for Marcus. This was only your second date and there is still so much to learn about each other. You have a whole past to open up about, which will be a defining moment for your relationship. But as you look over at Marcus and you feel the tender organ in your chest beating fast, you think to yourself that it can't get much better than this. What's the harm in trying?

Chapter Two | Chapter Four

The Singer Masterlist

A/N: Okay just wanted to explain what Marcus ordered if you're interested! *DESCRIPTION OF FOOD/ALCOHOL COMING UP* I'm not an expert so correct me if I'm wrong! According to Google:

Campari is an Italian bitters made of fruit & herbs & you usually mix it with juice or club soda (hardcore Italians drink it straight up) & it's a pre-meal drink

Tajarin al tartufo is an egg pasta, made with more egg whites than traditional egg pastas, & topped with white truffle. Idk it sounded fancy & expensive 😂

Also, here's their outfit inspos! Just a couple of things I described differently like his shirt being black & her dress having lace instead of mesh.

Ofc Marcus in this suit 🥵 I copied the description lol

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#marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike #marcus pike fanfiction #the mentalist #the mentalist fanfiction

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imnotwolverine · 4 years

Text

Nerdflirt

Henry Cavill x reader twoshot (1/2)

Word count: 2.768

Disclaimer: tiny, tiny hint of fluff

Summary: There’s apparently a bit more involved than just paint and innocent flirting, when you meet a stranger on Instagram with a shared hobby.

Find the second part here.

This story is based on a prompt I received from @aestheticqueenb

(Link to my Masterlist)

‘Maybe, you can like…I don’t know…find some new hobby or something?’

Your friend had said it more as an after thought during your Zoom chat, but here you were. Thinking yet again if she was perhaps right. A new hobby. It’s not like you hadn’t tried to find some diversion in these strange times. Like. You had ordered some of these picture paint books for adults since they were all the rage, but you had grown bored of them again.

Heck. You had even asked your boss if you could help him out while stuck at home. But apparently the restaurant business was really on its ass and you’d just have to wait for things to settle down and regulations to become less restricting.

This whole COVID-19 thing had initially seemed like a bit of a fad. Like some sick joke that nobody stopped at the right time. It was just a fever, right? Well, apparently…it wasn’t. You could still remember the moment all too well when you were sent home, told to wait for news. Hours passed. Days passed. Weeks passed. But there was no sign of things soon to improve.

And thus you resorted to adult colouring books and sulking away on your desk chair.

Stretching out you pushed the chair away from your desk, the tiny wheels immediately halting as you bumped against your bed. Oh yes, it was also good to mention you were slowly losing your mind because your studio apartment was SOO friggin’ small you couldn’t stretch as much as a foot without bumping into a piece of furniture.

Not a problem when you have a social life. But very much a problem when you hadn’t. Usually you worked a lot, went out with friends, enjoyed to go for a run. And home? Home was just a conveniently placed bed in the middle of London.

Now, however, it was a constricting prison that seemed to strip away your sanity piece by piece.

As had become second nature by now you opened your phone, fingers automatically refreshing the front news page. Scroll, scroll, scroll. No new news. Then your e-mail. No new e-mails. Then perhaps look for some “inspiration” - whatever you needed that for - on Pinterest? Scroll, scroll, scroll. Okay, no, this is dumb. Going back to the mainscreen your thumb hovered over the Instagram button.

You honestly didn’t like the app much. Fake people. Fake fun lives. It just wasn’t your cuppa tea. And yet you never got so far as deleting it since you did enjoy seeing baby pictures of your baby niece.

Okay, fine, maybe there were some new pictures or something. It wasn’t like you had anything better to do and so you opened the app, only to be confronted with a somewhat confusing image. What’s this? A large pair of hands painting an absolutely tiny polystyrene figurine. Why is this on your timeline? Your eyes gazed up, even more confused when you read the name “Henry Cavill” above it. Pfft. Probably some attention whoring from another bored superstar. You shook your head and scrolled on, eventually giving up again.

You groaned, feeling the abyss of utter boredom suck you in once more, your eyes wandering to the world outside. It was sunny, a spotless blue sky, not a cloud in sight. Hilarious, ain’t it? It’s nice weather out in the UK and guess what? You’re stuck inside because the whole world is in lockdown.

So…now what? You just had lunch, your apartment was pristinely clean and you already went for a run this morning. You sighed and turned your chair back so you could awaken your trusty old friend again. Your laptop. Perhaps Google something random? See what you find? The internet’s your friend, right?

Open. Google.

You bit your lip, thinking of something. Anything. But your mind was a blank.

Hmm. Oh. You know what. Maybe it’d be fun to know what kind of fake nerd Henry Cavill actually was.

You opened Instagram again and, of course, his post was back on the top of the timeline. It was almost too easy. #GamesWorkshop #ProperGeek #Custodes. Hmm, probably one of those three tags were the secret. You decided to enter “custodes”, since it sounded the least familiar and hit enter.

Before long you had dived head first into the miraculous world of Warhammer miniature strategy boardgaming and the most ludicrous, but fascinating lore. There was a medieval variant, a sci-fi variant and some ancient Rome and English civil war stuff. All including a well-thought out background story and even more figurines then you could count. Pretty cool figures too, you thought, haphazardly clicking on “order” while scrolling through one of the webshops.

Like it contained some kind of bomb, the mailman sprinted off, leaving the small package behind while you opened your door. Fuck this corona crisis. You couldn’t even..greet the fucking mailman.

Picking up the package you carefully moved it to your desk. Would they be fragile? How tiny could tiny really be? There was only one way to find out, you decided, picking up a pair of scissors and cutting open the small brown box.

Well. Okay. That’s tiny. Tiny tiny tiny. Perhaps you had been a bit too over enthusiastic about just randomly picking up a new hobby. Like..did you even need like special paint for this? Carefully you placed the kit sheets with the hundreds of tiny pieces in them on your desk and bit your lip, deciding what you’d do next. Tiny heads, guns, wings, all stuck in a meticulously thought out grid. Where to start? Perhaps look for some inspiration? Tips and tricks?

The internet is your friend.

Silly as it was you ended up scrolling through Instagram again, this time on the profile of some “SirEltharin” who posted daily updates on his miniature painting. And just like you, he had bought the Retributor Squad from the Adepta Sororitas, the all-female fighter division that were also known as “The Sisters of Battle”. Just thinking how ridiculous that sounded made you chuckle. Were you a nerd too now? Perhaps.

He just posted something new you noticed.

‘These ladies are hard to tame! Oops, painting accident..’ He posted, along with a picture of some smudged paint on one of the figurines. You chuckled, commenting without much of a second thought.

LadyGrim - ‘Well at least you started..I just can’t get myself to paint :X’ - 1 minute ago SirEltharin - ‘No need to be Grim, good Lady. What’s keeping you from starting?’ - 2 seconds ago

Hmm. He responded immediately. A smile reached the corners of your lips as you shrugged and typed again.

LadyGrim - ‘Painters limbo? No honestly it’s my first set and I’m out of my depth here.’ - 2 minutes ago

SirEltharin - ‘Well if large male hands can do it. Surely a Lady can do it too? ;)’ - 30 seconds ago

LadyGrim - ‘Size can be deceiving.’ - 2 seconds ago

Your eyes rested on the screen for a bit, hoping he’d respond, but eventually giving up. Your eyes turned towards the sheets with the figurine parts on the other side of your desk.

Welp, it’s not like anyone could judge you for trying, right?

You painted that whole day, finding it nerve wrecking and meditative all at the same time. You hadn’t even noticed that it was past dinner time, until your stomach really started to growl with hunger.

After cooking yourself a simple pasta dish you sat back on your desk chair, forking the pasta into your mouth while opening your phone to check on any news updates. No news. Mail. No mail. Pinterest? Skip. Instagram. Heck, why not.

*New message from SirEltharin* Hmm. A private message. You didn’t even know that you could send private messages in Instagram, but alas, perhaps you were just a failed millennial.

SirEltharin - ‘Hey :) Guess what? I totally screwed up that figurine and have to do it all over again. Started any painting yet?’ - 2 hours ago

LadyGrim - ‘Perhaps you gave me all your good luck? Just started and..maybe..it actually starts to look pretty cool?’ - 2 minutes ago

SirEltharin - ‘Which one did you start with?’ - 2 seconds ago

Damn, guess it wasn’t just you who was bored to bits. This guy was one fast responder.

LadyGrim - ‘The one with the book? At least, I think…. So many parts..’

SirEltharin - ‘Yea. Requires a bit of strategising hehe. Besides..holy fervour and good faith!’

LadyGrim - ‘So why did you chose the sisters? You’re a guy right?’

SirEltharin - ‘And that’s a problem? ;)’

LadyGrim - ‘No..’

SirEltharin - ‘Honestly though. They’re cool. Strong women.’

LadyGrim - ‘Who got betrayed by the man they promised to serve.’

SirEltharin - ‘Ah you read the lore? Yea..men are dicks haha ;)’

LadyGrim - ‘Can’t agree more.’

You back and forthed throughout the evening. Starting off with some Warhammer 40k related banter, but soon drifting off to talking about the Corona lockdown and the boredom that came with it. SirEltharin didn’t let off a whole lot about himself, which made your imagination run a little wild.

Perhaps it was this “milady” type of guy, that’d tip his hat at you, then grow annoyed as soon as you didn’t immediately fall in love with him. Or, maybe it was this skinny pimple-faced guy who only ever played female characters in games. Or a really, really fat guy. He did say large male hands. Large…could be fat? Or at least chubby? Ugh. What did it matter anyways. Men, you had decided, were always going to disappoint.

SirEltharin - ‘Hey, just curious by the way. Why did YOU decide to start painting?’

LadyGrim - ‘Are you asking just because I’m a girl? ;)’

SirEltharin - ‘Hardly. What do you even think of me?! ;)’

LadyGrim - ‘Okay. Don’t call me an idiot. But this movie star, Henry Cavill? He posted an image and though I absolutely think he’s one of those fake nerd celebrities who are in it for the attention, it did get me interested in the figurines..so..I just ordered and..here I am!’

He stopped responding after that. For the rest of the night. Did you say something wrong or did he just not see your message? Ah..whatever. It didn’t really matter. He was just some stranger on the internet. You started Netflix and crawled onto your bed, wasting away another evening bingewatching How I Met Your Mother.

The next morning he had responded again. Around 5 am. Damn. Nerds ARE night owls, you thought, sipping your freshly brewn cup of french pressed coffee while leaning against your tiny kitchen block.

SirEltharin - ‘Can’t really say that without knowing him, right?’ - 3 hours ago

SirEltharin - ‘Anything in particular wrong with Henry Cavill?’ - 2 hours ago

LadyGrim - ‘Woa woa. No harm meant. Sorry. Guess I just don’t trust ‘em pretty boys?’ - 3 minutes ago

SirEltharin - ‘How’s that so? And good morning, Lady ;)’ - 2 seconds ago

You bit your lip and let out a deep sigh. Oh this man didn’t know what hellfire could come his way, opening THAT topic.

LadyGrim - ‘Good morning ..and..I doubt you’d be interested.’

SirEltharin - ‘You had my curiosity, but now you have my attention.’

LadyGrim - ‘Fine. Let’s just keep it plain and simple. Lied to, cheated on and continuously disappointed. Guess I’ll just have to become a lesbian?’

SirEltharin - ‘Don’t let a few bad ones ruin it for the rest of us. Has it been long?’

LadyGrim - ‘Long?’

SirEltharin - ‘Apologies. I mean. Since you last dated?’

LadyGrim - ‘A year or so.’

SirEltharin - ‘And how old are you? Or am I being too bold asking such a thing?’

LadyGrim - ‘It’s fine. Thirty. Had my birthday two weeks ago. So yea..becoming a bit of an old spinster hehe.’

SirEltharin - ‘Belated happy birthday and..hardly a spinster, right? I mean. I’m 37 and haven’t found anyone yet. Heck. I guess I’m the old spinster here haha.’

LadyGrim - ‘I doubt the same rules apply for men.’

SirEltharin - ‘Trust me. We are all judged.’

Weeks passed and you and Sir kinda started to really get to know each other. You both lived in London - how practical -, were pretty enthused about sports, liked dogs (he had one, you wished you had one) and were close knit with your family. You with your sister, who already had a few kids. And he with his brothers. All with kids. Teasingly you donned each other the nicknames ‘Uncle and Aunty Spinster’.

You knew he had looked on your account. Seen some pictures of you. Even made a few comments on them and liked everything new you posted. But he, SirEltharin, remained mostly a mystery. You tried to talk yourself out of your curiosity, but couldn’t help but lay in bed fantasising about him. The only body part you had seen of him to this point were his hands, and they were actually quite pretty hands. Well manicured nails, strong fingers. It meant he probably wasn’t SUPER fat. So. That’s something.

Eventually the COVID-19 related regulations were becoming less restrictive and for the first time in months you could go back to work. The very news had made you both reluctant - you liked this new rhythm of painting and chatting with SirEltharin -, but also happy. Finally getting out of your tiny apartment, finally getting back to work. It may require some getting used to again, but this was just what you really needed.

In your enthusiasm you posted a picture on Instagram of your work outfit as it lay neatly spread out on your bed sheets. Your boss had made some quirky shirts to celebrate the reopening of the restaurant: “Brunello’s back” was written in fancy white lettering on the back of the shirt. You giggled as SirEltharin liked it within a split second.

SirEltharin - ‘Back to work hmm?’

LadyGrim - ‘Yep. Its all fun and games until the rat race starts again.’

SirEltharin - ‘Sounds Grim ;)’

LadyGrim - ‘You know me too well Sir. Anyways gotta go. Bye!’

SirEltharin - ‘See ya.’

See ya. You always thought it weird when strangers said that at the end of an online chat. Clients sometimes said it at the end of a phone reservation. That was understandable though; they were to come to the restaurant. But complete strangers? There was no such thing as “seeing you around”. However in the case of SirEltharin you were willing to let it slip. He probably didn’t think anything of it.

For a first night it was already quite hectic at Brunello’s. The room, although still far less bustling than usual, was filled. People were obviously eager to pick up their social lives again, the animated chatter of guests zooming around the room while you paced past the neatly spaced white clothed tables. Brunello’s was a rather luxurious restaurant and mostly businessmen and well-to-do families and friends came here to wine and dine. Tonight was special though, as a few celebrities were sitting in the far corner. Including a familiar face: Mr. Cavill, your eyes immediately falling on him as he seemingly was giving you a questioning look.

Perhaps he just wanted to order some drinks, you thought, halting next to the table and offering them your most kind, professional smile - ignoring the curious pair of blue eyes that tracked your every move.

‘Good evening and welcome to Brunello’s. Is there anything I can help you with?’ You spoke, the sentence fluently tipping of your tongue, your eyes wandering slowly over the guests. Most of them were unfamiliar to you. And Mr. Cavill..you tried to just not give him any attention as he was still burning his eyes into you.

‘We actually could use some advice on the wine. We’d like to start white, slightly fruity, perhaps French? Though the Italian one also sounds quite nice.’ A small blonde woman spoke, peering over her menu card.

As this was not your expertise, you called for the sommelier, stepping back to make room for him. And all the while you felt those eyes, gazing at you, almost brazenly. What was up with this Mr. Cavill? Or did you maybe have something funny on your face and did nobody dare to tell you? Shyly you excused yourself, leaving the guests in the capable hands of the sommelier, and quickly made for the women’s bathroom to check your face.

There was nothing out of sort when you looked into the mirror. Strange.

Peeking quickly on your phone, a habit when you were alone, you noticed a new message popping up on your Insta-chat.

SirEltharin - ‘I think we need to talk.’ - 30 seconds ago

Go to part 2

#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fluff #warhammer 40k #figurine #miniature #painting #henry cavill x reader #secretcelebrity #undercover #nerdflirt #instagram #retributors #adepta sororitas

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drethanramslay · 4 years

Text

Voicemails (part 1)

Pairing: Ethan x mc

Word count: 5.5 K words (damn that's the most I have written

Masterlist

Warning: ANGST

Taglist: @miyakokurono @trappedinfandoms @openheart12 @sekizincimektup @junggoku @ethandaddyramsey @edith-eggs1 @ethanramseysgirl @samihatuli @loveellamae @x-kyne-x @paulfwesley @zeniamiii @binny1985 @an-urban-witch-ig @ramseyegerton @noboundariesplease @mrsdr-ethan-ramsey @newcolonies @theodorepjames4 @unluckygs @choices-love-affair @kaavyaethanramsey @caseyvalentineramsey @ohramsey @virtualrain202 @squishywizardhq @junehiratas @lilyvalentine @nooruleman @itsgoingnuts @cordonianbleu @agent-breakdance @jamespotterthefirst @choicesfanaf @temptress-of-death-and-desire @ac27dj @rookiefromedenbrook @gaiusimp @theeccentricbibliophile @oofchoices @hatescapsicum @sanchita012 @edgiestwinter (if you want to be added to the taglist, let me know ☺️)

Author's note: Well I know I said I was going on semi hiatus but, my studies are going great so I decided to post 🤪 also, shout out to @kittykatchoices for helping me in bouncing ideas( she is amazing)

also I went full out and posted screenshots and dividers sike

Songs: Callin by Alec Bailey is my main muse but I made a playlist too

Forgive me if there are any errors

Day 1

Ethan was jolted awake from his slumber as the flight touched down. It continued to speed down the runaway when it eventually reduced to a slow crawl and he saw the glass facade of the airport, glinting in the afternoon sun.

AEROPORTO INTERNACIONAL DE MANAUS EDUARDO GOMES. The banner read and Ethan let the reality sink in that he actually was in the state of Amazonas, South America.

"Welcome to Manaus International Airport. The weather here is partly sunny with 98% chance of precipitation. The temperature is..."

Ethan zoned out. His back was killing him and the need to stretch was becoming unbearable. Even though the WHO team of doctors had settled in comfortably in the plush seats of the private jet, it was a very boring flight.

There is a certain restrictions to the number of boring and wasteful romantic comedies you could watch in a 40 hour flight.

They did have 2 stops for refueling but they weren't allowed to step out of the plane.

God I want to go on a run so bad. He thought mentally as he massaged his spasming neck.

The doctors kicked back and relaxed, ocassionally discussing the cholera epidemic break out in Tefé, a small city on the riverside. It was very productive and they did manage to make a dent in the treatment plan but, when everybody was asleep and it was just him and his thoughts.

And his thoughts mostly revolved around the reason why he volunteered to join these prestigious doctors to battle the epidemic.

It wasn't out of selflessness, or the need to save humanity or for some mindless award.

It was an opportunity.

An opportunity to run from the girl who has invaded his head and heart, and resided there.

Leah.

You are doing this for her own good. You are doing this for her professional development. You are doing this for her success. Feelings are fleeting, they will fade away. Ethan repeated those sentences like mantra, trying to ingrain it in his mind that he was doing the right thing leaving her behind.

No call, no text. A clean break.

But no matter how much you lie to your brain, you can't lie to your heart.

Ethan you know you are running away from her because she confessed that she loved you, stop lying to yourself. The snarky inside voice spoke up.

But, if he paid attention to it closely, it sounded just like Leah, calling him out in his bullshit.

He shook his head, trying to erase all the thoughts in his head as the aero-bridge connected to the door and they were opened. Standing up, he stretched his sore muscles and took out his duffle bag.

When he reached the exit, the air hostess with a face caked with makeup, gave him a polite smile. "Hope you had a pleasant flight doctor."

Pleasant my ass...

As he walked through the corridors towards the baggage claim area, he switched on his phone.

As he stood there waiting, he saw an influx of messages from Naveen and his dad.

But that was not what caught his eye.

Leah🌞

(3) missed calls (1) voicemail -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was midnight here and around 1 am in Boston.

Ethan walked out of the bathroom, exhausted to the bone. It had been a long day for him. The moment they had landed they had been rushed to Tefé, where they dived straight into work. The hospital was already flooding and there was so much pain and suffering all around.

Ethan has the emotions of a block of granite but, seeing so much misery and sadness, made his energies drop low.

And it did not help that the pocket in which his phone was kept, was weighing him down.

(1) voicemail from Leah🌞.

He wanted to delete it immediately but every time his finger hovered above the delete button, he just could not. So, he let it lay there in his inbox as a heavy reminder.

The moment Ethan's back hit the mattress a huge sigh of relief escaped his lips. He was weary and his body ached.

But, sleep didn't come to him.

He just lay there staring at the ceiling, seeing the different shadows casted by the moonlight. He saw the shadows of the trees swaying and the reflection of the Amazon.

His eyes landed on his phone on the bedside table and he stared at it for a long time, contemplating if listening to the voicemail was worth it or not.

You don't have to respond...

But, then my resolve will weaken...

His logic and conscience went back and forth but there wasn't any clear winner.

If this is what having feelings for someone is like, I don't want it...

But, you would take a 100 leap of faiths for Leah, won't you?

"ARGH!" Ethan threw the comforter off and got up. He started pacing around the room, trying to work off his restlessness. He walked around the room, his eyes trained on the phone as if it was a bomb. He clenched his jaw and tried to not let one insignificant notification affect him, but it was getting harder with every passing minute.

"Ah fuck it." Ethan said as he picked up the phone to listen to the voicemail. Leah's uncertain and raw voice flooded which forced him to lie down because of the emotions which bubbled to the surface.

"Umm.. hey Ethan, Leah here. I..uh heard that you went to the Amazon to fight the cholera epidemic from Naveen today... And I am proud of you but, I know that is not the reason why you ran, is it?

It's because I said 'I love you' three days ago, isn't it?"

Leah's voice cracked as she took a deep breath, before continuing.

"Are those three words that scary?

I had prepared myself that you would ignore my very existence and shut out all the feelings and that would have been painful but bearable, but... You literally ran to another fucking continent?!"

She bitterly chuckled and Ethan's heart squeezed.

"I don't even know what to do at this point. Don't they say that you should confess your feelings the moment you realize them, otherwise you will regret it? But... I can't help but feel regret... Why do I even try? I should have just shut the fuck up and get on with my day but NO! I had to open my mouth and here I am here talking to your answering machine.

I just can't help but feel that I let you slip away from me...

Anyways, it's okay.. I will wait. I promised you I would always wait.

Just...come back to me..okay? Bye."

The phone beeped, signalling the end of the voicemail. Ethan lowered his hand to stare at his phone's screen.

"I love you Ethan. And it's okay if you don't say it back. I know you need time and I will be here waiting for you..."

That's what she had said three days ago. And as much as they lifted him, it pained him. He was confused and just couldn't think straight. He needed some space.

But, he could feel his resolution weakening. The itch to dial that number and talk to her was irresistible.

You made a promise to yourself Ethan. You can't go back on that now.

He let out a deep sigh and ran his hand through his brown locks. His eyes landed on the table on which there was the complementary stationary provided by the b&b. An idea slowly bloomed in his head and he nodded to himself.

Sure I can't call her. But atleast I can write down my reply so that it won't keep on being a burden on my shoulder.

With that being said, Ethan sat down on the desk and poured his heart out on the loose sheets of papers.

DAY 10

For the next ten days, Ethan would keep an eye on the phone for any notification.

And by any notification, it meant a voicemail or a message from that one particular woman who had him in the palm of her hand.

He would get excited whenever his phone would ping but, his hopes would immediately crash when it would just be a message from the telecom company telling him about his telephone bill.

After he got his seventh 'Bem-vindo à Amazônia'(welcome to the Amazons,) he just let out a sigh of disappointment and turned his phone off and got on with his day.

I am such a moron... Look at where the mighty have fallen. The person who hated texting looks forward to a text. Ethan chastised himself as he entered the local hospital for a busy day.

Around noon when he headed to the cafeteria down the street, he turned his phone on to find a notification that made his heart beat faster.

(1) voicemail from Leah🌞

He pressed the button and brought the phone to his ear.

"Hey Ethan, just wanted to update you on the hospital and your patients. Everything is running smoothly and all your patients are alive. Chief Naveen and someone named Dr. Hirata are managing them. Mrs. Rodriguez went home today and she left you some cookies which I may or may not have stolen because well... they might catch fungi and that's sure would be a tragedy. Also, you don't even like anything sweet and would have given it to me anyways."

Ethan could imagine her shrugging as she stuffed her face with a cookie. That mental image was way too cute and Ethan couldn't help but melt a little. He sat down on his designated seat in the cafeteria and Leah continued.

"Also, Mr. Agarwal from room 456 was taken in by Harper for emergency brain surgery. He had an aneurysm and is in recovery. So far, he is showing great scope of a full recovery.

In short, everything is fine and smoothly running in your absence.

To be honest, I don't miss you that much. It just feel like a normal day when you are in one side of the hospital and I am in the opposite side. But... When I cross your office before clocking out, instead of seeing you working on your desk or lounging on the couch in your office, I just see emptiness.

And then that reminds me of the emptiness in my chest... But fuck that, who cares?!

Seriously, I don't miss you at all. But... That doesn't mean it's an invitation to stay in the Amazons indefinitely.

I would very much like it if you come back to me...okay? Bye."

A grin decorated his face and it made him so happy that his cheekbones were hurting. He shook his head as he put his phone down on the wooden table.

I don't miss you at all...

Who are you trying to convince sunshine?

Those words may be biting but he also knew his sunshine pretty well. He knew that she also missed him the way he did but, both of them were stubborn and had their heads all the way up their asses.

Neither of them were going to cave in and confess.

It's a tiring game and Ethan often wondered how long is he going to last.

So with his head full of thoughts, he took out the hotel stationary and began writing his response.

DAY 19

"Put the patients in bed number 4 and 25 in the recovery ward and ask if they are willing to provide blood for plasma therapy. Bed number 20 is going downhill so increase the dosage of the narrow spectrum antibiotics from 100mg to 250 mg every two hours. And..."

Ethan turned around and let his eyes run over the different patients. He was covered from head to toe in scrubs and goggles donned his face. The mask muffled his speech.

"Bed number 40 should move to another ward because it isn't too severe in her case. And can you update me on the patients in the gymnasium?" Ethan asked as he looked up from the clipboard.

"Most of them are infected sir. We have been segregating them from the healthy ones. We made the banquet hall the centre of testing and if anyone tests positive we are either sending that person to the hospital or to the gym. We have even initiated lockdown to prevent the spread of the disease." The doctor spoke with a heavy Portuguese accent.

"Good. Keep me informed about the patients in bed 12, 39, and 26 throughout the night."

"Yes Dr. Ramsey. Boa noite!"

"Good night."

Ethan walked out of the isolation ward and headed into the locker room where he could sterilize himself. Getting out of the numerous layers of scrubs was a task in itself and he felt so suffocated in them.

As he pealed out the layers off his sweaty body and removed the mask he stepped into the shower cubicle and turned the tap on.

He sighed in relief as the cold water washed over him, washing away the day's dirt, grime and sadness. Working in the isolation ward was never easy. It was always filled with fear and despair. Ethan would try his best to make them comfortable but, he never had a knack of people's skills.

If Leah was here she would have them laughing in no time. The thought rushed through his mind.

Leah.

Ethan was missing her terribly. The first few days were easy to handle the absence but now? Good lord, he craved her.

She was his sunshine and she always knew how to lift his spirits up when he had a rough day be it by cracking awful dad jokes, her infamous puns or her just being around him.

He missed those hazel eyes which would fill up with concern the moment she noticed his discomfort. He missed the way she would reach out for his hand and squeeze it twice when they were in broad daylight. He missed the way she would wrap her arms around his waist and lean her head against his chest when it was just them.

He stepped out of the cubicle, water dripping down his toned abs. He slipped on a fresh pair of jeans and a plain tshirt. He was about to pick up his messenger bag when he saw the screen of his phone light up with a notification.

Leah🌞

(1) missed call (1) voicemail

Ethan gave a small smile before pressing the button to hear the message.

"So apparently now I am Jenner's emergency contact, huh?"

Amusement laced her voice and Ethan groaned, hiding his face with hand. He hoped that Leah would never have to know but now the secret is out and all he wanted to do was curl up and hide.

She chuckled before continuing. "Don't be embarassed Ethan. I think that it is cute and I am so glad that you can trust me with your girl. Look at you, growing up and trusting people."

Ethan chuckled and Leah's tinkling laugh joined his.

"Basically, Jenner's dog sitter had to go out on an emergency so she called me to go to your apartment and feed her. Not going to lie but... I am scared."

She sighed before continuing.

"It's just that once I cross the threshold and see the cold empty penthouse shrouded in darkness... It would confirm that you are actually gone and that I can not continue living in the state of denial.

So, if you are getting calls from your neighbours that there is a hobo muttering to herself and pacing in front of your door, that's me."

Nervous laughter resounded on the line followed by another sigh.

"...you know what, fuck it. It's just a door."

Jingling of keys was heard on the line and it was shortly followed by excited barks.

"Oomph!" Leah was cut off by Jenner tackling her. A crash was heard, which might probably be the phone falling down on the ground.

Ethan smiled. He liked seeing his girls interacting.

Leah's coos were heard along with barks and whines from Jenner. Leah's voice sounded faraway as she spoke to Jenner in a baby voice.

"Oh girl... Don't be sad. I know he hurt you by leaving you here all alone. But you are not alone. Well, he hurt me too. So, don't worry we are on the same boat girl."

Those words were like a sucker punch in the gut and Ethan could not help but sit down on the bench as an after effect.

Don't worry... He hurt me too... Those words continue to echo through his head. He knew that Leah didn't say those words intentionally but, it just made him realise just how much of a facade she had put up, to hide her pain.

God, sunshine...

Leah's voice continued. "Well Jenner misses you too. We are okay, aren't we?" An excited bark sounded throught the phone and Leah chuckled.

"Sorry to disturb you. Go back to do your job of saving lives. You are doing a service to humanity Ethan, and I am super proud. You are so brave."

There was a pause before Leah blurted out.

"I- I miss you Ethan. A lot. And it hurts not seeing you here. But don't worry about me, I am a strong cookie and I will stay strong... For you. I just have one request though..

Come back to me soon...okay? Bye."

You have reached the end of the voicemail. If you want to hear agai-

Ethan immediately pressed the button and he heard her voice through the speaker of his phone. As she spoke, Ethan hauled a taxi to take him to his b&b.

You are doing a service to humanity... You are so brave..

Oh sunshine, if only you knew... it wasn't bravery.

I miss you a lot...

I miss you too sunshine...

Ethan sat and stared out of the window of his cab, a turmoil of emotions just running wildly in him as the words of the woman he loved, ran in his mind.

DAY 28

It was 12 am in Tefé and Ethan sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his phone's screen with narrowed gaze.

C'mon Ethan, don't be a pussy. It's just a message.

And that one message will be the breaking point for all of my will power and resolve. Might as well catch a flight home and personally wish her.

You are blowing things out of proportion... His inner voice reasoned.

"Shut the fuck up." Ethan exhaled, clenching his jaw, the muscle ticking as his eyes again landed on the blinking cursor, mocking him.

It was the 29th of April.

His sunshine's birthday.

And Ethan sat, twiddling his thumbs, contemplating what to type and send.

His thoughts went to last year when they were so at ease and could stay up and talk for hours but now, here he was, not able to formulate a single text message for the girl he had feelings for.

What have we come to?

Ethan couldn't help but feel guilty all of a sudden. Doubt clouded his mind and he wondered if running to the Amazon was really a good idea or not.

I needed space to think and figure out this 'love' thing... Right?

Shaking his head, he cleared all those lingering doubts and looked down at his phone again and wrote what came to his mind.

When did the great Ethan Ramsey get so cheesy? His inner voice snickered.

As he continued to read and re-read the message again and again, he started hating what he wrote.

"This is utter garbage. Who in their right mind uses emojis? Fuck this." Ethan muttered as he erased the entire message. He locked his phone and placed it on the bedside table before getting comfortable in the sheets and slipping into a deep slumber.

11:57 am Ethan had finished his rounds and was just taking a five minute break before he headed into the conference room where the team of doctors would discuss their approach.

The condition did improve a bit here on Tefé, but it was a massive outbreak and things were getting harder to control. It was a stress fest 24/7 and Ethan could feel his brown locks greying by the second.

In this five minute break, instead of grabbing something to eat and regroup his thoughts, he stood in the hallway, looking down at his phone. He had typed another message with lesser mixed signals.

Well... This sounds robotic... No wonder Leah called me Dr. Terminator the first time. Ethan snorted as he shook his head, disappointed.

He was about to type more when he heard his name being called by one of his colleagues.

"Dr. Ramsey, we are good to go."

Ethan looked up and curtly nodded. "Yes, I'm coming." He locked his phone and slipped into the pocket of his denim jeans, diving into work again.

7:16 pm Ethan was sat down on the bench outside the hospital and let out a breath of relief. He had been on his feet since the last 5 hours, running between the gymnasium, the hospital and the banquet hall.

The mask and goggles he had worn, had left bruises on his face and he just needed a fresh breath of air. Ethan took big gulps of the humid air which had hints of rain.

The thing about Tefé was that it rained everyday, without doubt. He enjoyed the rain but hated the humidity which was an inconvenient side effect. Though it was relatively cool at night, Ethan's shirt stuck to his chiseled body due to the excessive sweat.

Ethan took his phone out of the pocket and opened the messaging app again. "Short and sweet is better." Ethan mumbled as he started typing again.

He was half way through the message when his phone died due to the low battery. Ethan just looked up at the sky with defeat.

Was this the time to come at me karma?

He was about to head to the locker room to put his phone on charging when he heard panicked voices calling him. "Dr. Ramsey!"

"Yes?" He got up and started jogging to the entrance.

"Five patients in isolation ward CC-23 are deteriorating and they need help ASAP. We are short-handed and-"

"Say no more. We have lives to save."

12:00 am It was a stressful evening to say the least.

The patients kept on flat lining and Ethan and the staff tried bringing them back to life by injecting them with adrenaline. After a giving quite a few scares, they were finally stable and moved to the ICU.

Ethan dropped his duffle bag on to the sofa in his b&b and stretched his arms above his head, cracking his neck to release the tension in his shoulders. He fished his phone out of his pocket and immediately connected it to the charging port.

His screen lit up after sometime and he saw a notification which made his heart sink.

Leah🌞 (1) voicemail

I could not wish her...

Ethan opened his notifications and pressed on the voicemail she left, preparing himself to face the music.

"Uh..hi Ethan. I hope things are going as smooth as they can over there. I have been reading the news and keeping up with the situation there. I ain't worried about that because well... You are Ethan freaking Ramsey, the best diagnostician of your generation!"

Nervous laughter flitted through the phone speaker before it turned into a sigh.

"I know you are busy with the epidemic and all but... You missed my birthday. And- and I don't want to sound like those middle school teenager crying over an unwished birthday but... It hurts when the love of your life doesn't do it.

I have been trying to reason with myself that you could have forgotten but, I know you. I know that you never forget... And I didn't expect an elaborate gesture or anything! Even a small 'happy birthday Leah' message could have made my day... And I know you are caught up in your work but... How long does it take to type three words?"

Leah's voice cracked and Ethan felt regret gripping at his throat.

"Ethan- I am running out of reasons to convince myself. I am running out of those optimistic reinforcing shit. I am running out of the the number of benefits of doubts to give you. I am running out of faith that you feel the same way as me.

The longer I am spending time without any communication from you, the more I am loosing myself into the vicious cycle of doubt and self loathing.

I am angry at you and I hate you so much right now. I want to burn down your sweater in my closet and throw away the sun pendant you gave me. Just forget that you existed and go back to being the old happy me."

Ethan gasped, feeling breathless all of a sudden. The heavy burden of her pain and his self loathing was crushing his chest, making it difficult for him to breathe.

In a soft, broken voice Leah spoke.

"But I won't. I don't have the strength to yank the necklace off me. Even though it burns me and is a reminder of the person who left me, I still wear it. Even though your name hurts me, I still want to hear it...

...I love you Ethan, so damn much that it hurts me. I need you Ethan, I really do and I know it's selfish of me but...

Just come back to me... Please. Bye."

Ethan leaned his elbows on his knees and let out a breath which rattled through his body. He put his head in his hands and let out another breath, trying to breathe through the heart shattering pain.

I am so sorry sunshine...

So fucking sorry...

DAY 36

It had been eight days since the last voicemail and Ethan had been tormented, swimming in gut wrenching guilt.

Most of the times he found himself reaching for the phone to call her, but he would just clench his fist and resume his work. All the words left unsaid, he would just pour it out on to the loose sheets of paper. That was the only thing that prevented him from slipping into insanity.

He was never one to understand the sentimental reason behind having a diary or journal. From a scientific perspective, he knew that it has long lasting effects in mental health and helps get rid of the anxiety.

But now, whenever he felt like he was going to get crushed under the guilt, he often found himself writing.

If he wasn't writing, he would be working. He started staying at the hospital longer and worked for longer hours so that he could tire himself out. That way, when he went to sleep, he would immediately fall asleep.

But still, no matter how much he tried, his thoughts would always go back to her.

Funny how one person could make or break your life.

It was 4:45 am and Ethan was in the lab, checking in on the newest vaccine that they had worked on. The doctors had been utilising the plasma of the recovered patients to formulate vaccines using the antibodies created in defense. And so far, it had been helping them. They were already vaccinating the asymptomatic people and it made a huge impact.

But still, there was a long way to go.

"Dr. Ramsey, why are you still here?" Dr. Batra, a 50 year old woman from India asked, her voice laced with inquisitiveness.

"Just working on the vaccine strains, Dr. Batra."

"You and I both know that those strains are highly effective." She said as she leaned against the door frame.

"Never hurt to be perfect." He shrugged as he leaned back from the microscope.

"But it does hurt when you over work yourself."

Ethan sighed as he took his glasses off. He rubbed his face.

"How long have you been awake Ethan?" Dr. Batra asked, the maternal concern evident in her tone.

Silence.

"Ethan..." She gave him a stern look.

"Yeah, yeah I will go now. After some ti-"

"You do know that avoiding your problems won't make them go away, right?"

Ethan's eyes snapped to her and immediately looked away not able to hold her gaze. She reminded him of Naveen and how he could never hide anything for him.

I wonder how he is doing...

"But I am delaying the inevitable, as most doctors must do."

"Ethan... I have known you for a very short duration but, I know for a fact that you are not a man who gives excuses."

Ethan sighed. "It's complicated."

"As must all the things in this universe."

"It's just... There is this girl, and she confessed her feelings for me. And the intensity of the feelings scared me. So here I am, taking a break. But... There is this small pain in my chest whenever I think about her. She fills me up with euphoria but can also break me down. When I reflect back on all the happy moments, I get light headed, as if I am on drugs. That is why I am here, to analyse and figure out my feelings whilst helping with the epidemic."

"Well... I think you know the answer but, you are just living in a state of denial."

Ethan sighed as he looked down at his hands. "Don't I know that?"

"Well, if you know the answer then what's stopping you?"

"I-" they were interrupted by the shrill ring of Ethan's phone. He saw the name 'Leah🌞' and pressed the silent button immediately.

"You won't take that?" she asked eyeing the phone.

"I don't think I am strong enough to do that."

"Love is for the brave Ethan. Remember that." She got up and patted his shoulder before stepping out. The sun rays filtered through the gigantic windows of the lab, slowly illuminating the clinical set up with its golden rays. Ethan picked up the phone and saw that Leah had left another voicemail.

Picking up the phone, he stood in front of the window, letting the warmth of the sun wash over him. Be brought the phone to his ear and he heard her.

"Hey. Its 6 am here and I was bored so I decided to call you. Or leave a voicemail because you never pick up my call. I was just feeling lonely so here I am! Kinda ironic but meh.”

Ethan could hear her shrug though the phone.

“I have been taking double shifts all week and it's been so productive. The cool cases I have done and solved, the lives I have saved... they have been giving me my quota of serotonin.

Literally nothing interests or makes me happy now. So my job is the only thing which I look forward to. The things I used to enjoy doing, seems like a chore.

Everything seems like a chore.

Sleeping, eating, breathing, everything seems like an exhausting task. I don't even like sleeping anymore. Because whenever I sleep I dream fo you and when I dream of you, it's like I am being stabbed in the heart.

I don't even want to go home, because whenever I am home, I see your sweater and then my mind goes back to the numerous night outs we had, working on our cases.

The hospital is okay but, every corner I turn I think I see you which, I am going to blame on my sleep deprivation. Don't worry, I am not going into self destruct mode. I still force myself to eat three square meals a day and I get around 4 hours of sleep for every 48 hours I am awake.

So it's okay... I am okay.

I maybe a ticking time bomb BUT, I am not a working hazard. I am alert at all times and all my patients are in tip top condition. I think I should give credit to the two energy drinks I downed along with a cup of coffee.

Don't worry, my heartbeat is under the safe limit of 180 BPM.

In short, don't worry. I am golden.

I hope you are taking care of yourself too! I just hope that you come back to me.

Bye. Love you."

"FUCK!" Ethan exclaimed as he threw he phone with a thud on the table. He placed his palms on the cool granite countertop, breathing heavily.

Shit, shit, shit.

He started pacing in the lab, playing with his beard, his mind racing with worry and concern.

This was not supposed to happen.

Ethan stood and gripped the counter again closing his eyes, trying to centre his breathing but it was futile.

I need to do something, anything! His conscience egged him.

He opened his eyes and it landed on his phone.

Well, I guess it's time to make a call.

well, I hope you guys liked it!

do you think Ethan finally caved in and called her?

like, comment, reblog and let me know what do you think :))

271 notes · View notes

johnkrrasinski · 4 years

Text

ℑ𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔚𝔬𝔬𝔡𝔰

Chapter 3: Fall from Grace

full masterlist // series masterlist

Pairings: dark!Steve Rogers x female!reader

Word count: 3,639

Warnings: smut, kidnapping, stalking, slight bondage. (MUST BE 18+)

Summary: after the death of your mother, you decided that you were going to do something new to honor her. You chose a perfect camping spot somewhere down South. You thought it was going to be the life-changing vacation that you never had in your life, until Steve Rogers, a man existed in roughness and control all his life, found you.

a/n: chapter three is here!! they are finally going to start their festive, but steve is gentle enough to at least take things slow. things will grow more extreme in future chapters and i hope you’re ready for that. for now, let’s just enjoy, (lowkey) altruistic steve, yeah? enjoy! please leave a like and comment.

The next morning, you were woken up by a gentle caress on your hair, with a pair of striking blue eyes greeting you. Not that you had any clue whether it was actually morning. It could've been 3 PM in the afternoon for all you know, but the man before you; Steve Rogers, as he declared his name last night, confirmed it by rolling the words on his lips; "good morning."

You tried to sit up, but you remember that you were still bound in place since last night. He sat by the side of the bed, and he asked; "did you sleep well last night?" You didn't know how to answer that, so you nodded aversely. He smiled, not the menacing smirk that he displayed several times last night, but a suave one, like he was gratified by your sated rejoinder.

"I brought breakfast. You must be starving." You turned your head to your right side and a saw a small table standing next to you, containing a plate filled with scrambled eggs and bacon, the smell was so mouthwatering that your stomach grumbled at the absence.

You whined and pulled your hands scantily, hoping that it was enough to send him the message. "Oh shit, sorry." He made light of the situation and he moved slightly forward to uncuff you. You sat up and tried to take off the gag but he abruptly blocked your hands from proceeding any further.

"Let me do it." It was supposed to sound thoughtful as if he was lending a helping hand, but the glare in his eyes expunged the sentiment away for what he acutely implied was; "you don't get to make that decision of your own, little girl."

So you let loose your hands and yield into him to perform the task instead. You never cherished your freedom more than at that moment. You instantly contorted your body and grabbed the plate. You ate like you were a famished vagrant. You moaned at how succulent the meal is.

You ate in silence and he just sat there as he watched you gobbled up your food. The sound of the room was only generated from the clinking sounds of the metal fork hitting the silver platter.

When you were repleted, you put down down the dish and you drank the glass of warm vanilla milk on the tray. You gulped half of the glass and put it back on the tray. You didn't realize the remaining splotch of the milk had stained your upper lip milky white.

Steve cleaned it with the stroke of his thumb tenderly and he wiped it on his jeans. He didn't waste any second longer as he spoke up; "today, we are going to start our training. We'll go over the rules and learn the basics. We will see how much we can wrap today, and then we'll carry on tomorrow."

He got on his feet and picked up the tray from the small table, and he continued, "while I prep, you can take a shower."

Take a shower? Does this mean he was going to take you upstairs and let you use his bathroom? That's a good start, maybe, you might find a way to escape through the window or scream for help.

But your vision was cut short by his next instructions. He pointed at the direction of the staircase, but not specifically at it, but rather towards something underneath it; "you see that door over there? It's the bathroom. You can shower there."

You hadn't noticed that door before until it was pointed out. You had only been here for, you assumed, less than 24 hours, there were a lot of things you had yet to discover. After all, your first night here was restricted; you were bound on all fours and the dimmed bulb on the ceiling could only provide so much.

"I'll give you an hour to be ready for me. I expect you to be all cleaned and fragrant when I come back." He leaned down to your level and spoke composedly. "When I'm back, I want you on your knees, with your hands placed neatly on your thighs and your chin down to the ground, understood?"

You nodded. Ever since you got here, it seems like you had lost your ability to form a sentence, you could mumble a few primary words, but you still felt so caged inside despite not being restrained any longer.

"Words, sweet girl. I want you to use your words."

"Yes."

He raised his eyebrows and made a questioning look, you didn't seem to get to hint, so he proceeded; "yes what?"

Your brain quickly recalls last night's events, where he told you that you may call him sir at "certain times" and you immediately knew that this was the moment he implied.

"Yes... Sir." With that, you earned a murderous smirk on his face as if he was amused by the way the sound of the epithet rolled off your lips.

"Good girl. I'll see you later." He left a kiss on your forehead and fled; passing the staircase, off he go.

You folded your knees and tucked them under your chin. What kind of rules was he planning to go over with you? Is he ever going to let you go? And most importantly, are you truly safe with him?

Steve took off from the basement and locked the door behind him. He was amused by how obedient y/n had been so far, he quickly learnt how naive and innocent you were. He was going to have it easy when it comes to molding you into his favorite possession. The girl he had fantasized about for months; you were nearly there. You just needed a little more disciplinaries.

He calculated in head that in a few weeks, you were going to be innately capable of performing his orders. If he wanted you on all fours, with your head pressed down on the mattress and your hands tied tidily on your back, as he pounds vigorously into you, then you were going to do so, with only a single cue.

Yeah, he'll get you there. He just needed patience and perseverance.

He stripped himself off his navy blue plaid shirt and his worn-out jeans. He also pulled down his boxer and put them into the dirty laundry basket as his lengthy cock sprung free. It wobbled as he stepped into the bathroom and turned on the lights; the rustic interior came into view. There was a single, broad rectangular mirror on his right side, over the Pecan brown ceramic sink. The tile that topped the cabinet sink resembled the colour of its owner's hair; deep brunette brown.

On the left side, there was a single wooden framed window that was shut due to the windy weather that caused the fallen leaves of the trees to enter his cabin uninvited.

He diverted the shower curtains and climbed into the giant bathtub. He swiveled the shower faucet and let the warm water wash over him. His thoughts migrated to his discoveries last night. He had stolen her phone and her other personal things and stash them in the top racks of his closet.

While she was unconscious, she pressed her button onto the fingerprint passlock, and the screen lit up, displaying all of the menu icons. He looked through all of her social media one by one; her text messages, her Instagram, Facebook, emails, Youtube history, Google history, Google Play Books, and even her Amazon search list. He thoroughly scrolled through every app on her phone he could find, to dig deeper into her personal background.

From what he discovered, he hadn't learned much except; she was a nerd, the number of books she had yet to finish explained that much. Her history search revealed nothing much more than juvenile information, and the most recent ones were camping related info. She was on social media, but she didn't seem to have that many interactions cramming up her notifications. Her emails and text messages mostly consisted of professional matters with her, what he assumed, were her co-workers.

He also read several unanswered texts, saying sentimental things, such as; "I'm truly sorry for your loss." "I'll be here if you need me, call me soon!" "Do you need a friend? I can come over anytime! :)" "She was such a wonderful human being, she's in a better place now." "Stay strong, okay? Thinking about you here."

That made him curious. Why didn't she answer these well-intend messages? Who was this "wonderful human being" her acquaintance talked about? He didn't dwell on those futile questions for too long, he could ask her about it later, but now, he just wanted to learn more about his girl.

He clicked on the gallery icon and there was only a single file. He unfolded it, and the file revealed pictures that she took from the woods; the river, the trees, the scenery, etc. Then as he scrolled down further, pictures of an older woman surfaced. The older woman slightly resembled her. They both have the same eyes and that warm demeanor. Some pictures showed she was in a hospital bed, clad in a hospital gown. She looked pale and frail. He put the math together and concluded that this might be her mother, and that she was ill.

But her peer or whoever the hell that was, texted that she was in a better place now? Does that mean she was deceased? Is that why she came here all alone? To get away from her thoughts?

He'll learn the answers tomorrow, when she's awake, and when she's willing to talk.

After about an hour browsing through her phone, he decided that he had found enough. He decided to delete all her social media accounts and discarded her SIM card and the battery. Then he turned off the device and stash it back to where all her personal belongings were stored.

After he showered under the warm water and cleaned himself enough, he turned off the faucet and stepped out of the bathtub. He dried off his damp hair as he stared into the mirror, acknowledging his God-like, well-defined figure. His chiseled abs and bulky chest that could bring anyone in his way to their knees. He trimmed his unkempt beard just enough to keep it presentable. He brushed his hair until he was satisfied with how dashing he looks.

He stepped out into his room and searched through his wardrobe. He pulled out a pair of sweatpants and put it on. He didn't even bother putting on a boxer or briefs, for he knew it would go futile anyway. Nor did he bother putting on a shirt. So he walked into his basement, where his girl was kept; shirtless, and eager.

Let the games begin...

The warm water washing over you felt pleasant on your skin. You took your time in cleaning yourself up, as your minds keep drifting to the last 24 hours. Still, the remaining questions in your head were; where the hell were you? who the hell was this man? what the hell did he want from you?

You squeezed the bottle of the shampoo onto your hand and you messaged your scalp smoothly despite your restless thoughts. You had walked into the bathroom fifteen minutes earlier, and saw how complete the bathroom was.

It wasn't much, there was a single toilet and a roll of tissue glued around a wall-mounted tissue holder beside it. You also found many feminine toiletries such as; coconut shampoo, lavender body wash, vanilla-scented lotion, deodorant, toothbrush & toothpaste, razor, blades, shaving lubricant, soap bar, and nail clippers.

In the tiny cabinet sink, there were a few white towels and washcloths. Inside the drawer, there were a few tampons and pads. You truly felt like you were a special guest at a fancy hotel. The cramped bathroom was even a lot neater compared to your own in your apartment.

It makes you wonder... Did he plan all of this? If he did, how long had he been planning for this? Your own questions rose the shivers down your spine. You decided to shake it all away and stepped into the tight space behind the curtains.

You turned on the faucet and let the warm water stream over your skin.

After you were finished, you wrapped one of the towels in the cabinet, around your body. You used it to dry off your face and your hair, then you walked out to the room. You were glad that he hadn't come back yet, so it gave you enough time to get ready.

How... exactly were you going to get ready? You just realized he didn't provide you any clothes or undergarments. So you sat in your bed, still clothed in the towel until you were ready to follow his instructions.

You weren't ready to find out what he meant by "there will be punishments" as he casually stated last night, so you dropped the towel off your body and hung it on the hook behind the bathroom door.

You heard the faint sound of approaching footsteps and you sprinted to the center of the room and knelt. You placed your hands neatly on your thighs as he instructed with your head down, not wanting to stare at his face. Despite it was part of his orders, you were also fearful of gazing into this man's eyes.

The sound of the door opening reverberated through the room, and your hands shook despite being perfectly still on your thighs. Your lips trembled at the mighty presence making a grand entrance. The sound of the approaching footsteps grew harsher and in seconds, a pair of black mudded boots covered feet came into view.

"You listened to my orders well... Good. We are off to a good start. Alright, let's begin our lesson today. You can look up now."

You lifted your head to look at his face, and you trembled. Seeing this man from down here hit you differently. He was majestic in every possible way. You didn't know whether that made you feel safer or even more terrified. He was leaning on a small table pressed to the wall behind him, his hands holding his bodybuilder figure.

"First, I want you to address me as sir when we are engaged in sexual intercourse. You have learned my name but it doesn't mean you can call me by my first name whenever you like."

"Second, I don't wanna hear you talk unless I address you first. If you absolutely need to, you may raise your hand to let me know. The only thing that I wanna hear from that mouth is your compliance, understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Third," his eyes darkened. There wasn't a hint of emotions on his face, nothing but stone-cold, hard-rock sobriety. Like a supreme commander, commanding his subordinates. "I expect you to submit to me, fully. Your body and your mind belong to me now. I am in control of the way it works and I am free to choose whatever I want to do to you. No refusal, no recalcitrance, no inquiry. Trust me, the less you resist, the easier this will be."

You were stiffened in place, cemented on spot. He demanded complete submission; a person you had never come across before, the pieces of equipment that were foreign to you, a territory you never had the slightest bit of idea existed... You were forced to yield and accommodate yourself into it. You bit the insides of your cheek to forestall the tears. He already had you impotent, like a wounded animal succumbing to its injuries. Resistance would be vain now. So you let him take the wheel. Even if it means, your temple would be driven by him.

Maybe... Just maybe, after you've pleased him enough by letting him get a grip of you, he might let his guard down and you might even find a way to escape.

But not now, you must work to earn his trust first. You just needed to brace yourself and have self-control. This man promised you that he wasn't going to hurt you, after all, maybe in exchange for a few sexual favors, you might obtain your freedom.

So you entertained him, by saying his two favorite words. "Yes, sir."

"Alright. Now, get on the bed and lay on all fours, like you did last night."

You got on your feet and walked slowly to the mattress. It wasn't a comfortable one. It only had one pillow and not a duvet. It made you miss your own bed dearly.

You laid on the bed, seeking the most comfortable position, despite nothing that would actually make that much difference. You were still placed in the center of the bed, with your head on the pillow.

Steve followed you behind, and he restrained you again to the corners of the bed. He got on top of you, caging your hips with his knees.

"Today, I'm going to teach you how it feels to cum. Fall apart as you give into pleasure... You're never going to be the same once I'm done with you."

He started with nipping the sensitive spot of your neck, followed by the soft caress of his fingers, slowly moving down to your lip, circling around the bud, as he began to collect the wetness there. He moved his head down to your breasts, as he sucked your left nipple with his lips. The feeling overwhelmed you, you had never done this with any man before.

To say you were inexperienced would be an understatement. You had never dated anyone, let alone sleep with one. Your thoughts were jumbled with the sensation, you wanted to push him away, but you were bound in spot, your brain is telling you to tell him to stop, but you couldn't.

His mouth is taking its sweet time, moistening your nipple, as the finger on your bud didn't stop, but rather going faster, rubbing you up and down, that elicited a faint moan from you. What is he doing? What is this feeling? You didn't know. But you let yourself get lost in the moment. Thrilled to let him enlighten you.

He released your nipple with a loud pop and he continued his wrongdoing, by moving down to your most sensitive area. He stared at your sweet cunt and unhesitantly dipped his tongue into it. The lewd noises he was making with his mouth was making your head spin; you tried to block him out by sealing your thighs but he hindered you by wrapping his large hands around your thighs so tightly, you thought it might leave a red mark of fingers afterward.

His right-hand retreated to your breasts, to pinch the right nipple that was left ignored earlier. He groped you so fiercely that you shrieked from the pain. You shifted your head to the side to hide your pleasure, not noticing that his fingers had released your nipple to shove them inside you.

You threw your head back from the sudden intrusion. Your body felt electrified. The sensation was extraordinary. Him pleasuring you with his tongue was one thing, but his fingers stroking the sensitive spot inside you made you forget the dreary situation you were currently trapped in.

You lifted your head to look down at him, trying to figure out what was happening; you could see him engorging you with his eyes shut, as two of his fingers were scissoring inside of you. Your head was misty, and before you know it, your climax had washed over you. The sudden eruption of euphoria shocked you, as you give in to the bliss. You trembled from the unprecedented explosion your body made, as you panted harshly, ceasing you from moving.

Steve was exultant by his work, how he knew he had successfully taken the first step of breaking down your wall. How he managed to inoculate your brain with pleasure. His mouth and fingers had triumphantly turned you into an incoherent, cum-drunk mess, that you didn't even try to fight or resist him. It would be so much easier to mold you to a more advanced doll now.

He reached to your eye level and caged your head once more with his hands, as he alerted you from your post-cum bliss; "when was the last time you ever came that hard?"

You opened your mouth, with still uneven breathing, and answered; "I- I never..."

He squinted his eyes at you with a puzzled look. "You never what?"

You shuddered, cautious to not provoke him; “I never... Never done that before.”

You were comfortable with being inexperienced, until now. Until this dangerous man, who had just violated you began to interrogate your personal life; what if your celibacy incensed him because you weren't exactly what he was looking for? What he instead of releasing you, he decided to murder you and bury your body in his backyard?

He sat back, between your spread, cum-drenched thighs, and incredulously asked; "you are a virgin?"

You nodded dubiously. You broke off the gaze on his eyes, to look at the rustic wall shielding you from the world. Then his hand grabbed your chin to your move head back so that you were looking at him again; "hey, it's okay. There's nothing to be ashamed of. You are here so I could train you. We've got all the time in the world."

You didn't know how you should react to that; should you smile because of the fact that he wasn't going to murder you? Or should that frighten you instead because that means, one way or another, he was going to corrupt your innocence, and there's nothing you can do about it...

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makeyourdeanabi · 4 years

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Finale Reaction- 2 months later

In the wee hours after the Supernatural Finale, after tossing and turning in my bed, I got up and wrote this... this was before I was actually active on Tumblr and I never thought I would share this because I was too self conscious. I deleted it shortly after I wrote it because it brought me so much pain to relive it. I have since watched the Finale again and have come to terms with it and I felt it was a good time to share my thoughts. I hope that my words may bring other people comfort who feel the same way. Thanks for reading :)

Alisha

P.S. Sorry so long, I was feeling things and the words just kept coming and coming ___________________________________________

I don’t blog. Never in my life have I sat down to tell the world about my feelings in such a manner. I may contribute on message boards and social media comments, but I never thought anything was worth my time to spill my guts into the ether when I am near certain that not a soul will read them. But here I am. I have to write because if I don’t get these thoughts out of my head, I am going to go full on insane.

That ending was bad. It was a disservice to the 15 years of an incredible show that was not only genre bending it was cultural norms bending.

I could mention the various tropes that this ending (and the previous episodes) invoked, but I am not well versed in them and would never want to do anyone a disservice with a comparison that wasn’t apt.

The buildup up of each character arc and then the glaring lack of conclusion for said character arc was laughable.

To say I am disappointed is an understatement.

To say I am heartbroken is an understatement.

I am destroyed.

I am destroyed that the two men who have been with this franchise since day 1 wrote and directed an episode that they thought was the perfect ending. They thought this is what their devoted fandom wanted.

I am destroyed that the lead actors signed off on this script and went so far as to call it their favorite. I realize Jared was the only one calling it his favorite episode. Jensen admitted he had reservations about the episode and needed the wise words of creator Erik Kripke to accept it. I do have to say that taking the word of a man who left the show 10 seasons ago and hasn’t been involved in all the plot lines and inner workings since season 5 is probably not the best idea. I could be mistaken about the extent of Kripke’s involvement, but I am fairly certain that I am right in my assumptions.

Dean spent 15 years (probably more) of his life feeling unloved, unworthy, self-conscious and convinced that his life had but one purpose and that purpose would ultimately be the death of him, and he had made peace with that.

He is given a best friend, potential love interest, who helps him to see that he is more than that, so much more than that. He is selfless, he is caring, he is a lover, not a killer. His friend’s soulmate’s sacrifice is the catalyst for him believing that all these things are true. He even takes the step of admitting out loud that he knows he has changed. He knows that his life is worth living to the fullest and appreciating what he has every day and honoring those they have “lost along the way.”

To then kill him during a routine hunting trip in which the boys are up against a vampire nest they could take down in their sleep. What could possibly have been the purpose for that? To show that once they were no longer God’s little play toys their lives were expendable? WHY?

Dean, arguably the greatest hunter in the SPN universe, was taken out by a fucking rusty piece of rebar, and instead of trying to call for help and get the man to a hospital (not sure it would have helped) he has his final monologue, the one he has been due for the latter half all of Season 15. He died scared, in pain, and sad.

Dean goes to heaven, and its not the heaven we have been told of in the past where you are living in your memories. Its truly life after death and its wonderful. He meets Bobby again and told that various people in Dean’s and Bobby’s life are close by. His parents live down the road. His father, who was never confirmed to be but was most likely an abusive bastard, lives just down the road with his mother. Wonderful. (WTF?) He gets confirmation that Cas is out of the empty and he smiles, nothing more. He sees baby and goes for a drive, not to find Cas and thank him for his ultimate sacrifice, but to just drive. I like this part because we see a happy, content Dean, and we finally get to hear Kansas’s “Carry on Wayward Son” (DONT GET ME STARTED ON THE LACK OF THE ROAD SO FAR AT THE BEGINNING OF THE EPISODE). I just wish Dean’s path to heaven had been a little easier on him.

Dean deserved better.

Castiel, the selfless angel who just wanted to find purpose in his life and ultimately found it in death. He dies never being told that he is loved, after countless times of professing his love to his found family. The angel who sacrificed himself to the Empty, a horrible place of unspeakable torture, to protect the man he loves. A man who, mere days later (in my mind anyway), arrives in heaven after being killed in a gruesome accident, rather than fulfilling his destiny that Cas fought so hard to protect. Some sacrifice. It turns out that Cas is saved by the Empty from Jack, but we don’t get to see his joyful reunion with Dean, the man he loves.

Cas deserved better.

Sam is left to live this life without his brother, and potentially the love of his life because the writers couldn’t be bothered to confirm Eileen’s re-existence after Chuck’s rapture. He has a family, and he grows old (mind you with REALLY bad makeup in a show that is known for their incredible makeup/special effects departments).

He seems to be happy, but you can tell something is missing. We come to see that he raised his son to be a hunter. He raised his son in a life that, at the outset of this show, he was desperate to get out of and live a normal life. Perhaps he no longer believes that anyone can live a normal life knowing what is out there. *EDIT* Looking back I don’t believe he raised his son to be a hunter, just gave him the tattoo in case.

He names his son Dean, because of course he does. He has a wife who we see from a distance and is never given the clarity if it is Eileen or not. He finally dies after what looks like a slow and painful illness and is sent to heaven.

In heaven he meets up with Dean. This was lovely. The two of them meeting again after so long, for Sam, that is. Dean only had to seemingly wait for a few hours.

Sam deserved better.

For a show that had the potential to go out on a historically significant high, this is disappointing, to say the least. The story had the potential to end with 2 brothers who have sacrificed so much and saved so many people, find a happy ending. Not only that but find a happy ending with a deaf partner and a gay angel. If that isn’t breaking barriers and bending norms, I don’t know what is. I really would like to know what prevented this from happening. Be it the CW from restricting them or maybe the absolute lack of originality from the writers, I am curious as to their reasoning. Maybe it was COVID. Maybe because they couldn’t have those two actors physically on set due to protocols, they didn’t want to shortchange them by having them appear otherwise: disembodied voice, phone call (DONT TOUCH ME) or even a flashback… hell STOCK FOOTAGE! I don’t know and I clearly can’t imagine the reason.

I realize that there is nothing that can be done about this episode now and that accepting it and moving on is really the only way forward. But the legacy this show has left, and its lasting impact on me and my life, cannot be ignored. I was looking forward to indulging in past episodes of this show for the rest of my life. It is going to be a long time before I can watch an episode without anger and resentment towards what I know to be their eventual end. That, to me, is unforgiveable.

I don’t expect anyone to actually read this because I do not have any followers. I have never blogged in my entire life and was only recently introduced to the online fandom, but I needed to write this. I needed to share the impact that this episode had on me. I do hope that it does reach those in the fandom that may have similar feelings and are able to use my words to help express how they are feeling. We can move on, and we will move on, but we need to do it together.

I know that there are people who, if they read this, would shake their head in disbelief that I became so emotionally invested in this show that watching a bad ending would take such a toll on my mental health.

To them I say, imagine this… The Pittsburgh Steelers (my favorite team, they can imagine their own) have an incredible season. A season where they saw a myriad of highs and lows. Veteran players making incredible comebacks, rookie players coming in to their own. Season ending injuries that lead to the next man stepping up and contributing in ways they weren’t sure possible. Now imagine they make it to the Superbowl and after 3 tough quarters, in which they played their best, getting better with each quarter, they lose it in the final minutes. All that blood, sweat, and tears for nothing. Now imagine that was their last season and the Pittsburgh Steelers are no longer an NFL team. They are done. No “we’ll get ‘em next season.” No “it’s just a game and there is always another one”. Just done. Their entire franchise, for a brief moment in time, reduced to those final minutes where they failed to win. Devastating. Of course, in the long run that is not what they will be remembered for. I mean, after all, they have won 6 Lombardi trophies, and no one is taking that away from them. But the sting will remain for a while. *EDIT* This was as close to prophecy as I will ever get, the Steelers did all of the above until the playoffs, but THANK GOD, there will be another season.

If I can’t make you understand with a sports metaphor than I will never make you understand.

I love this show and this loss is devastating. I do hope that it is remembered for more than their last-minute loss. I hope it is remembered for the joy and acceptance that their fandom felt with each episode, for the laugher on set and the gag reels. I hope it is remembered for the individual players who gave it their all. I know it will be, but for me personally, this sting is going to last for a while.

#Supernatural #spn #dean winchester #castiel #sam winchester #eileen leahy #series finale #season 15 episode 20 #damn you dabb #damn you singer #destiel #supernatural

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letterboxd · 4 years

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Beautiful Day: The Don Hertzfeldt Q&A.

In which the singular creator of It’s Such a Beautiful Day and the World of Tomorrow trilogy answers 57 questions put to him by the Letterboxd community, about death, gills, snacks, back flips, the best time of day to watch a movie, and the sick pleasure of emotionally destroying people.

Since his first animated outings in the 1990s, filmmaker Don Hertzfeldt has had a way of staring deeply into humanity’s soul via a humble stick figure, and his skill at blending existential questions with situational humor breeds intense reactions. To browse Letterboxd reviews of Hertzfeldt’s animated works is to meet film lovers at a rare, collective gathering point: heaping great piles of love for films that do “the exact opposite of helping with depression”.

There’s something optimistically anti-feel-good in Hertzfeldt’s works; a bleak view of the future, and a frank appreciation of death’s inevitability, that makes viewers urgently want to fix the way they’re living right now. “I’ve built a lot of my life philosophy on the messages of this film,” writes Misty, of his acclaimed It’s Such a Beautiful Day. “It has kicked my ass completely,” writes Dirk of the first, Oscar-nominated World of Tomorrow instalment, “making me angry at myself for letting trivial stuff take over things I love and making me happy I have so very, very much in my life to enjoy and be grateful for.”

The filmmaker’s magic lies as much in the process as the content: “Hertzfeldt is able to make every moment count,” writes Artpig, of the second WoT instalment, The Burden of Other People’s Thoughts, “every line of dialogue, every moment of silence, every note of music, every line of animation.” The World of Tomorrow films, says animation expert Toussaint Egan in our Letterboxd Show animation episode, are “some of the best science fiction films, period”.

And his timing. Oh, his timing. Just as the northern hemisphere days were turning cold, and the drawn-out misery of the pandemic was really taking hold all over again, Hertzfeldt tweeted:

WORLD OF TOMORROW EPISODE THREE everywhere october 9 5pm est 🚀

— don hertzfeldt (@donhertzfeldt)

October 8, 2020

And like that, World of Tomorrow Three: The Absent Destinations of David Prime was ours, an overnight gift to the quarantined and bereaved-weary, on Vimeo for all to rent or own. The gifts, they keep coming: a master list of movies that have their fingerprints on the World of Tomorrow universe, and now, in recognition of our community’s love for his films—and in his signature lower-case—the answers to questions asked in an exclusive Letterboxd Q&A.

To make things easier for Don, we grouped similar questions (and have noted which members asked what). Read on for more than you ever thought you might get to know about Hertzfeldt’s process, brain, heart and influences.

Filmmaker Don Hertzfeldt.

From “holograms that yell at you!” to the stunning colors, textures and folds of the blue mountains, to attributes David progressively deletes to make room for memories, would you please give us an insight into World of Tomorrow Three’s world-building process? —Letterboxd in the grand scheme of the series, episodes one and two still felt like baby steps to me. episode three was my first chance to really start blowing things up and exploring this universe. when i’m writing, i don’t want to worry about going over the top or think about structure or meaning or really much of anything yet. writing is playtime, it should be fun and messy. i want to go over the top. there is no top. i don’t want to start thinking too much until i’m rewriting and sorting through it all. thinking too much too soon can get in the way, like being too aware of when you’re trying to fall asleep. when you write a diary entry or a text to a friend, there’s no self-consciousness or creative blocks, you just write. it’s casual and fluid and automatic. but if you’re asked to write a term paper or a screenplay, suddenly all those lights turn off. it can be paralyzing. it’s hard to get to that place of truly not caring what anyone thinks and approach all forms of writing just as freely as writing those immediate thoughts in your diary. but that’s what i try to do.

When you start writing a new piece, do you usually start with a plot idea, a thematic idea, one uniform philosophical notion, or a little bit of each? —Kodiak J. Sanders, Trenz, Mr. Tables i don’t think i ever write in a straight line. i’ll jot down a hundred stray ideas over time, and one day i’ll sit down and see what connections might be made out of them. i really want this scene to be in the movie, so how do i get there? this is a good line, how can i get a character to say it? so the actual story usually only starts to reveal itself when i sit down to logic all these bits and pieces out. hey, in order to connect this strange idea to that strange idea, suddenly there is a very interesting third scene.

I’m astounded by how much the animation and the visuals improve with each instalment of World of Tomorrow. What have you done differently for each one? —Aske Lund, Cringetacular the characters needed to physically perform a lot more in episodes two and three so there were more demands put on the animation. when emily 4 dances or david staggers up a mountain, those sorts of scenes were animated in “ones”, which means doing 24 drawings per second versus my usual twelve. it’s still all 2D hand animation, just more of a classic disney approach that gives the movement a smoother look and a little more room for nuance. and obviously it takes a lot more work. but i hesitate to call such things improvements because i’m not sure i like the idea of different techniques being thought of as good or bad. it’s just another way of doing things. it really depends, sometimes super limited animation can be more effective.

Likewise, Part Three’s sound design is incredible. What conditions did you create it in, and what are all those sounds, and how do you have such an incredible command of the cut-to-silence trick?! —Letterboxd thanks, the sound design is always my favorite thing to do. other than julia’s lines, it’s easy to forget that all the animation starts with dead silence. obviously there’s no sound coming from a live-action set. so adding sound and music to everything, usually pretty late in production, is when all the stuff i’ve been working on suddenly starts to feel like an actual movie. this is not a future that works very well—particularly david’s, which predates everything else we’ve seen so far by a century or two—so you’re hearing a lot of creaky old hard drives booting up, electric distortions, and bent circuits from broken toys.

Emily and Emily Prime in a still from ‘World of Tomorrow’ (2015).

World of Tomorrow used to fill me with existential dread, but now with the current state of the world it’s become more and more comforting in a strange way. Do you feel that at all as you make new episodes? —mariano gg i wish that were possible but when i’m making something i’m usually so close to it i’m unable to see anything but all the things i need to fix.

Can you talk a little bit about sourcing the photo-realistic images for the backgrounds in Part Three? —Jack Moulton most of the environments were 2D images i built in photoshop, usually starting from close-up photos of different textures (like sandstone), all sort of reshaped and puzzle-pieced into something new. an easy to see example was david’s cockpit, which was cobbled together from all sorts of different old aircraft engine and machine parts. the trick in building and lighting these locations was always figuring out where the line was drawn in making these places realistic, but not too realistic for minimal characters to inhabit. i kept landing on a sort of painterly looking middle ground.

If the cloning process in World of Tomorrow existed right now, would you go through that process and create clones of yourself to prolong your life? —tim probably not, that process doesn’t seem to work so well.

If you were put into the world you’ve created, would you buy gills? —Lauren Torres i tend to avoid putting my head under because i almost always get water in my ears so i guess i wouldn’t need them. gills also seem like they’d be a real nuisance to keep clean.

What does love mean, and why do your characters go through so much effort to find it? —Andrew Michalko oh man.

In this year of years, what do you hope people will understand about death and its inevitability (or is it all there on the screen, and if so, that’s okay too)? —Letterboxd understanding death and its inevitability is maybe the most valuable thing a person can do for themselves.

Was the absence of Emily Prime in Part Three a practical decision [Don’s then-four-year-old niece Winona provided Emily’s voice] or an intentional departure from the first two films? —Michael it was both. i couldn’t find a way to fit her in naturally and i also felt like the series needed to start growing in other directions and not rest on the past. episode two had also been really difficult to write, it was so reliant on winona’s recordings, and it felt like the dam was really broken when i was finally able to write without any restrictions this time.

In a series like World of Tomorrow, where you headed in a direction that is a lot more plot-driven than your previous work, how far in advance do you plan? Did you always know this was in David’s past, or are these stories told one at a time? —Ryan Welch, Kodiak J. Sanders, julius, Alex Leon i could tell early on that this wasn’t a story like it’s such a beautiful day with a clear beginning, middle and end, but a much wilder thing that could continue to grow. the openness of it is still what makes it so interesting to me. i have all sorts of notes for the next episodes but if i already knew what would happen in episode nine i think that would take a lot of the air out of the tires and i’d start to feel like i was just connecting the boring dots. while writing, i’ve also had to be aware that there someday might be an episode nine so i can’t go wrecking the timelines before i get there.

What were the rocks and the gas pump that Emily fell in love with meant to represent? —Ekaneff she was learning how to love, and like all of us, in her youth she gravitated to a bunch of individuals that were wrong for her.

Aside from the ability to release more frequently, is there something about the episodic structure that you prefer/appreciate, as opposed to creating one larger feature-length film? —SiddFinch1 there’s just more freedom. the traditional running time of a feature film, 90 to 120 minutes, is a totally arbitrary number.

Have you ever considered writing a World of Tomorrow book or graphic novel? —Jay Smith the earliest ideas for world of tomorrow were sloshing around in a graphic novel called the end of the world that came out in 2013. but i don’t have any talent or much confidence in making another book like that. it’s a different world. when i look at someone like chris ware and then look at something like the end of the world, it’s like, “wow, baby made a mess”.

A page from Don Hertzfeldt’s graphic novel, ‘The End of the World’ (2013).

What attracted you to the unique style [of minimalist stick figures]? Is there a sense of intimacy that you feel you can achieve with this simplicity? —Evan Whitford when i was little, before i wanted to make movies i wanted to be a newspaper cartoonist. i think my drawings today might have more in common with newspaper comics than the sort of characters you usually see in animation. comic-strip panels were always composed in a very reserved way because they were generally intended to be skimmed. you needed to be able to read the strip in five seconds so you could be off to read the sports pages and obituaries. the comics pages were also under constant size and space restrictions. so they were minimal by design and the artists reduced their characters to only their most essential parts. there was no room for fussing. charles schulz said “i only draw what’s necessary”. and that’s actually incredibly hard to do. you’re accomplishing so much more with so much less.

i’ve also found that if there’s a scene that’s not playing right and bothering me, most of the time it’s because my composition was too cluttered. i almost always find myself removing things from the frame and trying to pare it down to only what’s necessary. very rarely do i ever think ‘i need to add more stuff in here’. because this shot is only five seconds long and i want you to be looking over here when this moment happens and this character says something, and if you’re distracted by this other flickering junk i put in the corner it’s going to throw everything off.

Animation-aside, which creative medium do you resonate with the most? —Bronkdan music.

How much did you pull from real-life experiences to make It’s Such A Beautiful Day, if any? What research did you conduct into memory? —Gunnar Sizemore, David Sigura, Micah Smith whenever i got a little stuck writing it’s such a beautiful day, i’d go back and reread my journal and pull more things out of it. dreams, conversations, small scenes. reading the journal now, it seems like i stole something from it every few pages. i also heavily researched neurological problems. it’s never said in the movie what exactly’s going on with bill, but i needed there to be a real diagnosis to base the medical writing on. so all the things he’s going through are real treatments or symptoms based on an actual condition. i didn’t want to ever come out and say, “he’s got terminal brain clouds”, or whatever in the movie, because then it becomes a “brain-cloud movie”, and that’s too easy for the audience to compartmentalize and distance themselves from… “brain clouds are so rare, that will never happen to me”. but not being told exactly what’s wrong with bill might help make the story more relatable and universal.

In what ways have you kept your mind fresh creatively? How do you keep yourself from slipping into complacency? —Watchmoviez, Drew’s reviews most creative blocks or stagnation come from anxiety, second-guessing and doubt. over the years i’ve learned to just sort of calm down and trust myself more. it’s like the old aesop fable: when you stop thrashing around in the water, the water becomes clearer and you can see more. if a scene isn’t working right, i can more easily chill out about it these days and trust that i’ll eventually figure it out—because i’ve figured these sorts of things out a hundred times before and i know by now that i’m not the sort of person who’s just going to allow a scene that isn’t working to remain in the movie. there’s a little more panic about that sort of thing when you’re young: “oh no, the movie sucks right now, will it always suck?!” i’ve reached the point where i know that i will not let it suck. and that sort of thinking allows all the movie gears to turn more easily.

Do you have a specific thematic, emotional or other miscellaneous motive in mind when including classical music pieces? —James Y. Lee when i’m listening to music and suddenly the right piece arrives, it’s usually blindingly obvious to me: there’s just no doubt this needs to be in the movie somehow. it’s like the idea has always existed and i’ve just finally uncovered it. it’s the same with writing. when the right thing floats along, it is striking and obvious and into the pile of notes it goes.

How much of your animation style lends itself to experimentation, such as discovering new tricks and pretty shots, that is then discarded if you learn it doesn’t work as intended? —Adam, Jacob i think i’m always experimenting. i figure if it doesn’t work, at least i’ve learned something.

What is the strangest compliment or critique you’ve gotten personally or of your work? —Elliot Taylor i’ve always remembered this one. i am so proud of you came out a couple years after everything will be ok. it was a continuation of that story, so it was basically the first time i had ever made a sequel. and everything will be ok had done really well when it came out. it won sundance and got all these great reviews. so i am so proud of you comes out and i remember reading this review that says, “everything will be ok was probably my favorite animated short of all time. it honestly changed my life. it was funny, sad, beautiful and just so wonderful. everything will be ok, boy did i love it. incredible. two thumbs up. truly, best thing ever. wow. so, unfortunately, its sequel, i am so proud of you, just feels like more of the same.”

A still image from ‘It’s Such a Beautiful Day’ (2012).

Are there any pieces of fiction that have influenced your work that we probably wouldn’t think of? —Gyani Wasp, Mikolaj Perzyna, Aaron McMillan, Harrison, Axel, Cringetacular, The25centman, Hunter Guidry one thing that pops to mind is the phantom tollbooth. my favorite children’s books were the ones with all the fun metaphors and clever wordplay. when i was plotting out episode two i wanted to lean into that, where visiting different sections of emily’s brain would be like milo visiting the land of math, the land of letters, the land of sound, with different looks and logic to it. so we had the bog of realism, glimmers of hope, broken memories, the logic center, and all the stuff in triangle land and square land. i guess that’s a lot but i wish there had been a bit more.

How did your friends and family respond to the “my anus is bleeding” part of Rejected? —Alex Tatterson they were pretty used to me by then.

Do you know of the work of David Firth, the internet animator? His work is also surreal and has dark humor, but more sinister than whimsical. Would you ever consider making an animation in the realm of horror in future? —KEVIИ HДWKIИS i’m afraid i don’t know him. i’d love to make a horror movie. from a certain point of view though maybe it could be argued that most everything i’ve made is a sort of horror movie?

My first tattoo is of Billy from Billy’s Balloon hanging from his ankle and it was the best decision I’ve ever made. How do you feel about people having your work tattooed and do you have any ink from other creatives that have meant something to you? —Elias it really fucking enrages me when people get my stuff tattooed on them. no just kidding. mostly i feel embarrassed but i’m glad you haven’t changed your mind about it yet. sometimes i wonder how many people have.

Have you ever thought about directing live action? —Abeer, Noah Thompson yes.

Is there an update on your feature film Antarctica? —Rylan California it’s one of many things swirling around.

Will you do a remake of Robocop and why not next year? —Simon no, because robocop is already sort of perfect.

Do you ever see yourself directing a large studio film? Or working with a large team to make something with a higher budget, maybe through a crowd-funded project? Or do you just strongly prefer working on your own? —Vteyshev, Monotone Duck sure. i’ve never preferred working on my own at all. it was usually just the only way to ever get anything made. i haven’t had the funding to pay a big crew, or really much of a crew at all. there’s the old saying: you can make something good, you can make it fast, and you can make it cheap, but you can only pick two. if you make it good and fast it won’t be cheap, if you make it cheap and fast it won’t be good, etc. so my only route in hoping to make something good and cheap has been to totally forget about making it fast.

What did you find digital animation added or took away from your work, and what did those changes do for your storytelling? Will you continue using the digital medium when/if you decide to move on from the World of Tomorrow project? —Alec Lai, Slipkornbizkit, Aldo digital just sped everything up. it’s still one person drawing everything, so we need to remember that speed is relative here, but i felt like i went from riding a bicycle to driving a car. there are many pleasant, wonderful things about riding a bicycle but you’re not going to get anywhere very quickly. and i’m not in my 20s anymore, in fact my 20s and 30s were mostly entirely devoured by making movies in what was maybe the slowest way possible. so these days i am appreciating the speed of digital.

If you could have a conversation with any filmmaker, dead or alive, who would it be and why? —ToBeHonest, Cringetacular if i could resurrect one of my heroes from the dead i think i would feel terrible wasting his time forcing him to have a conversation with me. he might also just sit there, covered with graveyard dirt, screaming in horror.

What is the best time of day to watch a movie? —Sammy night. i always feel a little nuts coming out of a movie and the sun is still up.

What’s your all-time favorite science-fiction film, and why? —Letterboxd 2001. because come on.

What is your favorite of Julia Potts’ films, and why? —Letterboxd i like the one with the severed foot.

Are there any animated films that you felt had a profound impact on you as a child? —Sprizzle probably fantasia. and ray harryhausen stuff. whenever there was a sunday-afternoon movie on TV, my brother and i learned that if in the opening titles there was a credit for “special effects” we should keep watching because we might eventually see something cool.

Which one of your movies is your personal favorite? —Jakob Böwer, RodrigoJerez i don’t know. sometimes it’s the newest one because it’s usually the one with the most experience behind it and therefore feels like it has the fewest mistakes. but then over time i realize they’re all riddled with mistakes. of the it’s such a beautiful day pieces, i think my favorite has always been i am so proud of you. and then i’ll see reviews that say “clearly the second chapter is the weakest one”, and i’ll think, man you guys don’t know what you’re talking about.

One of Don’s layout sketches for ‘I Am So Proud of You’ (2008).

What’s your favorite Pixar film? —Jordan inside out.

What film would you want to be the last one you watch before you die? —Gavin honestly if i’m in the process of dying i hope i won’t be watching movies at all.

Do you have faith in humanity? —Connor Kriechbaum not often.

What is something that worries you about where humankind is headed? —Felix_Bouchard social media.

What is the most valuable thing you have ever lost? How often do you think about it? —Siminup well now i’m getting sad.

Can you do a back flip, mister Don? —Doug maybe with the help of a catapult.

What is your take on the after life? What do you think happens to us when we die? —Luisdecoss i guess that it’s probably a lot like our memory of what the year 1823 was like.

Do you want anything from McDonald’s? —Andrew Rhyne only if i’m in an airport and desperate.

What’s your favorite meal or snack? —Pfitzerone, Evan lately in quarantine i’ve been discovering this particular breakfast burrito.

How’s your quarantine life, Don? —Ivan Arcena it’s okay thanks. eating lots of breakfast burritos.

Hi! I can’t believe you’re going to read this. I am currently filled with an unparalleled amount of joy, wow. This is a long shot but here I go. I’m 17 and your (self-proclaimed) biggest fan. I’ve seen It's Such a Beautiful Day eight times now and every single time I pick up on more details. I’ve watched a few of your interviews and in the AFS one about Rejected you said that the louder you play a movie, the funnier it is. On my seventh watch of It’s Such a Beautiful Day I hooked my laptop up to three huge speakers and I must say—you were so, so right. I made a video essay about the movie. Lol, I’m not sure if this will get to you but Michael Jordan once said something about missing shots or not taking shots or maybe about tequila, I am unsure but I know it was important. Thanks MJ. Not you, Mr Jackson. I’m sorry Ms. Jackson…

I actually do have a question, sorry about the rambling. Every single time I watch the guy at the payphone flip his pencil and go “fantastic, fantastic” I cry. And I think what really does it for me is that “we’ll finally have our day”. Earlier in the movie, Bill’s co-worker talks about how all of time is happening at once. So what I constantly ask myself is if the guy at the payphone is simultaneously having his day and waiting for it. And I’m no longer speaking to that one specific example or even to the movie as a whole but I guess I’m wondering if the idea of all events happening at once comforts you?

In Slaughterhouse Five, Kurt Vonnegut writes: “The most important thing I learned on Tralfamadore was that when a person dies he only appears to die. He is still very much alive in the past, so it is very silly for people to cry at his funeral. All moments past, present and future, always have existed, always will exist.” When I read this I immediately thought about your movie. I think the idea of all of time happening at once makes all of life feel less important but more special. You know? Anyway, I suppose I’d just like to know what inspired the lines about time in the office scene. This isn’t much of a question, more an incoherent ramble but thank you so, so much for all you’ve done. I feel so incredibly inspired and so deeply moved by your work and I know that so many people in this comment section and around the world would agree. I can’t believe I’ve been given the opportunity to ask something. It really is such a beautiful day. :) —Eli Osei (co-signed by Vooder) that old guy at the payphone was someone i saw at the laundromat once and he borrowed my pencil and the whole thing just played out like in the movie. i just thought it was such a perfect little scene that i’d just witnessed. anyway, the idea of time being a landscape and everything taking place “at once” just came straight out of a science magazine. i don’t know how, but apparently it’s been more or less proven to be true? we perceive time in one direction, but the past and the future are always all around us. think of it as though we’re driving our car through a landscape. even though the mountains we saw ten minutes ago are behind us now, it doesn’t mean those mountains have ceased to exist. they’ve only ceased to exist from our point of view. we’ve only just driven past them. the mountains, like your childhood, are still going on back there. anyway, i had never heard of that before and thought it needed to be in a movie.

A still from ‘World of Tomorrow Episode Two: The Burden of Other People’s Thoughts’ (2017).

Are you a fan of Kurt Vonnegut by any chance? It may be coincidental, but I love how you both utilize science-fiction settings and concepts like being “unstuck from time/memory” to explore the human condition. I feel his writing and your animation are both capable of making me laugh wholeheartedly one minute and weeping genuine, sorrowful tears the next. —Vooder i’m embarrassed to say i’ve never read him and i’m told on a regular basis that i should. that all started after i am so proud of you came out with those discussions about time being a landscape. but i almost only ever read non-fiction. it’s a long story. but now i’m almost afraid to ever read vonnegut after all these years of build-up.

Hey Don, this is really cool. I don’t have as much of a question, more of a comment. It’s Such A Beautiful Day has gotten me through a lot of hard times, being in middle school sucks, I think everyone knows that: and your movie has made life just a wee bit better for me. It also gave me the inspiration and motivation to finish my first feature! Thanks lots. Love from Indiana —Blood Mountain: Experimental Cinema <3 hey thank you. yeah middle school was pretty much the deepest pit of hell. there’s this old saying, “if you find yourself in hell, keep going”. and i’ve never understood that saying. “keep going”, because, i guess, you can always just go deeper into hell?

Hi! Has the vitreous humour in your eyes started to deteriorate and have you experienced floaters within your eyeballs? If not, that’s okay. Just remember it’s part of life, so don’t get scared when it happens! Just keep moving on! But if you do have them, follow-up question: Do you think it’s funny that the body of vitreous fluid that allows your sight to be clear is called the vitreous humour, and when it detaches it’s anything but humorous? I find that pretty humorous myself, in, like, an ironic way. —Clbert1 i actually blew a blood vessel in my eye a couple weeks ago and the whole thing turned bright blood red. it didn’t hurt or anything, i just walked into the room all disgusting and my girlfriend was like, “what the fuck?!” and then the next day i had further weird eye problems. i just went to the eye doctor yesterday. i think i will be fine but i was thinking, wouldn’t it be like the most heavy metal thing ever for my biography if i just suddenly went BLIND? “and then in 2020, HE WENT BLIND.”

Will Intro ever be released to the general public outside of theater screenings? —Melissa okay yes you’ve talked me into it. on that note, i noticed that the poster of intro used on letterboxd is a weird fake and i’m not sure where it came from. someone just used a picture from rejected. if fake posters are to be made i would prefer it if they used a picture from raiders of the lost ark or something.

Do you have plans to combine the World of Tomorrow shorts into one feature-length film à la It’s Such a Beautiful Day? —David Sigura, Sam Stewart, An_Person no, it’s going to be much longer than a feature-length.

Will we ever get a ‘Hertzfeldt 4K Collection’? Or at least a Blu-ray with It’s Such a Beautiful Day and all episodes of World of Tomorrow? —Teebin, HippityHoppity there is actually already a blu-ray for it’s such a beautiful day. up next we’ll do some sort of world of tomorrow blu-ray of the first three episodes. but 4k is too many k’s. you don’t need that many k’s.

Would you ever consider comprising an OST album of all the songs you used and mixed from your films? —PhiloDemon i don’t think so. i read that for many years cat stevens resisted releasing his original songs from harold and maude on any records because he thought they were more special if you could only ever hear them in the movie. i like that.

Do you get a sick kind of pleasure from emotionally destroying people with your movies? —MaxT26 yep.

What’s been your ongoing experience of the outpouring of joy and love of your work? —Henry gratitude. how sad for me if, after all this work, nobody was watching at all.

Related content

Don’s invaluable Twitter thread about “old-school animation camera stuff”

A Few of the Fingerprints on the World of Tomorrow Universe: a list of influences curated for Letterboxd by Don Hertzfeldt

Modest Heroes: the Letterboxd Showdown for indie animation

The Drawn Cinema: Analena’s list of rough animation, pencil textures, watercolor effects, dynamic brushes and other poetic artistry.

Beloved Indie Animation: a list by Gui

Animated Sci-Fi and Fantasy: an extensive list by Stonefolk

‘World of Tomorrow Three: The Absent Destinations of David Prime’ is available now through Bitter Films on Vimeo.

#don hertfeldt #world of tomorrow #it's such a beautiful day #animation #hand-drawn #hand drawn animation #2d animation #animated film #animated short #emily prime #david prime #science fiction #sci fi animation #animated sci fi #letterboxd

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mayaswellbeacat · 4 years

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People, we were Chuck all along

Almost 90 hours after the end of fandom as we knew I just realized something that is probably obvious to everyone else but just downed on me: I went in last week thinking that in the narrative of the last season had some clear parallels in the role that we played in the Supernatural world:

*SPOILERS*

Chuck = Writers/Show runners

Becky = Fandom

This meant that the whole point of the series was all along to ‘free’ Sam, Dean and Cas from the people have been telling dictating their lives this long (Chuck) and allow them to get out in the world and grow beyond the restrictions of the series. I honestly expected the series to wrap up with the most open ending with, hopefully some nods to a happy ending. I obviously hoped for a Destiel resolution of some kind but was not holding my breath.

I was wrong. SO wrong.

I was wrong not only because the ending was the complete opposite of open (I don’t think it can get any more closed ending than what it was for all the mystery and ‘it’s open to interpretation’-ness that some people are trying to give it *cough* Jared *cough*) but also because we, the fandom, were both Chuck AND Becky all along. We were the ones that watched them for entertainment, we’re the ones that went off and created all these other worlds, we’re the ones that when they didn’t do what we wanted them to do, i.e.: stop being misogynistic, chauvinistic, homophobic and embrace the diversity and otherness that they accidentally created and tell the most interesting story instead of the one that has been told 1000 times before, threatened them with extinction/cancellation or made up our own version that actually fit the type of content we wanted to see.

It turns out the ending that right after watching seemed so contradictory to what I thought was the actual message of the season (if not the whole show), was not really so contradictory: Chuck did lose. ‘Free will’ was never our ‘will’ but theirs. And the freedom that they wanted was to own the story at the end, like they owned it in the beginning, completely and with only the room for interpretation that they chose to give it.

Coming to this realization on my own, even if not necessarily an innovative take, has helped me immensely to understand some of the feelings I’ve been experiencing since watching 15x20: the feelings of defeat, humiliation, loss, grief and hurt. It has also allowed me to do what all good ‘villains’ do after being ‘defeated’ by the so-called ‘heroes’ do: plan my revenge.

Revenge:

1. The other worlds we created? No need to delete them like they want us to. They’re ours. I’ll continue to grow them, feed them and make them better and more diverse.

2. The other stories that I watch to be entertained: I’ll continue to make them accountable for what they do and what they don’t do. I’ll question them and I’ll expect better always.

3. And for the people that hurt me this time: I don’t support bullies or cowards. I’ll remember who they were and what they did. They’ll want my money and attention again and they won’t have it.

#supernatural #supernatural meta #15x20 #spn #spn meta #destiel #deancas #dean winchester #castiel #castiel meta #destiel meta #spn spoilers #supernatural spoiler #chuck

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biostudyblog · 5 years

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Molecular Genetics

DNA has not always been the accepted building block of genes and inherited material. Until the 1950′s, this role was believed to be filled by proteins.

The Search For Inheritable Material

In 1927, Griffith discovered bacterial transformation, which is the ability of bacteria to change their genetic makeup by absorbing foreign DNA molecules from other bacterial cells and incorporating the DNA into their own.

Then, in 1944, Avery, MacLeod, and McCarty published their findings that the molecule that Griffith’s bacteria was transferring was DNA.

In 1952, Hershey and Chase proved that it was DNA and not proteins that were the molecules of inheritance. They tagged bacteriophages (viruses that target bacteria) with radioactive isotopes, tagging the protein coat and DNA with different materials. They discovered that when the bacteria were infected with the virus, it was only the radioactive isotope they had tagged the DNA with that showed up.

Rosalind Franklin continued work started by Maurice Wilkins, and by carrying out X-ray crystallography analysis of DNA, found that DNA was a helix. Unfortunately, although her work was the essential backbone to Watson and Crick’s later discovery that DNA is a double helix, she didn’t get credit and was not named in the Nobel Prize.

Meselson and Stahl proved Watson and Crick’s hypothesis that DNA replicates in a semiconservative fashion. In order to prove this, they cultured bacteria in containing heavy nitrogen. They then moved them into a container with light nitrogen. The bacteria could replicate and divide once, and the new bacterial DNA had one heavy strand and one light strand, proving their hypothesis correct.

Structure of DNA

DNA is a double helix and looks like a twisted ladder

DNA has two complementary strands running in opposite sides from each other.

It’s a polymer with repeating units called nucleotides.

Each nucleotide has a 5 carbon sugar (deoxyribose), a phosphate molecule, and a nitrogenous base

There are four possible nitrogenous bases: The purines adenine, and guanine, and the pyrimidines thymine and cytosine. A goes with T and C goes with G.

The nucleotides of opposite chains are bound by hydrogen bonds.

DNA Replication in Eukaryotes

DNA replication is the process of making a perfect replica of the original DNA strand. Semi-conservative replication shows that the two new molecules of DNA have one old strand and one new strand.

Replication occurs during interphase

DNA polymerase catalyzes the replication of new DNA. It also proofreads each new DNA strand, fixing errors to minimise mutations.

DNA unzips at the hydrogen bonds connecting its two strands.

Each strand of DNA serves as a template for the new strand, based on the base-pairing rules.

Every time DNA replicates, some nucleotides on the end are lost. To prevent this from causing a problem, their DNA has nonsense repeating nucleotide sequences called telomeres.

Structure of RNA

RNA is a single-stranded helix.

It is a polymer, like DNA made of repeating units of nucleotides

It has ribose, a phosphate and a nitrogenous base

RNA does not have Thymine. Instead, it has Uracil. A pairs with U, C pairs with G.

There are 3 kinds: mRNA (messenger RNA) tRNA (transfer RNA) and rRNA (ribosomal RNA)

mRNA: Carries messages from DNA in the nucleus to the cytoplasm during protein synthesis. The nucleotides on mRNA are called codons.

tRNA: Carries amino acids to the mRNA to form a polypeptide. They have triplet nucleotides that are complementary to those of mRNA. These are called anticodons.

rRNA: Is structural. Makes up the ribosome, along with proteins

Protein Synthesis

There are 3 main steps to protein synthesis: transcription, RNA processing, and translation.

Transcription

Transcription is the process where DNA makes RNA. It is facilitated by RNA polymerase and takes place in the nucleus. The triplet codes on DNA are transcribed into codon sequences in the mRNA.

If the sequences in DNA triplets is: AAA TAA CCG GAC

The codons will look like this: UUU AUU GGC CUG (remember RNA does not have Thymine)

RNA Processing

After transcription, the initial transcript is processed and edited by enzymes, who remove introns (noncoding sequences of RNA). The remaining exons are pieced back together to form the final transcript. The now shorter mRNA leaves the nucleus

Translation of mRNA Into Protein

Translation is the conversion of mRNA into an amino acid sequence.

It occurs in the ribosome. Amino acids in the cytoplasm are carried by tRNA to the codons of the mRNA strand according to the base-pairing rules (think of it as trying to put a puzzle together.)

Some tRNA molecules can bind to two or more codons. For example, there are 4 separate sequences who code for the single amino acid: Serine.

Gene Regulation

Cells are not constantly synthesizing all the peptides it can make, as otherwise, the excess proteins would harm the bodies homeostasis. What this means is that the cells need to be able to turn their genes off sometimes. While this process is not well understood in humans, in bacteria it is a much more simple process, and much better understood.

The operon is the key to gene regulation. It is a cluster of functional genes, along with the “switches” that turn them on and off. There are two kinds. The Lac or inducible operon is normally turned off until it is actively triggered by something in the environment. The other is the repressible operon, which is always turned on unless it is actively turned off.

On the operon, there is the promoter. This is the binding site of RNA polymerase. RNA polymerase always needs to bind to DNA before transcription happens, so the promoter is the equivalent of an on the switch. There is also the operator, which is the binding site for the repressor, which turns of the Lac operon. The TATA box helps RNA polymerase bind to the promoter

Mutations

Mutations are changes in genetic material. They are spontaneous and random. They can be caused by mutagenic agents, toxic chemicals, and radiation. They are often given a bad name, however, they are essential for natural selection.

Point Mutation

A point mutation is the most simple form of a mutation. It is a base pair substitution, where one nucleotide becomes another. The effects of this can be seen when trying to read a sentence.

THE FAT CAT SAW THE DOG ------ THE FAT CAT SAW THE HOG

The change isn’t too dramatic, and the sentence is still legible, albeit having a different meaning

Insertion and Deletion

Insertion and deletion cause much more dramatic changes. They occur when one nucleotide is lost, or an extra nucleotide is added to the sequence. These are also known as frameshift mutations.

Insertion:

THE FAT CAT SAW THE DOG --- TTH EFA TCA TSA WTH EDO G

Deletion:

THE FAT CAT SAW THE DOG--- HEF ATC ATS AWT HED OG

Chromosome Mutations

I went over chromosome mutations more in detail in my classical genetics post, so I’ll do a brief overview of some terms here.

Aneuploidy is a condition where someone has an abnormal number of chromosomes. Someone who is intersex is an aneuploid because of a chromosomal mutation that gave them an abnormal number of sex chromosomes.

The condition of having more chromosomes than average is called polyploidy. People with down syndrome are polyploids. More specifically, they have trisomy-21, meaning instead of 2 chromosome 21′s, they have 3.

These mutations are caused by nondisjunction when homologous pairs do not separate properly during meiosis.

It is important to know that chromosomal mutations do not always have disastrous effects. People with aneuploidy still live extremely fulfilled lives, and some don’t just learn to live, become happy with how they were born.

The Human Genome

A genome is an organism’s genetic material. The human genome contains around 3 billion base pairs of DNA and 20,000 genes. 97% of that DNA does not code for protein production. Some of this DNA are regulatory sequences controlling gene expression, some are pseudogenes, which are former genes which accumulate over time. DNA is still very elusive, and scientists learn new things about it every day. Maybe one day, a scientist will read this blog, shaking his head at how wrong we were today.

Genetic Engineering and Recombinant DNA

Recombinant DNA is the act of taking DNA from two sources and combining them into one cell. This is the foundation of genetic engineering and biotechnology. Two pieces of this massive subject are gene therapy and environmental cleanup. The hope with gene therapy is that scientists may figure out how to insert functioning genes into humans to replace their nonfunctioning ones. Success could mean a cure for cystic fibrosis and sickle cell anaemia. Along with this, microbes could be engineered to decontaminate harmful chemicals at mining sites. GMO’s could be modified

However, the safety of genetic engineering. GMO’s, in particular, have become a major talking point. One major concern is that GMO’s will accidentally be introduced to the wild which could have major impacts on the ecosystems surrounding farmland.

Restriction Enzymes

Restriction enzymes are essential for scientists who work with DNA. They cut DNA at recognition sequences or sites. They are referred to as molecular scissors. The pieces of DNA that result from the cuts are called restriction fragments.

Gel Electrophoresis

Gel electrophoresis is the act of separating large molecules of DNA based on their rate of movement through an agarose gel in an electric field. The smaller the molecule of DNA, the faster it travels. Before being placed in the gel, the DNA is prepared with restriction enzymes, providing small enough molecules for the scientists to work with.

Polymerase Chain Reaction

Discovered in 1985, a PCR is a cell free, an automated technique that rapidly copies or amplifies DNA. This is great for forensic science, where small pieces of DNA can be expanded, and then compared.

#genetics #molecular genetics #chemistry #DNA #RNA #rosalind franklin #watson and crick #biotechnology #gel electrophoresis #genetic engineering #recombinant dna #studyblr #biology #biology studyblr #SAT subject test #sat biology

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inadaydream99 · 5 years

Text

Reunited

~ Part one ~

Ateez (all members) x reader

A/N - this was originally meant to be a oneshot but I got a bit carried away with the storyline and decided to make a mini series. I hope you enjoy! 😁

———————————————————————

~ Flashback ~

“It’s all your fault.” the bitter tone makes blood rush to your face, the fact you had been accused in front of your best friend making you feel highly embarrassed.

“Is it?” Mingi turns to look at you in shock, his eyes wide in disbelief.

After all that had been going on recently, the last thing you thought would happen was for you to be blackmailed into this situation. It wasn’t your fault and you were adamant on that. You were backed into a corner so to speak.

“I-i had no choice.” You begin to tremble. The lump formed in your throat restricting the volume of your voice to just above a whisper.

“How? Why?” Mingi utters in confusion as he retracts into his mind while it goes into overdrive.

“Because (Y/N) here doesn’t really value your friendship as much as you thought she did.” San evily smirks at you, taking great pleasure in watching as the world seemingly crumbles down around you.

“Mingi i-”

“Stop.” Mingi harshly interrupts you, his expression solumn and eyes full of disappointment. “I think you should go.” He continues after a moment of unbearable silence.

Your head hangs low as you try to swallow your emotions, nodding lightly before grabbing your coat and walking away.

You didn’t put up a fight, or try to defend yourself that day and everytime you think back on that time you feel another piece of your heart break off. You had been friends with all the members of Ateez, knowing them for years before their debut. And you’re not really sure how or why it happened, but one day San turned against you and from then on made it his mission to break your friendship with the group. It was just before they released their first song and, looking back, you assume it was because he wanted everyone to focus on their careers and not have any distractions. But deep down you knew it was more personal. The day you walked away you had been deleted from their lives. Knowing fully well that you had to move on from them and focus on yourself.

You let San win, you let Mingi go without a fight, and worst of all, you destroyed everything you and Mingi had built.

You welled up with tears as you stood in front of the shop window and gazed at the giant poster advertising their upcoming show.

You had been following the group since their debut, their success in just a year ashonishing and you couldn’t be more proud. You knew they deserved it. You just wished you could be there to support them.

You couldn’t stop yourself from the sadness that bubbles up inside of you as your eyes focus onto Mingi’s face. He looks so happy in the picture, he is quite literally gleaming with joy and that only makes you feel worse. You let out a little sigh, your shoulders slumping and your posture becoming deflated as you finally turn and continue walking in the direction of your university buildings.

Just as Mingi and the rest of the guys had progressed in the last year, so had you. After re-evaluating what your options were, you decided to go to uni and study as hard as you could to be able to do your dream job. And that’s exactly where you were heading now. You enjoy your walk to class through the busy heart of the city everyday. There is always something happening, always something new going on and it creates this feeling of excitement inside you.

As you turn into a side street you are brought out of your thoughts when you encounter a sudden large group of people excitedly shouting and taking pictures as they crowd around each other on the opposite side of the street. It’s mainly girls, seemingly around your age who are making the biggest commotion and you can’t help but wonder who could possibly be catching their attention.

But you don’t have time to give in to your curiosity and shrug it off, continuing down the street. You pick up your pace a little wanting enough time to buy something to give you some energy before going into class. The shop you were heading to was down that same, usually quiet, street and you wanted to be out of the way before it got too busy.

You take a deep breath as the shop door swings open and the bell chimes, walking through with heavy breaths from your accelerated walk.

Approaching the cooler your eyes scan the shelves of drinks, stopping when they land on the bottle of coke, a smile breaking out across your lips. This is exactly what you needed.

The bell rings through the small shop once again as you are at the register. The sounds of screaming and the rushing cluster of heavy feet grabbing your attention away from handing the money to the man behind the till.

You roll your eyes and huff in annoyance upon seeing what looks like two security guards blocking the door. Great. Now you’re trapped and you really don’t want be late for class.

Walking over to the men you awkwardly clear your throat to get their attention, a feeble and nervous smile on your face as they direct their attention onto you.

“Excuse me, I’m actually in a bit of a hurry.” You softly speak as you gesture with your head to the door which they are obstructing.

“Sorry, you can’t leave. Not until they all go.” The taller and arguably slightly more intimidating one reply’s, his voice is gruff and harsh, but at the same time controlled.

“But I really need to-”

“(Y/N)” you are interrupted and your body stiffens as you hear your name, the lump back in your throat upon hearing the unmistakable voice. You almost don’t want to look around to confirm it is who you think it is, but before you can process your actions you already have.

“Mingi...” you shakily speak his name, your eyes nervously taking in his tall frame to confirm it really is him.

“It’s been a while.” He speaks, his tone ominous and expression unreadable but you can tell he feels awkward.

“Ah Mingi, Jongho found a back exit-” Yunho rushes up to Mingi from behind, falling silent and stopping in his tracks when he sees you. “Oh” is all that comes out of his mouth, the dumbfounded tone expressing Yunho’s loss for words.

“Tell the guys I’ll be there in a minute.” Mingi lightly hits Yunho in the arm to draw him back into the moment. Yunho wordlessly nods before turning and waking back the way he came.

“Look, I’ve got to go but take my number and text me- yeah. It’d be nice to catch up.” Mingi forces a small smile as he hands you a crumpled piece of paper which he scrawled his number on. You take the paper and put it in your pocket, holding it tightly in your fist.

“...sure?” Your reply kind of comes out as a question which makes Mingi snicker, the smirk now on his face making your heart flutter. He really hasn’t changed one bit.

You stand on the spot as you watch him rush off the same way Yunho did, your mind empty of all thoughts.

You sigh as you turn to look at the clock ticking on the wall behind you. You’re definitely going to be late for class now and judging by the security guards pressing onto the door to keep it shut you know you are going to have to leave out the back and take the long way.

~~~~

You stare down at your phone, thumbs anxiously twiddling together as you try to build up enough courage to send a text to Mingi like he asked you to. But you don’t know what to say.

You are on the edge of your bed, chewing nervously on your bottom lip as you finally begin to type.

Just a simple message... just say hi.

No, scrap that...

[From Y/N] Hey, this is (Y/N)

You press send on the message and anxiously look at the screen. Why is this so difficult. It’s Mingi, the boy you have known for years... the same one that got a crayon stuck so far up his nose he had to go to hospital to get it removed.

You get so caught up in reminiscing that your heart almost jumps out of your chest when your phone lights up with a reply.

[From Mingi] I’m so glad you messaged me

[From Mingi] ...and hi

[From Mingi] sorry, I don’t want to make it weird but I was waiting to hear from you

You can’t help but giggle at Mingi’s responce, your cheeks turning red at picturing him watching his phone waiting for your text.

[From Y/N] like this isn’t already weird anyway...

You smirk as you watch the bubble pop up to show Mingi is typing, your face falling flat when you see his message.

[From Mingi] are you free to meet?

#ateez series #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #ateez san #ateez mingi #ateez wooyoung #ateez jongho #kpop series #kpop fanfiction #kpop fluff #kpop angst

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thinking-in-pictures · 5 years

Text

In light of the recent aywas confessions bs

Kanein Gets Banned:

- suicidal

-not eating

-everyone is worried she was going to die

Dec 29th:

-trying to figure out how to get her a laptop so she can play minecraft and has something to live for

-multiple people have pooled money

-she says she wants a computer part to repair her current. claims to have linked it, nobody has any recollection of it

Early January:

-several of us are sick or working and are not always in chat

Jan 5th-6th:

-Kanein threatens self harm and disappears for 2 days

-We are all worried and discuss sending a letter to their housemate to check on her

Jan 9th:

-she comes back and has been watching TV full screen.

-upon us being upset told us it was our fault for worrying

-Someone, encouraging her to self care, says 'resistance is futile, you will be assimilated' as a friendly joke

-Kanein gets really angry about it, saying we are mocking her intelligence

-one of the group chat members is having to put their cat down. Kanein says cats can't love. Cat owner is upset.

-Kanein decides it's an insult to her intelligence and animal training -deletes the entire chat and blocks everyone

Jan 9th-13th

-Kanein is missing and has threatened self harm before she left

-I put first aywas confession wolf post up in hopes she sees it and realizes she's being paranoid so she comes back and we can see if she's ok

-she goes to mod of shared discord server and tells mod that cat owner is the reason she is suicidal

-mod kicks cat owner

Jan 13th:

-I contact cat owner to see if they are okay. they are not

Jan 14th:

-I'm working with the discord server to clear cat owner.

-we create a server of staff and involved people

-we get cat owner unbanned.

Jan 13th-29th:

-Kanein is missing for 10 days

-in the meanwhile we compared stories and found out she had been using a mix of manipulation tactics for each of us

Kanein returns. does not handle cat owner being back graciously

-will not answer questions about why she's doing this

-I pin her down for a yes or no question issue

-She wants everyone to leave her alone

-Mods restrict her to her rant channel and also block her channel from access outside of mods in compliance

-She does not handle this well and verbally lashes out

-she blocks everyone

-she starts routinely going around and messaging random members trying to convince them of how bad other members are

-she doesn't realize we've all shared seamless screenshots with each other and have a compiled evidence folder

-she hits mostly the outliers not realizing they've been kept in the loop

January 30th:

-after being turned away from the outliers she finally contacts me on a fake tumblr account

-I tell her that she hurt us and that we don't trust her not to hurt us again

-I offer friendship if she's willing to get therapy

-I offer her links to social services

-she does not take no well and copies a 'evidence' folder than I copy myself in google drive so she can't delete and edit it

-evidence folder is compiled of 'discord' chats with blacked out names that type like she types on her twitter

-which is, surprisingly, not heftily misspelled just she does on aywas members

-she deactivates this random tumblr she made after I tell her no

Feb 1st - 17th:

-she messages some of the more kind members that didn't flat shut her down

-she gets no validation for her decisions

-as a group we start discussing what it would take to get a cease and desist in advance and start researching cease and desists and other internet laws, and writing up form letters

Feb 17th:

-she posts the reply to the wolf post on aywas confessions

Feb 17th-21st:

-she has tried to get the kind outliers involved with harassing me, but they have been kept in the loop

Feb 21st:

-I am TIRED. I post the reply on aywas confession because I want LEFT ALONE.

Feb 21st-23rd:

-she vagues the post and goes to kind people to convince them I'm trying to doxx her

-they have been kept in the loop. they are not convinced, they do not reply

Feb 25th:

-I call the cops in her area to ask them to stop her from harassing me and also do a welfare check.

-in the same day she sends me a letter asking me to return some items to someone else, with the shredded up art I made her. this feels like a threat.

(postmarked envelope)

why this bothers me:

1. It was compiled like a glitter bomb and she knows I'm physically very disabled and pursuing a caretaker to help

2. She has been saying she has no money for even a $1 thing but didn't mind paying multiple dollars in postage to put the financial responsibility on me to return it despite being quite poor myself.

3. it was mailed the same day I tried to get her to stop

4. she cut the amazon return receipt in half

5. she's accusing me of what she's doing

6. she writes better in ink than I do!

Feb 29th:

-I am vaguely threatened by a self proclaimed lawyer with extortion to leave aywas or they won't come back and that I don’t have a case.

#aywas #aywas confessions

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cxncordia · 5 years

Text

So, am I still in hiatus?

Sorta.

First of all, what happened?

Last night, on the gay smut server, I gave a “gossip” about a topic that came up: it was something I have heard from another friend regarding the topic. And from there on invoked a discussion about social issues in media. My big problem with these discussions of social issues in media is that they tend to turn into a “woke metric” to see which shows deserve more laurels for being more “woke”. After the discussion happened and I was online again, I mentioned my opinion. Sarcastically, sure, but an honest opinion nonetheless. Somebody else mentioned how what I said had nothing to do with the topic and then I elaborated again on it. I stood by my point on a second paragraph, mentioning that things needed to be looked at in context. I didn’t want to keep on discussing, so I went ahead and deleted those messages because, there was no real reason for them to be kept there.

After this discussion I went to get a haircut, but I noticed I could not reach one but two of the indie roleplaying servers I was inside. I thought it was an error, but still asked a friend about it.

Turns out that I was banned.

When I came back from my haircut my friend sent me screenshots of the discussion that happened. Not only was I banned, but I was made out an exhibition and there were some other people adding in very nasty things and unfounded actions that supposedly I did.

I was mad, so for that very reason I came back here, put everything on hiatus and took a step off. I was very close to delete because this is the last straw on a series of times that this shit happened.

But after taking a moment, reading a few books that I have on this kind of situation and taking a moment to myself, I decided that no, I was not going to take a hiatus. One, I like writing and this is something that is inherently me. Two, I have friends in here that I like to keep on touch with and people that were interested in my well being. Three, there’s a lot to be said here and I will use this space to say it.

---

I admit discussions like this aren’t that uncommon in the server and I usually have strong opinions about them. I have also differing opinions at times and I mention them. I admit not having always the best words or sometimes being very sarcastic. Maybe something gets lost in the translation when I’m not being sarcastic? (Because I think a lot of people forget that English IS my second language) Maybe it’s my way of being? It’s not the first time I’ve been called “abrasive” or “combative”.

But it’s also something that I admit I like about being me. As a gay man growing up in a hyper macho family, inside a city that kills people for less than pennies and in a country that still repaints white over rainbow walk lines on the roads during Pride, being combative is the only way of being. Letting someone walking over you is just not an option. And while I admit this is not an excuse, there is also a lot of misjudgement here. You’re also forgetting that I come from a generation that did not have any rights whatsoever and that could not do what many can do now. Gays in my time were a plot twist, a side note, or a thing you translated as “cousins”. So yes, I’m combative.

The server is also forgetting that many times this combative behavior has helped me and them. Or how many times my response came out of provocation. Once when dealing with a horrible troll that was taking screenshots out of our server, creating unnecessary drama and targeting another rper. And another time when I went to the admin asking him to remove a very aggressive roleplayer in the past (who took everything literally and made every single discussion about them). The first time I had to close the server because I was not going to have someone like that. The second time I was told by the admin that they were onto “doing something.” I don’t know if they did or not, but the rper left on their own hand.

Same thing when I was the admin of the server: I had to be there, settle a bunch of discussions and arguments directly with the individuals starting them, from having to face the “selfie leak” (where people were posting their nudes) and the “actor leaks” (where people were posting actors leaks) as well as facing some racist and misogynistic roleplayers. To do all that, I needed that “combative” spirit in order to get down to the bottom of things and set things on their right place for the good of everyone. So yeah, my combative behavior has helped me and has, to a degree, helped the server.

I will admit that I’m aggressive. But I will also admit that I’m not stupid or rigid. When conversing with others and expressing their needs I’m the first one to adjust to their needs as best as I can. And that when being told that I need to correct something, I can do it (as long as within my limits, of course). And when admitting mistakes, I’m also the first one to do it. (Hence the reason to this post). That said: I think I was unjustly banned. I was not given a direct warning and I was blindsided. But I will not go down the rabbit hole of “conspiracy”, it this is true then to each their own.

The combative behavior is only half the problem and that’s on me, I will admit it. But there is also another half of the problem that needs to be addressed.

The other part is the fact that some people just don’t have the skills to call someone up on their “problematic” behavior and instead gang up together and come from behind. The other part of the problem resides in people preferring to adjust others to their experience than to take control of their own comfort (I admit that blocking someone up in discord is difficult because you only see big blocks of text, but hey, you still have control over your experience).

The other part of the problem definitely lays on the fact that the admin didn’t warn me directly at all before the ban came. The times it was done indirectly were so subtle I did not notice and that there was no reason to have been made a show after the ban. (Because also, the server is forgetting the times they “teased” me for being “old” or liking certain things. How they were aggressive and I punched back in retaliation. Are they banning these players on “lack of respect and rudeness” too?)

So with this in mind, some things need to be done:

I apologize to anyone who had a hard time because of my opinions. I admit not seeing how my words could be aggressive and how my behavior probably hurt you. On that, I acknowledge my actions and I’m sorry for hurting you. Know that it was not personal and when it was, it was probably taken privately. That said I still believe that you should do what’s best for you and take matters into creating your own positive experience (like blocking someone you don’t wanna read). I admit that it may be difficult on a place like a public discord server, and for that I apologize as well.

I apologize to anyone who was scared or that I ignored last night. I am sorry, you deserved better. I had no mind to respond to you so that’s why I was evasive. I hope you can find in yourselves to understand where I was coming from and why I did evade you.

Thirdly I apologize to Alex, the main admin of the gay server. I do not believe you did right. I do not believe you did correctly and that I was unjustly banned, but I will give you that it was better for you this way. You avoided any confrontation and any aggression by not facing me or warning me directly, so I can’t blame you for doing what you did. I apologize to you for releasing the content of our conversations. I don’t think I released anything private, but still, that was petty AF of me. At this moment, I still think this was unjust, but maybe in a month or a year I will not even look back at this opinion or give it as much weight as I’m giving it now. So for now, this “hollow” apology is probably the best I can come up with.

That said, I am a firm believer of making my own experience as comfortable as it is for me, so:

I am now fully private, which means that I’m not taking threads from anyone that I don’t know or haven’t talked through in the past few months. I am sorry, but I don’t want to be open at this moment.

I am taking it slow. Very slow. So I am making a slow comeback. It’s not fair to those that played with me and had no bearings in the server matter, so that’s why I’m returning. But I’m gonna go as easy as I can.

There’s a big chance that I’m restricting myself from playing with anyone associated with that server. I know that this is my pettiness again. So, I’m going to put on hold the threads of the people that I know are in the server and ask myself of this rule in a week to see how I feel.

I am not exposing my opinion on tons of matters and it’s very likely that I will unfollow those blogs that I know do a lot of these commentaries. I’m also unfollowing rpers who do tons of OOC posts. My problem is that I’m a very reactive individual that when reading something that is BS or simply doesn’t sit right with me, I will speak up. I realize that yeah, not everybody wants to read my opinion, but also that there’s a lot of misinformed people that I enjoy correcting. So, for both of our sakes I am doing something there.

So, lesson learned?

It’s too early to call it that. And it’s too early to call an epiphany. But know that I will keep my truth as best as I can and I will focus on cherish the people that do love me and support me.

#el griton: ooc

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bat-losers-inc · 6 years

Text

Collisions in the Dark (Ch 16): Bad Bishop

Pairings: Tim Drake/Jason Todd (one sided)

Summary: With Jason gone, Tim’s living situation inside the manor becomes an unbearable affair as everything’s flipped on its head: suddenly he’s seeking out enemies and betraying friends. And the ever so persistent thought at the back of his head: what does that make Jason? Enemy or Ally?

Chapter Notes: Bad Bishop: A bishop whose movement is restricted by friendly pawns on its color squares. These friendly pawns are in turn restricted by enemy pawns or pieces, thereby being unable to vacate squares for the bishop.

“Everybody, it seems, is going or dying in this cold mean spring.” — “The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath”, Sylvia Plath

Tim stood in the backyard of the manor as the early morning sun struggled to rise above the manor’s brick wall. His boots crunched in the frosty grass as he shuffled his feet in an attempt to generate some warmth in his toes. Despite the chill of the autumn morning, the phone wedged in Tim’s coat pocket felt hot enough to burn a hole through the lining.

He’d gotten the text yesterday, late in the afternoon.

I hope you don’t think this is over, Detective. We’re very far from being finished.

An earlier self might have thought the idea of Ra’s texting him hilarious. As it was, however, all Tim could do in that moment was stare down at the screen in silent horror, before typing out a hasty reply.

I’m not playing this game.

Ra’s’ answer came smoothly a moment later.

Oh but you are.

It was only then when Tim’s shaking fingers hovered over the keys that he realized he shouldn't have responded at all. He couldn't help it. The only way he could rationalize an action so stupid was from an intense desire for Ra’s, and all of the issues that came with him, to just go away.

Tim had deleted the texts from his phone and blocked the number, but he knew that wouldn't be the end of it.

Far from it.

He clutched his phone in his hand, willing the trembling to stop.

He’d barely made it through dinner, force feeding himself small bites of food despite his sudden lack of an appetite.

Tim shivered and wrapped his coat tighter around his body. He flexed his hands inside the pockets of his coat, afraid that the trembling might start up again. It had been so hard to stop before.

If someone were to notice…

He was startled when the door banged open behind him. He turned to see Dick stumbling towards him, hissing curses as his bare feet made contact with the icy lawn.

“You scared the shit out of me when I didn't find you in your room. Jesus, Tim. What the hell are you doing standing out here?”

Tim shrugged a shoulder. “Couldn't sleep.”

Dick threw him an exasperated look before motioning for Tim to follow him inside. Tim complied. It was easier to go along with his family’s not-so-subtle attempts at watching his every move. They switched off every day or so and but Dick was always on morning duty since he was the earliest riser in the household. He supposed it could be worse. He could be stuck with Damian and his intrusive questions.

Dick sat on the edge of the couch, rubbing warmth into his bare feet as Tim stood behind the couch shedding his coat and boots.

Tim looked towards the kitchen. “Has anyone made coffee yet?”

Dick shook his head. “We’re the first ones up. Alfred’s at the store.”

“Right. I'll go start a pot.”

Dick followed him into the kitchen and watched Tim as he scooped out coffee grounds and filled the machine with tap water.

Tim sighed and turned towards Dick. “Whatever you want to say, just say it.”

Dick propped his hand against his fist. “So, you’re not sleeping?”

“Could you blame me?” asked Tim.

“No.” Dick grunted. “Is there anything I could do to help?”

“Doubt it. I'm beginning to realize that the best thing I can do is keep my mind occupied.”

“If that’s what you think you need to do, then that’s what you gotta do.”

He paused.

“I talked to Bruce last night. He said you can patrol with Cass and Steph tonight… if you’re up to it, that is.”

Tim made a noise low in his throat. “Group patrol? Haven't done that since I was starting out as Robin.”

“Numbers are your friend right now, Tim.”

Tim threaded a hand through the hair at the back of his head. “Yeah, no. I know.”

“I think it’ll be good for you. Some sense of normalcy, right?”

Normal. Tim didn’t know the meaning of the word anymore. If Tim thought that his first days back home had been awkward and tense, the days following Jason’s departure had been exponentially worse. He meant what he’d said to Dick. The only thing that was saving him from curling up under the blankets and telling the world to go fuck itself without him was his work. He took on his family’s cases, using his insomnia for some good. He had a feeling if he hadn’t he would have lost his mind a lot sooner with the only thing to occupy his attention being tracking the slow progress of time, watching the moonlight creep slowly across his bedroom wall.

He threw himself into his work… and not just the cases. He spent just as much time on his own project, in other words, his burning desire to end this cat and mouse game that he was playing with Ra’s. For good.

After all, what else did he have at this point?

He pulled every file on Ra’s that he could find, sorted out Ra’s’ allies and enemies, and worked on making those enemies indebted to him once every other strategy had been exhausted.

The enemy of my enemy is my friend, thought Tim, and like Dick had been telling him, he was sorely in need of some friends at the moment. He didn’t dare involve any of the members of the Young Justice or the Titans. Perhaps the only one he would ever consider would be Connor. Except Connor wasn’t around to protect him anymore.

He hadn’t been aware of how far his thoughts had wandered until he heard Dick calling his name.

“Tim?”

Tim shook his head, as if to knock his thoughts back to the here and now.

He forced his lips up into a weak smile he didn’t feel and replied, “Right. Yeah, tell them I’ll go.”

Dick smiled. Tim thought it might have been the first sincere one he’d seen in awhile. It was different than those pitying ones he’d been getting from everyone for the past couple of days… like Dick believed that Tim was taking the first step in the right direction… back to his old self.

It didn’t make Tim feel any less uneasy.

“Better go dust off that uniform for tonight.” Dick clapped him on the back.

Tim brushed his fingertips over the recent patch job on his Red Robin suit, Alfred’s handiwork present in the neat line of stitches. He smoothed the fabric of the suit down against the shelf it was laid atop. The same shelf that Tim had discarded his uniform on before starting out on his mission.

With his eyes, Tim found the remaining parts of his suit.

He paused, looking it all over. Curiously, Tim riffled through the shelves positioned around the showers. There was a chance that Bruce would have anonymously dropped it off at the nearest police station, or given it to Dick to do it for him. But if Alfred got to it first, it had probably just been stashed away until it could be discreetly handed back to its rightful owner.

And there it was, stuffed under an unopened package of ace bandages. He guessed Alfred hadn’t gotten the chance to return it.

Jason’s gun, tucked into the the thigh holster he’d given Tim that night before they found themselves in an alleyway with a dead man at their feet.

Tim’s fingers hesitated over it. He was almost certain that Jason wouldn’t want him to have it.

He rested his fingers on top of the cold metal for a moment, debating with himself, before taking it into his had. After a few seconds the gun didn’t feel so cold anymore, the steel warmed by the heat of his hand. It felt heavy in a reassuring way, like the promise of protection crafted out of steel.

Holding it out in front of him, Tim felt safer than he had in awhile. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, trying to hold that feeling in for as long as possible.

Ra’s’ message came back to him. We’re very far from finished.

Tim disagreed. He planned on ending this once and for all.

He tucked the gun into the middle of his folded uniform and took the pile of clothing and gear under his arm. Making his way out of the cave, he thought to himself, I meant what I said. I’m not playing your game, Ra’s. Tonight’s the night that I prove that to you.

As to be expected, Tim tried to ditch Stephanie and Cass the first opportunity he got. They were surprisingly hard to lose, and it took no less than ten minutes before they were climbing in through the smashed window of Jason’s apartment after him.

Tim stood in the middle of the living room with his back to them. Steph approached him slowly, her boots crunching with each step she took on the glass strewn floor.

“Did you come here looking for Jason?”

Tim looked around the damaged room. “I don’t know.”

He really didn’t. Whether he’d come here alone with the hope that it would lure Ra’s into a trap or in the hope that he might find Jason there, he couldn’t say for sure. His head was a mess at the moment. In any case, Ra’s hadn’t taken the bait and Jason’s gun rested useless in one of the pockets of his utility belt.

Tim made his way carefully over to Jason’s bedroom. Jason’s bed was a mess of untucked sheets, the comforter thrown to the end of the bed.

Tim picked up a rumpled t-shirt, discarded on the bed.

“He just needs some space to think, Tim.” continued Steph. She had followed him here too, but stopped warily in the doorway, as if sensing that this was a space she wasn’t privy to. “I’m sure when he’s ready to talk, he’ll come find you.”

Tim turned to look at her over one shoulder. “This is going to sound incredibly rude, but at the moment I’m honestly too exhausted to mince words.”

Steph tucked her arms across her chest. “Just say it, Tim. You won’t hurt my feelings.”

“I know that you think you’re helping me by ‘being there for me’ and all that shit, but if I have to spend one more minute talking about my ‘feelings’, I’m going to start hurting people. I know it makes all of you feel like you’re actually helping me through this, but the truth is you’re wasting my time and my patience. I don’t need to ‘talk’. I don’t need a hug. I need space to myself and a way to stop Ra’s. Feel free to pass that on when you have your next family meeting to discuss my mental state.”

Despite her bold words before, Tim could sense that he’d struck a harsh blow. He didn’t mean to lash out at her, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel bad enough to apologize for his words.

Steph pressed her lips together and nodded stiffly.

“Sure. I’ll give you some time to yourself.”

Tim waited until she closed the door behind her before he sat down on the edge of Jason’s bed. He fisted his hands tightly into the soft material of Jason’s t-shirt and brought it up to his face, breathing deeply.

The faint smell of citrus greeted him, perhaps leftover residue from Jason’s body wash. It was far from the smell of sweaty sheets Tim remembered from his first night with Jason or the crisp smell of dried out grass from that night they’d laid together in that field. This was a foreign scent, a version of Jason before Tim.

Tim pulled his face free of the soft material, now partially damp from where it had made contact with his watery eyes. He smoothed out the wrinkles his fingers had made in the material and folded the shirt up neatly, unzipping his suit partially until he could shove it in.

When he opened the bedroom door he found Steph waiting just outside. Cass turned away from the bank of windows where she’d been keeping an eye out for signs of trouble.

“You know we’re going to have to bring you back after pulling a stunt like this.” she told him, moving further into the room.

“You don’t have to call it in,” said Tim. “We weren’t gone long. It can be explained away. If we get our stories straight— ”

“I already called it in,” said Cass. “This was a trial run, Tim. You failed.”

Tim stared at her in a new light.

“I thought you were different, Cass. I thought you understood that I needed space—”

“I do, Tim. But there’s a difference between being alone at the manor and being alone on patrol. Stunts like this on patrol could get you killed. I care about you too much to allow that to happen.”

Why did it suddenly feel like everyone was ganging up on him? It felt like he was reliving Bruce’s death all over again… back when Dick and everyone else thought he was crazy. Ra’s had been the only one who’d believed him back then.

“I don’t need this family’s approval to keep patrolling.” he stated defensively.

“It’s too dangerous for you to patrol solo.” said Steph.

Tim met each of their eyes individually. Yes, he could see it in their eyes. They remember how they left me vulnerable to Ra’s’ persuasion before. They won’t let that happen again. I’m as much a prisoner here as I was with Ra’s. I just swapped one cell for another.

He looked down at his boots, taking the opportunity once again to molded his face into something that would please them.

When he glanced back up his expression was disheartened… unthreatening.

“Alright,” he nodded. “Let’s head back.”

He spared one last glance around Jason’s apartment before he climbed out the window.

“One week on monitor duty.” Bruce glared at him once they’d returned to the manor, his Batman cowl held between his palms. Whatever he’d been saying before that— probably the same drawn out sermon about Tim’s responsibility to take better care of himself— Tim had tuned it out.

He’d nodded and taken his punishment like he was grateful to be given even that much. Tim became their eyes and ears while on patrol. He performed the job so well that they didn’t even think to question his desire to be there.

Tim slipped the comm off of his ear and let it fall onto the desk. The voice on the other end was still audible, calling out his name.

Tim ignored it, instead he grabbed the backpack at his feet and pulled it onto his back. The keys and helmet for Dick’s bike were waiting next to the monitor. He snatched them up as he made his way over towards the bike.

We need to meet.

Tim typed the message into his phone before sliding it back into his jacket. He smiled and flipped the helmet’s visor down over his eyes, racing out of the cave.

#collisions in the dark #JayTim #Tim Drake #Jason Todd #Jason Todd/Tim Drake #batman fic #fanfic #batman comics #batman fanfic #dick grayson #bruce wayne #cassandra cain #Stephanie Brown #Ra's al Ghul #Damian Wayne

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