#interior doors dc

[katanra]

Mediterranean Wine Cellar - Large

Large, multicolored Mediterranean floor wine cellar idea

[batboyblog]

Things the Biden-Harris Administration Did This Week #35

Sep 20-27 2024

President Biden and Vice-President Harris announced new actions to curb gun violence at the one year anniversary of the White House Office of Gun Violence Prevention. The Office is the first ever White House office to deal with the issue of guns and has been overseen by the Vice-President. President Biden signed a new Executive Order aimed at combatting the emerging threat of machinegun conversion devices. These devices allow the conversion of semi-automatic firearms to a rate of fire that can match military machineguns, up to 20 bullets in one second. The EO also targets the threat of 3-D printed guns. The EO also addresses active schooler drills at schools. While almost every school conducts them there is little uniformity in how they are carried out, and no consensus on the most effective version of a drill. President Biden's EO directions the development of a research based active shooter drills, which maximize both student physical and mental safety.

President Biden celebrated the one year anniversary of the American Climate Corps and announced new Climate Corp programs. The Climate Corps has seen 15,000 young people connected to well paid jobs in clean energy and climate resilience jobs across America. The EPA and AmeriCorps announced a new Environmental Justice Climate Corps program which will connect 250 American Climate Corps members with local communities and over the next 3 help them achieve environmental justice projects. In addition HUD announced it will be the 8th federal agency to partner with the Climate Corp, opening the door to its involvement in Housing. Since its launch the American Climate Corp has inspired 14 states to launch their own state level version of the program, most recently just this week the New Jersey Climate Corps.

The Biden-Harris Administration announced that 4.2 million small business owners and self-employed people get their health insurance through the ACA marketplace. Up from 1.4 million ten years ago when President Obama and then Vice-President Biden rolled out the marketplaces. The self-employed are 3 times as likely as other Americans to use the marketplaces for their insurance, one out of every 5 getting coverage there. The ACA passed by President Obama, defended and expanded by President Biden, has freed millions of Americans to start their own businesses without fear of losing health coverage for them and their families.

The Departments of Transportation and Labor pressed freight railroad companies to close the gap and offer paid sick time to all their employees. Since 2022 under President Biden's leadership the number of Class I freight railroad employees who have access to paid sick days increased from 5% to 90%. Now the Biden-Harris Administration is pushing to finish the job and get coverage to the last 10%.

The EPA announced $965 million to help school districts buy clean energy buses. This comes on top of the 3 billion the EPA has already spent to bring clean energy buses to America's schools. So far the EPA has helped replace 8,700 school buses, across 1,300 school districts in all 50 states, DC, tribal nations, and US Territories. 95% of these buses are zero-emission, battery-electric. The clean bus program is responsible for over 2/3rds of the electric school buses on the road today.

The Biden-Harris Administration took another step forward in its historic efforts to protect the Colorado River System by signing 5 water conservation agreements with local water authorities in California and Arizona. The two short term agreements will conserve over 717,000 acre-feet of water by 2026. Collectively adding 10 feet to Lake Mead’s elevation by 2026. The Colorado River Basin provides water for more than 40 million people and fuels hydropower resources in seven U.S. states.

The Department of The Interior announced $254 million to help support local parks, the largest such investment in history. The money will go to 54 projects across 24 states hoping to redevelopment or create new parks.

HHS announced $1.5 billion to help combat opioid addiction and prevent opioid overdose deaths. The money will support state and tribal governments and help pay for mobile clinics, naloxone kits, and treatment centers. This comes as nationwide overdose rates drop for the first time since 2020, thanks to strong investment in harm reduction efforts by the Biden-Harris team.

The Department of Agriculture announced it'll spend $466.5 million in food assistance and development worldwide this year. Through its McGovern-Dole Program, the United States is the largest donor to global school feeding programs. The USDA will help feed 1.2 million children in Angola, Bangladesh, El Salvador, Ethiopia, Guatemala, Guinea-Bissau, Laos, Malawi and Rwanda. Through its Food for Progress the USDA will help support 200,000 farmers in Benin, Cambodia, Madagascar, Rwanda, Sri Lanka, Tanzania and Tunisia shift to climate-smart agriculture boosting food security in those nations and the wider region.

At a meeting at the UN First Lady Jill Biden announced a partnership between USAID and UNICEF to end childhood exposer to lead worldwide. Lead exposure kills 1.5 million people each year, mostly in the developing world.

The Senate approved the appointment of Byron Conway to a federal judgeship in Wisconsin. This makes the 213th federal judge that President Biden has appointed.

[a-leg-without-fear]

Insomnia🩸🌧️

some lore for vampire!!!

Ship: Logan Howlett x Mutant!Fem!Reader🩸

Rating: 16+

Wordcount: 2.0k

Warnings: angst, nightmares, PTSD struggles, cursing, alcohol mention, Logan is a Flirt (i guess?)

Series: Leg's Tuna Tober

You woke with a start. Heart pounding against your ribs so hard you swore they would crack. Sweat dripped down your forehead and the back of your neck. The pale blue sheets draped across your bed were tangled with every limb they could wrap around.

Wooden walls and antique furniture met your frantic gaze as your eyes darted around the room. Your room. In Charles Xavier's mansion. Where you'd lived for several decades at this point.

The concrete walls of your cell in Washington, DC were a thing of the past. Rust-colored blood stains splashed across the floors, slivers of light leaking through the metal door, spiders making a home in the upper corners. You were free of that life.

So why did you still dream of it?

The muscles in your neck groaned as you sat up against your headboard. You were tense, anxiety oozing into your blood. Your head made a thunk when you let it fall back against the headboard.

Nightmares weren't a foreign concept to you. Almost every night, your mind would be filled with your past. Flashes of pain and terror and blood. Scenes replaying over and over, night after night, tormenting you with long claws digging into your mind and scratching your sanity away.

You needed to walk. To clear your head, to calm your pulse.

Unwinding your legs from the sheets was like pulling the limbs from a nest of angry snakes. You tugged at the fabric in near desperation. It clung to your clammy skin, restricting you, restraining you, keeping you captive.

Breathe.

The memory of Charles's calming voice gave you pause. Your eyes fell closed, a deep breath filling your strained lungs. Air blew from your pursed lips as you released the tension from your shoulders.

You were safe. Nothing could hurt you here. Your friends were here, your kids were here, the life you'd built with bloodied fingernails was here. Scott, Jean, Ororo, and Charles would never let anything happen to you.

Now that the shaking in your fingers had subsided, it was quick work to pull your sheets away. The damp fabric fell away like clouds on a windy day. You pushed yourself to your feet. A tremble ran up your legs, unsteady feet finding purchase on the hardwood floor. You gave yourself a few moments to find your balance.

The cold of the untouched floor seeped into the balls of your feet, grounding you. Bringing you back to the present. You were in the mansion. You were safe. The mantra repeated in your mind as you scooped up your sweatshirt from the end of your bed.

Grey cotton filled your hands. Soft, comfortable, familiar. You wore this sweatshirt nearly every day. Finding solace among the plush fabric that shielded you from your own mind. The fleece interior tickled along your arms as you pulled it on. Like securing a piece of armor, you tugged at the zipper until you were completely encompassed.

You made for the bedroom door as you pulled up the hood. Fabric cradled your head, acting like horse blinders and centering your focus, while your fingers wrapped around the brass knob. Cold metal caressed your palm like a frozen kiss.

Another strained breath forced itself through your lips as you pulled open the door. Empty halls decorated in plush carpets, large vases, and dimmed sconces met your tired eyes. All of the wooden doors lining the hall were shut tight. Made sense, given it was the middle of the night.

Bare feet padded along the patterned carpet as you walked. You kept your focus zeroed in on the design woven into the fibers. Spiraling leaves and floating flowers chased each other across the artwork. Faded reds and golds braided amongst one another. You remembered buying this particular rug. In spring of 1983, when you and Charles had been decorating the mansion together.

The fond memory of your shopping spree with your closest friend kept your thoughts comfortable. You clung to the feeling, holding it close to your chest, as you followed the routine path to your destination. Framed paintings of stretched landscapes passed in your periphery not covered by your sweatshirt's hood.

Moonlight shone in gentle rays through the balcony's glass doors. Silver bounced off the polished hardwood and gave the surrounding space a comforting glow. You grabbed one of the iron door handles and pushed out into the night air.

It was cold. Nearly biting, the breeze blowing across your face in brief nips over your sensitive skin. Barren trees spotted along the vast lawns of the mansion. Just barely green grass flowed in an ocean of waving blades under the moonlight. The empty duck pond was still, the water calm, where it sat far off to your right.

Directly beneath the balcony was the dried-up vegetable garden Jean liked to maintain. The tomato plants had withered earlier in the month, with the green beans and peas following closely after. Winters in New York were not to be trifled with when it came to gardening.

You leaned against the metal railing. Chilled metal dug into the fabric of your sweatshirt and leeched the cold into your skin. Though, it wasn't uncomfortable. It was grounding. A reminder of where you called home now.

There was a special sort of peace to be found on this balcony. Especially since during the colder months, it often went untouched. The small table and chair off to your left remained vacant for the vast majority of fall and winter. Not many students preferred the view from the balcony over the comfort of the common areas.

Crisp air filled your lungs as you took in your first deep breath. It poured down your throat like cool water, pooling in your chest and spreading through your body. Tendrils of gentle water ran under your skin. Telling you that you were safe, that you were home, that you were loved. The night air often was the exact thing you'd needed to calm your mind.

It seemed easy to forget your past, now that the comforting chill coursed through your body. Days spent locked away from the world were distant memories. Like glimpses of another life through a thick fog. Flashes of chains and blood were tucked safely away behind a wall of moonlight.

"Mind if I join you?"

You spun on your heel to face this intrusion. This brutal slash through the comforting silence you'd so carefully cultivated.

Logan stood in the open doorway. Sweatshirt that matched yours clinging to his chest, jeans hung low on his waist, dark hair styled in those two points that reminded you of cat ears. A playful smirk tugged at his lips.

"Why?" was all that could escape your throat in your startled state. Your palms dug into the rail as you squeezed at the metal behind you.

The smirk remained firmly in place as Logan sauntered through the doorway. His hands were clutched behind his back, the top of his sweatshirt unzipped to expose his bare chest, hazel eyes catching in the moonlight as he looked at you with faint curiosity.

"Figured you could use some company, seeing's as you're out here on your own an' all," he replied easily. He kept a healthy distance from you as he approached. Long fingers trailed over the table's surface, dragging freshly-formed drops of dew in their wake.

You chuckled lightly in an attempt to mask your wariness, "Trying to make friends on your first day?"

"Something like that," he said softly, stepping up next to you near the railing. Thick arms rested on the iron as Logan mimicked your earlier position. One leg crossed over the other, chest leaning on bent elbows, half-lidded eyes surveying the landscape.

Mirroring him, you turned back to the vegetable garden. Wooden stakes jutted up from the earth like small saplings. Dry brush and long-rotted vegetables lay strewn inside the dirt beds.

An easy silence rested between you, disturbed only by the wind rustling the barren branches of nearby trees. Undeniable warmth spread from the man next to you. Like he was a furnace placed on the balcony to make anyone taking in the view nice and cozy. You could nearly feel the heat spreading from his arms and into the railing beneath you.

"You get nightmares too, huh?" Logan finally asked after several quiet minutes. It wasn't unkind, the way he phrased the question. It was more curious. An offering of relation between the two of you.

"Most nights," you answered simply. A low hum of recognition rumbled deep in his chest.

"Every night, for me. Can never remember them, though," he said with a sigh. You noticed the repetitive tap of his pointer finger on the back of his hand. Nervous tick, maybe.

"Seems we're both pretty fucked up," you joked in an attempt to lighten the mood. Logan barked a quiet laugh.

"You could say that again."

The kinship you felt with him was like nothing you'd ever felt before. From what Jean had discovered earlier, Logan couldn't age. Neither could you. Logan had a troubled past he couldn't fully remember. You had a troubled past, but one you remembered all too well. Logan was the product of experimentation and years of heartache. You were the result of decades under the thumb of the U.S. government, forced to torture POWs during WWII.

Maybe there was finally someone who could understand you. Understand what you've been through.

Charles did the best he could. He was the only one in the mansion anywhere near as old as you. Unfortunately, you still had 27 years on the great Professor X.

"Do they have alcohol in this place?" Logan grumbled with a tired groan. His head fell to rest on his forearms. You couldn't help but laugh.

"Not readily available to newcomers, bud. Play your cards right and you may be shown the secret stash," you said with a dramatic whisper. Logan's shoulders shook with a chuckle, shaking his head where it laid on his arms.

"And what cards would those be? We talkin' blackjack, poker, or go fish?" he replied as he straightened his back. Hazel eyes connected with your own. A spark of familiarity flashed in your mind.

Conversation flowed so damn easily with Logan. It was like talking to your reflection. A male, ruggedly handsome, 6'2" without shoes reflection. The sense of relaxation you felt around this man you'd met this morning wasn't a fact to be taken lightly.

Was this part of his mutation? Getting others to trust him? It wouldn't be too far out of left field. Hell, you could pop people like balloons with your mutation. Manipulating others' emotions wasn't that strange of an idea.

"Y'alright, doll? Suddenly got quiet," Logan asked softly, breaking you away from your swirling thoughts.

"Yeah. I'm fine. Sorry, I just... Zone out sometimes," you explained quickly in one breath.

You jumped as a warm hand landed on your shoulder. Strong, heat bleeding from the large palm into your skin. An involuntary shiver rocketed up your spine.

"Seems like I ain't the only one needing a drink," Logan said with a small smile. The effortless kinship that emanated from him was nearly intoxicating. Reeling you in on an invisible fishing line. Clouding your judgement with a haze of quickly developing trust.

You should pull away. Nothing good could come from falling into friendship this fast. Decades of being a mutant had taught you that intentions weren't always what they'd seemed. A person could be offering you a hand only to shove you into oncoming traffic.

"Know what? A drink sounds great right now," you murmured as you stepped back. Logan's hand fell from your shoulder like a dead weight. You turned on your heel to lead him inside.

Maybe if you pumped this guy full of liquor, you'd be able to tell where his head was at. Why was he being so nice to you? Especially after you'd heard how he'd acted around Scott? You hugged your rapidly chilling sweatshirt closer to your body.

Logan Howlett. "The Wolverine." You'd get to the heart of what made him tick soon enough.

and she doooooes >:) i LOVE my babies so much. exploring their relationship in its entirety is SO FUCKING FUN!!!

taglist: @ripleyswife @just-a-nightdreamer @venomqueen2002 @www-interludeshadow-com @c1eepypas1a

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[sunflowers4life]

Marauders - Moving In

i'll probably do a second part, but lemme know if you wanna see it. I haven't really got to explore Remus in this one, so maybe more in the next one! hope you enjoy! warnings: mention of Y/N, female reader descriptions

pairing: marauders x reader (slow burn)

part 2 part 3

Sitting on your parents couch, you scrolled through craigslist, desperate to find a roommate. God you were sick of being in your parents house. It’s not that you didn’t love them, no, but after a while you began to crave the independence that only being away from home can give you, and distance makes the heart grow fonder. Which is when you finally came along one post. The apartment was only a little bits away, and had 3 roommates looking for a 4th. Viewing the profile that posted the listing, you noted the boy's name was James, and he had 2 roommates, Sirius and Remus. 

Tossing it up in your head, you realised you were desperate enough, and quickly sent a text to the number listed. Within the minute, he responded, requesting to meet at a diner nearby tomorrow to confirm, in his words “you weren’t a 75 year old weirdo.” You agree to be fair, what if this guy was some creep? It was set, tomorrow night, at 5:00, you would meet James and Remus, as according to James, Sirius was busy with a gig. 

So that's where you are now. Standing outside of this retro themed dinner, its bright red exterior and interior makes you wonder why you had never found this place by yourself. Entering, you were escorted to a booth in the corner, the waitress had told you were the first to arrive. So you sat, for 10 minutes, before the little above the door rung, and you looked up at 2 boys, one quite a bit taller than the other. The waitress smiled, and pointed them towards your location, and suddenly you felt nervous. They were both quite attractive, and you began to consider maybe you should have dressed better. 

‘Y/N? Hi, it’s nice to meet you! I’m James, and this is Remus.” James, you noted, had curly brown hair, with round glasses, and was wearing a red button up shirt, but the first 3 buttons were undone. Your gaze then turned to Remus, who towered over you, and you noted the small scars on his face, before deciding to ignore them. He was wearing a super comfy sweater, that was dark browns and greens. Quickly, you cleared your throat. “Hi! It’s nice to meet you both!” You quickly offered your hand to the two, and they scooted into the both. The three of you ordered burgers, and each got a milkshake. James maintained the most of the conversation, you noted Remus appeared a bit nervous, and you noted the closeness of the two.

“Now, we would love to have you move into our apartment, but we just have on warning to give.” You tilted your head slightly, this meeting had gone great, James was charismatic, Remus was kind enough if a bit silent, but you assumed that was just a new person thing. “The three of us, me, Remus and Sirius, are in a relationship. I completely understand if you are uncomfortable, but we really enjoyed talking to you and you seem like a great fit.” You laughed a little, before stating you had no problem, and to be honest, you really just needed to get a space to live. So it was settled, you would move in within the week. 

You bought only the basics, as they said they already had a double bed for you, so you decided you would move in any other furniture later. Quickly approaching the door, you knocked, before being met with a head of ruly black hair. “Hey! You must be Y/N! James, she’s here!” You could hear a yell, a trip, before you saw James enter the room. Sirius was almost exclusively decked out in leather, the jacket and his pants being completely black. Finally, his t-shirt featured an AC DC decal. James quickly ran over to the door, offering to grab the box in your hands. 

Quickly shuffling you inside of the apartment, they lead you to your room. It was bare, of course, but you noted the desk in the corner, and the bed under the window, pushed up against the wall, making almost half of the room your bed. “So, Y/N, tell me, what music do you enjoy?” You quickly turned around, being pulled out of your own world, and realising Sirius had followed you in. “Uh… Rock and pop, I guess.” You watched a cocky smile appear on his face, the lip piercing moving upwards. “Sick! I play in a rock band, and we are performing at a pub tonight. Would you wanna come watch? James and Remus will be coming as well, and as our roommates, we gotta make sure you know what we do, you know?” 

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t wanna impose.” Sirius quickly grabbed you by the shoulders, shaking you lightly. “You're kidding, right? You literally live with us now, I mean, we’ll essentially be sharing a bathroom, you could never impose by watching me do what I love!” You guessed that was true, so you unpacked the boxes you bought, which held all your clothes, and the bare necessities, such as your toothbrush, sheets, hairbrush etc. Unpacking was fun, seeing all the clothes you had forgotten you’d bought, considering what to wear to the pub. 

Deciding on a dress, a deep red, somewhat short, laying a leather jacket above it, with some doc martens, you were ready for what would hopefully be a fun night.

[girlkisser13]

ares cabin headcanons

children of ares

• it’s more difficult to break a weapon in a child of war’s hand (with the exception being if someone was a child of the big three).

• they can pull of any shade of red.

• camo EVERYTHING. they just have a weird obsession with camo.

• a lot of them obsessively collect sneakers.

• they have nicknames/call signs for all their members, they don't choose one when they join, it'll be given to them sooner or later.

• leather jackets, military boots, aviators, chains, chokers and metal rings are the norm.

• there's always that one kid that likes to show off their butterfly knife tricks. (i’m sorry if that’s you.)

• every one of them has a scar somewhere, usually they got it even before they came to camp. they treat scars like tattoos—the bigger and more obvious they are, the more badass they are.

• all the armies on the loosing side are forced to serve them and their father so they can summon them at a time of battle and increase their power by invoking their father’s powers.

• they’re the best fighters in camp, but that doesn't mean all they have is physical strength.

• they have the strength to stand their ground and defend a point that is so strongly that many of them become outstanding politicians.

• they don't just teach people how to fight monsters, but they also basic self-defence for anyone who feels unsafe in the city.

• the tradition of capture the flag initially started as a dispute between the ares and athena cabin, with the other camps joining one of the two.

• it has always been a ceremony for the two cabins to always be against each other.

• they all have excellent posture because they’re always training, so they’re always wearing breastplates. (i’m assume breastplates improve your posture the same way corsets do).

• rumor has it there's an underground fight club that's invite-only (but you didn't hear that from me).

•those who have a taken a vow of nonviolence run an anger management group for their siblings who want to gain a little more control.

cabin exterior

• the cabin has a rugged, fortress-like appearance, with sturdy stone walls that seem built to withstand a siege. the front door is made of reinforced steel, adorned with battle scars and dents.

• it also has heavy punk rock aesthetics, which is ironic considering how much discipline is enforced within its members.

• various weapons, such as swords, spears, and shields, are displayed prominently on the walls, either as decoration or trophies from past battles. some are enchanted to glow faintly, adding an aura of intimidation.

• the cabin is adorned with tattered banners and flags, each representing a different battle or conquest. the ares symbol, a wild boar or a spear, is prominently displayed.

• the walls are covered in graffiti and markings made by the cabin members, depicting their victories, names, and personal symbols. these give the cabin a rough, lived-in look.

• the cabin itself might show signs of past conflicts, with scorch marks, cracks, and patched-up sections that hint at the intensity of the cabin's training sessions and disputes.

• at the entrance, there are statues of ares himself, standing guard and setting the tone for those who enter.

• the stuffed boar head at the front of the cabin acts as a surveillance system, it’s enchanted to squeal when there are intruders.

cabin interior

• the cabin has a minimalist, utilitarian design, with few decorations and a focus on functionality. the beds are simple, sturdy cots, and personal belongings are kept to a minimum.

• the bunks are arranged in a regimented, military style, with each camper's area neatly organized. personal spaces include a footlocker for storing gear and a small, sturdy nightstand.

• ac/dc is constantly playing in the background?

• every available wall space is utilized for weapon racks and shelves, holding an array of swords, spears, axes, and shields.

• the cabin has an area dedicated to training, with punching bags, weights, and practice dummies. there is even be a small sparring ring in one corner for indoor practice.

• various trophies from past battles and quests are displayed inside the cabin, including weapons, monster teeth, claws, and other memorabilia. these serve as a testament to the cabin's prowess in combat.

• large maps detailing various battlefields and strategic locations are pinned to the walls. they have markers and notes, reflecting ongoing planning and strategies.

• the interior features rough, durable materials like stone and wood, designed to withstand heavy use and combat-related activities. the floors are covered in animal skins and thick, worn rugs.

cabin traditions

• for every child of war that has died in battle, a spear bearing their name is placed on the roof of the cabin.

• they have a ritual where members show off their battle scars and share stories of how they got them, celebrating their bravery and toughness.

• they have regular evenings dedicated to cleaning, sharpening, and maintaining their weapons and armor, often accompanied by storytelling or strategizing.

• they have CONSTANT meetings where they plan strategies for capture the flag and other camp activities, often held in a militaristic fashion with a focus on tactics and leadership.

• they have regular sparring sessions where they challenge each other to friendly duels to improve their skills and rank within the cabin.

• before major events like capture the flag, they paint their faces and arms with war paint as a symbol of their readiness for battle and to intimidate their opponents.

divider by @sunkupng

[redflagshipwriter]

Reassembly 1

Masterpost

inspired by the iconic DC/marvel crossover Dark Matter that was actually the only reason I started reading DC (so if you like my DC stuff, Mystery Cyclone is who you have to thank)

The first thing that Peter registered was pain. His whole body felt like an electrical burn.

It was a relief to be in bone splitting pain, for about an instant. That was enough time for Peter to joyously process,  'I'm alive?' It came with a flood of endorphins. Holy cow, he was alive! How had Mr. Stark saved him? Did they win after all?

That next instant was when he fully processed the pain he was in. His whole body was burning cold. He opened his mouth to scream and he inhaled a viscous, sour liquid. He choked on it, hands flying to his throat. He opened his eyes and everything was filtered through a shadowy green. He couldn't see anything but green. He felt panic and it didn’t feel natural.

It didn't take Peter long to regret opening his eyes. It burnt. He gasped again despite knowing he wasn't going to get air. He closed them again but it didn’t help anything.

'I'm drowning! I'm drowning? Why am I drowning!?' 

When did he get in the water??? The last thing he remembered was being on Titan! Titan wasn't notably wet! 

It didn't matter, he could figure that out later. He swam. He only moved a little before he hit something. Peter flung his hands up flat against something hard, smooth, and cool. It felt like glass. He felt like a wild thing, feral and desperate. There was a light show behind his eyelids– or maybe an electric light was flickering madly a few moments before it died, casting him further into darkness.

'I'm going to make a mess.'

His hindbrain was running the show, so the guilty thought was just background noise as he made fists and banged on what he really hoped was glass. It broke.

He expected the glass to shatter or something and the water to all rush out in a dramatic wave. Instead, he felt it sort of collapse away from his hands and he distantly heard the glug of draining water filtered through the burning liquid all around him. 

It still hurt, everything hurt. He had to get out! He hit the glass again in desperation. This time it broke more dramatically. Water rushed out with enough force to dash Peter against the broken glass. 

It knocked the air out of his lungs- but he didn't have air. So instead he violently heaved that horrible green jelly out in a dramatic spray. He heard it hit what sounded like a hard surface.

And he heard screams. 

Peter's eyes flew open. He blinked rapidly and fought the urge to scrub at his face with his hands. The odds that he had small shards of glass on them was uncomfortably high. 

His spider sense switched on violently. His full body jerked. 

Holy shit. Leaving the tube had apparently been a very bad decision for his safety.

'What is this?'

He was in a dark room. The only light was coming in through the glass pane on the top half of a door. He stumbled towards it. His whole body was loosening with relief as the green slime sluiced off of him. 

The door was locked. Before he’d processed why it hadn’t opened Peter stupidly turned the handle a second time. Right. Of course. It was still locked. That was how locks worked.

It took a moment to think of what to do. 

He forced the door open. There was an ugly crack in the doorframe. He didn't look as he stumbled out into a hallway. It was white tiled, with off white walls and the long lines of fluorescent lights overhead. 

'I've been taken captive by someone who doesn't have an interior decorator.' 

It wasn't much, but it was a clue. Mr. Stark would be able to exclude a lot of villains with that information. Peter looked both ways, heart pounding. Where should he go? He had no idea where he was or what was going on. One end of the hallway was silent. The other had the sounds of a distant but desperate fight.

That was when he realized he was naked. Peter was standing in a hallway absolutely naked, and still wet with green goop soup. 

He turned away from the sounds of people. 

Instantly he felt guilty, but he was naked! Peter ran, wet feet slapping on the tile. It was absurd. It should have been funny. It wasn't. He felt frantic and halfway insane and he still hurt. 

'I hurt before, too,' he remembered. 'On Titan, everyone disappeared and then I hurt and I fell and Mr. Stark said-'

He shoved the thought deep, deep down before he became a gibbering wreck. Later. He'd think about it later. 

For now he threw open doors as he came across them. Most of them were locked. Peter threw open a door and then turned on the light.

It was a lab. There was a huge tube full of green liquid and a- 

"That's a body," Peter said, to himself. The words echoed. "That's a - that's a corpse." 

Horrible? Bad. Very bad. He flicked the light back off and kept running. He was suddenly very glad he had run away from the sounds of human voices. 

His brain tried to draw a mental connection between the green tube and where he woke up. He pushed that down and ran faster. His survival instincts were still in charge and they were screaming at him to leave. He was even more frantic now. He needed a door outside. He flung open a door, registered that it was full of clothes, and shut it. 

Then he remembered, 'Hey, I'm absolutely naked,' and opened it back up. 

It was full of clothes that were not suitable to wear in a lab. That made sense. Peter stared at a collection of jackets, skirts, and boxes of sandals. Right. People who worked here would have changed into long sleeves and full length pants when they got to work. 

'It must be hot outside now.'

It was not ideal. He grabbed a bright green zip-up jacket that smelt kinda dusty, a black pair of dress pants, and frantically shoved his feet into a few pairs of slip-on sandals until he found one that kinda fit. "Why don't women have bigger feet?" Peter wailed, heels hanging off the end. He pulled the jacket on as he ran and hopped his way into the pants. "Ned is going to give me so much shit," he panted. The thought made him feel better. The closest door led to a shitty changing room, with metal lockers. 

'Oh. Normal clothes that don't need to hang up would be in here.'

He froze, weighing how desperately he wanted to get out against how bad of a fit his current outfit was.

His Spidey sense didn't say the building was about to fall down this instant, so he decided to look for something better.

He started pulling on lockers frantically. Even if it wasn't immediate, he was in danger here. His spider sense was screaming it. That normally meant that he should run or duck or hide. Right now, he just knew it meant that he needed to get out of here and not get tracked back. That meant blending in. He needed to look normal, and a teenage boy in too-small sandals, dress pants, and a hi-vis jacket was not normal or inconspicuous.

He found one that hadn’t been properly locked and yanked it open. “Thank god,” Peter breathed, looking at men’s clothes. There was a slightly messy pile of T-shirts and rolled up socks at the bottom, a brown zip-up jacket, and two pairs of sweatpants. The holy grail was a pair of slightly worn white sneakers that looked his size. A quick check of the tag showed they were a half-size smaller than he’d buy. 

‘Thor is looking out for me,’ Peter decided. ‘This is actual godly intervention.’

He changed right there, sending up a silent apology to the mad scientist whose wardrobe he was raiding. White shoes, black sweatpants, brown zip-up hoodie (oh no, he was mixing warm and cool neutrals) and a plain white t-shirt looked a lot more natural on a teenager than what he’d grabbed at first. The outfit change took seconds. He stuffed the old outfit in the locker to hide it and impulsively decided that he might as well grab the bag that was hanging from the back. He was pretty sure the compound was being raided or something, so the guy was probably going to be too busy in jail to notice his missing stuff.

The next door led outside. He could smell fresh air. He nearly wept. 

First that was because freedom was close. When he shoved at the door, the temptation to cry was because it was a heavy metal door and didn't budge. 

Peter reeled back and looked around for a way to unlock it. The only thing he saw was a box with a card reader. You needed an ID badge to get in and out, then.

Or super strength. This wasn't going to be subtle. Peter busted the door down with only a smidge of regret and burst into what turned out to be cool night air. It smelled like the ocean and safety.

Alarms blared. 

"Okay," Peter said, "That sounds bad." 

He picked a random direction and bolted. He wasn't too far gone to notice the first street sign and numbered address on the building he passed. He'd need to know where he'd just escaped from later. Mr. Stark would know what to do about a creepy laboratory with bodies in tubes-

A body!  Not bodies, just one human corpse! He had been in a tube, yes, but. But.

Peter pushed down the impulse to scream. 

That was great, because it wasn't actually that late out. He passed a jogger with a reflective wristband and hi-vis jacket. She gave him a weird look in passing. 

'Because I look crazy sprinting by myself,' Peter processed. He needed to- did he need to put distance between him and the building or to blend in better? 

No one was actively following him. 

Peter swallowed hard. He forced himself to slow down to a brisk walk. He tried to look bored. He wished he had a phone to mess with. Oh. He unzipped the bag to check if there was one inside. There wasn’t, but there was a wallet.

He grimaced. Whoops. He’d look in that later. Maybe he could mail it back to the guy, if there was an ID in it. 

There wouldn't be like, cameras everywhere, right? If not, the most important thing was to not be memorable. He was pretty sure. That sounded like something the Black Widow would say. 

He ruffled his hair and realized it was drying in spikes. Peter grimaced at the feeling of whatever that stuff had been, drying. He wanted to shower immediately. 

He settled for not touching it. He walked and walked and realized that he didn't recognize anything. He wasn't in NYC. 

Well. Duh. He stared out at an unfamiliar city after sunset, dumbfounded. The last thing he remembered was being in outer space. He should just feel lucky to wake up on Earth at all. 

Okay. What was first? He sucked in deep breaths, struggling for calm. He needed to find out where he was. That was first, right? Then he needed to contact someone. Aunt May or Mr. Stark or- he had Happy's phone number memorized. Okay. Great. His heart rate started to slow a little. He knew lots of adults that could get him. 

It felt a little unreal to walk down the sidewalk past chattering civilians. Peter stared at people, not entirely sure why but feeling a little creeped out. 

'They're not scared or stressed. Everybody's acting like it's a normal day.'

It took a while for the realization to hit. 

'The invasion must be totally over.  Things have gone back to normal.' 

That should have been a relief. Instead, he felt a creeping tendril of fear. What had happened to him? How long had it been?

Okay. That question gave him a task. He needed to find the date. That was achievable. 

He started walking again with that mission in mind. Despite how bizarre his situation was, having a goal made him feel more stable. Sure, he didn’t know what had happened, but he knew how to gather information to make a plan. That plan was probably going to be ‘borrow a phone and call someone, or use a public computer to email someone.’ He just needed a little more information to make that happen. 

A thought occurred. Peter bit his lip and stole looks at the other people walking around. No, it couldn’t be. He hadn’t been asleep for a really long time, no way. People looked about the same. If anything, the fashion here was a little conservative and outdated. He eyed one young woman and was pretty sure Aunt May owned that exact top in another color.

To be fair, he was from New York City. Fashion started there and spread elsewhere, right?

It was fine. Everything was fine! He walked a little faster and wished he'd ended up somewhere that he knew. It would have been easier to get his bearings. He saw the name “Metropolis” on enough signboards to figure out that was the name of the area. 

‘That is weird,’ he thought, anxiety prodding at his nerves. He fiddled with the zipper on his jacket to have something to do with his hands. ‘I’ve never heard that city name before. And this is definitely a city. People have American accents here. Shouldn’t I know this city?’

Well. Maybe it was a suburb or something. Like, a subname, like how the boroughs were all part of NYC. He could be in like, California, or something and just not know the area well enough to recognize it. 

Peter finally found an electronic billboard with the date on it. Oh, shit. He stood open-mouthed for a long moment, watching the pixels appear and disappear in a ripple in between ads for a divorce lawyer and a jeweler.

It hadn't been long. It had been the opposite of a long time since the fight with Thanos. Or something? 

Peter knew he was reeling. He shoved his hands in his pockets and started running on the sidewalk just so that there was a reason for his breathing to be so heavy. Shoot. Shoot. His shoes were starting to pinch and his whole body felt itchy with panic.

The flashing billboard had displayed the date in the bottom left corner. According to that, he was 5 years in the past.

'How and why?'

That complicated things. Peter tried to make a mental map of what things were like five years ago. 

He couldn't go home. Not yet. He could – oh. Oh, Uncle Ben hadn't been shot yet. He reeled. He could- and Mr. Stark, this was around the time that Mr. Stark was kidnapped, wasn't it? He didn't remember exactly but maybe he could help. 

It was too much for him to process right now. He wanted to go home and hide. 

'I can't go home.' 

The thought hit him hard. His heart started to race.

If he went home- they'd think he was a stranger! Would Aunt May and Uncle Ben even recognize him this much older? 

'I think they'd want to help me. But they can't afford to feed me. I can't put that on them.' 

Guilt crawled into his throat with claws. Peter felt his eyes watering. He was so selfish. He had a chance to help people and save lives and he was busy feeling sorry for himself because he couldn't go home? What kind of hero was he? 

"This is good," he choked out. He scrubbed at his face. "I- I can fix so many things." 

So why did it feel so terrible? 

It was a bad night. It really was. He should have- he was a literal superhero. He should have compartmentalized and strategized and been practical, like his inner Colonel Rhodes advised. 

Instead Peter wandered. He just walked the streets of this city as night fell and didn't even figure out where he was. The climate seemed like New York City, for what that was worth, so maybe he wasn't too far off from the home he could never go back to. 

It took a really long time for him to realize that he was hungry. Like, he was really hungry.

That stopped Peter in his tracks. Despair crawled up his throat and choked him with tears. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to solve these problems. Act like an adult, he guessed. Adults got jobs. He needed to get a job. 

'I want to go home.' 

Was that just childish? Maybe it was a good idea. If he was in New York City, at least he'd know his way around. That could only help. 

Well. All roads lead to Rome, don't they? Peter started looking for train tracks. If he found a subway entrance it would be clearly labeled, but he didn't have any money for tickets. So he needed the actual railroad, for moving stuff.

'It's not legal but it's not like, a real crime,' Peter told himself, and decided to go for it.

Peter sent up a silent apology to the transportation system and hopped on top of the next freight train that came by. It took him through this weird city and then out into the country for a short spurt before churning into a different city.

Not just any city. Peter stared at the night skyline. The bleariness from exhaustion was playing tricks on him, wasn't it? Because this looked like New York City. 

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Five Little Ducks

Fandom: DC Comics, Batman

Summary: Bruce finds a magically de-aged Jason.

Chapters: 1/13

Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Stephanie Brown, Duke Thomas, Zatanna Zatara

Additional Tags: De-Aged Jason Todd, Magic, Babysitting, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Angst, POV Third Person, Bruce Wayne is Not Okay, Bruce Wayne Tries, Jason Todd Has Issues, Childhood Trauma

Chapter One: Hickory Dickory Dock

Bruce leaped out of the Batmobile, blood pumping as he sprinted halfway across the docks and kicked in the warehouse door in a panic. He couldn't be too late. Not again. He looked around the room, his heart still beating in his ears. He shut his eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to regain his cool. Jason wasn't a child anymore. He could take care of himself. Jason was probably long gone. Bruce tried to reassure himself that everything was fine. He turned to leave just as a pipe clattered and clanged against the cement floor, followed by a gasp. Bruce met eyes with a little boy with a bloody nose and bruised knuckles. He sat in the corner of the room shaking and crying, wearing a hoodie that was so oversized it pooled over his feet.

The boy held both hands over his face, stifling sobs as his body shook. Bruce's shoulders dropped, and he made himself appear smaller and less imposing. He stepped forward to approach, and the child screwed up his face and broke into a sobbing mess. "Oh no, I'm not here to hurt you-." The little boy shook his head frantically.

"No! No," he pleaded. Bruce sighed and sat down where he stood.

"I only want to help," Bruce reassured him. "Can you step into the light for me?" The child shook his head. "My mask is awfully spooky, huh?" The boy nodded. "Don't worry. I'm just a regular man under the mask."

The little boy shivered in the cold. "It's too cold in here to stay all night... I actually have a ravioli soup to pick up in a little bit, and I couldn't possibly eat it all by myself. Do you know anybody who might want to eat hot and spicy ravioli soup with me?" Bruce questioned. The little boy's stomach growled. Bruce reached out, and the little boy took his hand. "Oracle-."

"Got it," Barbara replied. Bruce held his hand out, and the child finally accepted. Bruce took a wet napkin and wiped his face and hands clean, checking for signs of a broken nose.

"Does that hurt?" Bruce questioned. The little boy tried to stop himself from crying. "Does your head hurt?"

The little boy shook his head. "No..." His voice was small, almost mouse-like.

"Okay... I don't think anything's broken," Bruce whispered, "Will you come with me?"

Bruce walked him to the Batmobile and set up the car seat he kept around for emergencies. He buckled the boy in and checked to ensure the seat belt was secure. The little boy grabbed Bruce's wrist, and they locked eyes. There was a strange familiarity swimming around in the boy's downturned eyes. "Am I in trouble?" asked the boy. Bruce shook his head. "Are you gonna take me home after?"

"I'm going to try to. How'd you get way out here?" Bruce asked.

Bruce hopped in the Batmobile and started driving toward the restaurant in Little Italy. "I don't remember," the boy mumbled, "I usually remember things... But I don't know this time. I never go this far away by myself."

"Do you know what neighborhood you live in?" Bruce questioned. The little boy swung his feet as he looked around at the Batmobile's interior.

"Uh-huh. I live in the apartments on Park Row," the boy answered, "Mr. Batman, you hurt my daddy before... But sometimes, he does bad things. My mommy says sometimes people have to do bad things to survive."

"Well-."

"I think he had to go away again and get punished," the little boy explained.

"I'm sorry that I hurt your father," Bruce apologized.

"It's okay... You probably didn't know. Sometimes people hit people because they don't know better," the little boy justified. Bruce shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he pulled up into the alley.

"I'll be right back, okay?" Bruce asked. The little boy nodded.

Bruce went into the back entrance and paid for his order. He took an empty soup container and split his order in two before grabbing his forks and returning to the Batmobile. He climbed into the backseat and draped a napkin over the boy's lap before handing him his soup. "Thank you," the little boy whispered. Bruce could tell it'd been a while since the child's last meal, but he had excellent manners. Bruce ate with him in silence. "Do you know my name?"

Bruce shook his head. He thought it was a strange question. "Do you know Santa Claus?" the little boy questioned.

"No, I can't say I do," Bruce replied, "What is your name, by the way?"

"Jason," the little boy answered. Bruce turned to him and shook his head.

"Jason Peter Todd?" Bruce asked. Jason nodded and smiled.

"Hey! You told a fib! You do know my name," Jason giggled. Bruce's breath caught. How was that possible? Jason was a full-grown man when Bruce received the distress call earlier. Who could've done something like that to him? "Mr. Batman?"

Bruce took off his mask and looked him in the eye. He hoped it would spark something in Jason's memory. "Jason, how old are you right now?" Bruce questioned.

"You're Bruce Wayne," Jason grinned, showing Bruce the little gap in his front teeth.

"Jason, please. How old are you today?" Bruce asked.

Jason frowned. "I'm five... Are you mad at me?" Jason questioned. Bruce shook his head.

"Do you remember talking to me today? We talked to each other three times today... I've known you since you were twelve, and I-."

"Mr. Wayne... I'm five," Jason whispered.

Bruce sighed. Jason was literally five years old. He had no memory of the past nineteen years, and there was no way to explain any of it without traumatizing him. "Well, Jason, if your mommy and daddy aren't home, do you want to stay with me for a little while?" Bruce asked. Jason nodded.

"How'd you know my whole name?" Jason asked.

"I'm a good detective," Bruce answered. Jason hiccupped and apologized. "It's alright. Jason, is it alright if I take you to a doctor and let her bandage up your cuts?" Jason nodded. "If you're good, Dr. Thompkins might give you a sticker."

Jason lit up. "I know who Dr. Thompkins is! She helped my mommy once when she was sick," Jason explained. Bruce smoothed Jason's hair down in the back. He felt something warm and wet, like blood, and he drew his hand back to see a glowing inscription on his hand. Magic. Of course, it was magic.

Corpus et mens infantis ad cor infantis. It was written in liquid on Jason's head and Bruce's palm. Jason didn't notice the glowing green inscription. "Does Dr. Thompkins know you're Batman?" Jason asked. Bruce nodded. "Am I asking too many questions, Mr. Wayne?"

"You can ask all the questions you want, Jason. Okay?" Bruce reassured him. Jason nodded as he drank the tomato broth from his soup container. Bruce smiled and wiped Jason's face. "I used to have a little boy like you... Except he wasn't as little as you. He was older... But to me, he was my little boy."

"Is he gone?" Jason asked.

"Kind of," Bruce whispered.

"Do you miss him?" Jason questioned.

"All the time," Bruce whispered, "He was only little for such a short time. I wished I could turn back time and be better to him."

Jason looked at the sad expression on Bruce's face, and he tapped his shoulder. "I bet he misses you too," Jason reassured him.

[redgoldsparks]

July reading and reviews by Maia Kobabe

I post my reviews throughout the month on Storygraph and Goodreads, and do roundups here and on patreon. Reviews below the cut.

Practical Anarchism: A Guide For Daily Life by Shuli Branson 

I picked this up after listening to the author's excellent interview on Gender Reveal. I'd never read an explanation of anarchy before and found this one accessible, intersectional, and rich with references to follow up on. Branson's basic argument is for recognizing that the state exists only to perpetuate its own power, and aids citizens only incidentally and when doing so doesn't conflict with maintaining control. In light of this, citizens should seek to gain as much freedom in daily life as they can by supporting community and mutual aid, by refusing hustle culture and separating self-worth from productivity, by spending as much time as they can on things that bring pleasure, joy, peace, and stealing from corporate workplaces among other things. Many sections of this book I found myself simply agreeing with, while other chapters (especially the sections on Work and Art) really challenged a lot of my internalized beliefs. I'm very glad I read this and imagine I will return to it in the future, especially when I'm able to read more on this topic.

How I Attended An All-Guy’s Mixer vols 1-6 by Nana Aokawa (fan translated) 

College students Tokiwa, Asagi, and Hagi are invited to a mixer with some college girls, but when they arrive they are greeted by three handsome boys at their reserved table. It turns out the girls they planned to meet at all work at a cross-dressing bar! Suo is a devastatingly charming and confident prince; Kohaku has a prickly exterior but a soft, shy interior; and Fuji draws smutty fan comics in her free time and is constantly on the lookout for new models. This goofy premise turns into a very sweet and funny slice of life comic as three couples with very different dynamics begin to develop. Sadly, I cannot find these books available in English so I am reading them at a sketchy online site, lol. I hope they get translated at some point because I've been completely sucked in and read four volumes in like 24 hours :3

Barda by Ngozi Ukazu

Barda is the captain of a soldier unit from a torture/hell world called Apokolips. Her backstory includes being kidnapped as a child and tortured into serving as the perfect weapon in a very black and white interplanetary war. Her torturer is an old woman named Granny Goodness. They work for a classic evil emperor named Darkseid, who has the son of his major enemy locked in his dungeons. At the beginning of the book, Barda is told to investigate how this guy, named Scott Free, keeps managing to almost escape. This is challenging material to make something out of. It feels so ridiculous, so campy, so over the top, I had a hard time taking the premise seriously- especially as this torture world has to obey PG-13 movie rules about not showing any blood or actual human mutilation. All that being said, I think Ukazu wrote about the best modern take as you possible could with these characters. The writing is quippy, smart, empathetic; I enjoyed the page layouts, color palette choices, and the emotional arc she takes Big Barda on through the book, even though I wanted it to go a little farther at the end.

We Deserve Monuments by Jas Hammonds

Avery is a queer biracial teen, uprooted from her DC home just before senior year of high school by a family emergency which relocates her and her parents to Bardell, Georgia. Avery's grandmother, Mama Letty, has cancer and the prognosis isn't good. Avery is also fresh from a breakup with her first ever girlfriend. Her early years of high school were ruined by Covid, and she doesn't want to waste her last year as well in a back-woods town. But despite herself, Avery is drawn towards the people of Bardell and the ways she learns their histories tangle with her own. There's Carol, the woman next door, who was Avery's mom's best friend in high school but who know barely speaks to her. There's Carol's daughter, Simone, whose colorful locs catch Avery's eyes immediately. There's Jade, Simone's best friend at school whose family is linked to more than one tragedy in the town's history. And there's Mama Letty herself, who Avery wants to get to know, but time is running out. I read this book in just under a week while on vacation and really enjoyed it! It felt refreshingly grounded and real after some of the YA I've tried and DNFed recently.

Yotsuba vol 10 by Kiyohiko Azuma

Utterly charmed by the entire chapter that's just Yotsuba learning how to cook pancakes. What a good reminder that fine motor control is a learned skill! I also liked how Yotsuba's dad handled a lie about some broken dishes. This is such a great series.

Sunhead by Alex Assan 

In Tel Aviv, teenage Rotem spends her free time hanging out with friends and obsessively re-reading her favorite book, Sunrise, a vampire romance. She doesn't know anyone else into the series and has to wait for the next book to come out in Hebrew. But she does meet another reader, Ayala, who sits out of gym class every single week, sometimes with a Jane Austin novel. Rotem lends Ayala the vampire book and suddenly she has a fandom friend. This book very delicately, and at times wordlessly, explores the way a fictional story can act as a lens for teen questioning of gender and sexuality. The book feels almost memoir like with its groundedness in very real teen emotions and relative lack of external conflict. It's a simple story but beautifully illustrated and relatable.

Witch Hat Atelier vol 12 by Kamome Shirahama

This is an action packed volume that sticks more closely to Coco, which is what I want out of the series. I'm still frustrated by the overload of new characters who I'm struggling to keep tract of. But the art is so stunning I'll probably keep reading.

Otonari Complex vol 1 by Saku Nonomura (fan translated)

Akira is a tall tomboy who befriended a shorter, prettier boy named Makoto in elementary school. In college, they are still inseparable, and many people mistake them for a straight couple- though usually they think Akira is the boy and Makoto the girl. Makoto only adds to this confusion by frequently cross-dressing. I enjoyed the friendship and gender mix-ups, but I don't love how every single secondary character either wants to date one of the two leads, or whats to separate the two leads because their close friendship might prevent them from dating in the future. Get out of their business, randos! They are clearly on a very slow friends to lovers arc, leave them alone to figure out their shit.

Lavender House by Lev AC Rosen read by Vikras Adam 

At the start of this book, in 1959, Andy Mills is at rock bottom. The former San Francisco cop was fired after being discovered in flagrante with another man at a gay bar. He is seriously considering suicide because he can't see any other options. Then a well dressed older woman, Pearl, sweeps into his life and asks him to solve a weeks old murder that occurred on her private Marin estate. Pearl is a lesbian and widow; her wife was the owner of a well known floral soap company and she died under mysterious circumstances. Pearl was unable to call in the police at the time because nearly everyone who lives on the soap flower farm estate is queer. A small group of biological and found family has made a safe, gated community for themselves- safe, that is, until one woman fell to her death from a second floor balcony. Andy isn't too hopeful about solving a case with little to no evidence, but he gives it a try, and he is blown away by seeing multiple queer couples living opening together in the same household. This was a solid story, though it didn't have that magic spark that sometimes captures me in murder mysteries. I was all ready to say I probably wouldn't continue the series, and then a 15 minute sample of the second book played after the end of the first in the audiobook. The second one already sounds MUCH more fascinating than the first, in part because Andy starts the sequel in touch with an intriguing queer community and setting up a new PI business. So I might try the next book after all!

Mabel McKay: Weaving the Dream by Greg Sarris 

A wonderful, lively memoir of Pomo basket weaver and medicine woman Mabel McKay, as written by Greg Sarris, who knew her for most of his life until she passed in the early 1990s. Sarris is currently the chairman of the Federated Indians of Graton Rancheria based in Sonoma County which serves the local Pomo and Miwok populations. Sarris is very much also a character in this story, which lays out many conversations had on long car rides up and down the California coast, while Sarris drove McKay to give talks at universities and museums or to visit her relatives. The story is non chronological but still immersive, telling of McKay's childhood, her early years doctoring and making baskets, and her life-changing friendship with Essie Parrish, another basket weaver and important figure in Sonoma county. I'd highly recommend this book, especially to anyone interested in West Coast history, and very especially if you grew up in California.

[loquaciousquark]

The Great Counting House Docks Heist

THE RULES

face value awarded for all materials stolen: all materials must be sold post-heist by a neutral third party (Gale) to avoid CHA- or theft-based adjustments of cost

natural 20: +250gp bonus

successful pickpocket of any guard: +100gp bonus

disabling an alarm: +100gp bonus

any detection or accusation of theft: -500gp bonus each

THE SETUP

each Thief will be given a scroll of Haste, which must be cast & concentrated on by the respective Heister

each Thief will be additionally buffed with one casting of Greater Invisibility by a neutral compatriot, who will remain unmoving in a safe zone at all times

each Thief will have his or her inventory fully emptied prior to the Heist*

each Thief will have all curses, poisons, bloodlessness, divine disfavor, or any other negative status effect removed prior to the Heist

any potion, elixir, divine blessing, or other imbibement which would provide a material advantage to the Heister must be removed prior to the Heist†

no previously looted keys to any chest, lock, door, or crate may be used by either Thief

the bounds will be from easternmost docks alarm-stand to westernmost alarm-stand, with the northern border being the Counting House doors & the southern border being the Chionthar; no Thief shall leave the bounded area at any point

THE HEIST

Shadowheart & Gale are the Greater Invisibility casters for Tav & Astarion, respectively. From the perspective of the above screenshot, Tav takes the rightmost boat and Astarion takes the left. While I've robbed these docks before, it was on my last playthrough & done entirely with one character, so I have absolutely no idea which boats contain anything of value.

Immediately, I'm surprised by how little Tav's Thief-based extra bonus action helps. I was worried it'd give her extra mobility, but she's limited by the lockpick action rather than her speed, and I have to end several of her turns early with her sitting on a chest and kicking her heels.

Guard distribution is very equal between boats. The Steel Watchers move fairly quickly, and the guards have comprehensive pathing within the target area.

The locks range from DC 10 to DC 20. None pose any issue for either Astarion or Tav.

Astarion immediately rolls two natural 20s within his first few chests. Tav successfully pickpockets a patrolling guard of 23 gold, a Docks Chest key, and a torch.

Both Tav & Astarion successfully disable their alarms.

Astarion pickpockets a guard of 23 gold.

Both Tav & Astarion completely wipe their respective boats of all wares, including paintings, chest contents, and food, without detection.

On the final approach back to the Counting House (which they did at approximately the same time), there are a pair of guards on either side of the doors. Tav successfully pickpockets hers of 6 gold and re-enters the Counting House. Astarion, on the last check of the entire heist, rolls a 2 and is detected.

Chaos breaks out immediately. Astarion is accused of theft and, while able to persuade his way out of prison, is thrown from the Counting House. (He'll claim he got caught on purpose for a more expedient escape.)

The docks guards realize theft has occurred and begin accusing everyone they can reach. This includes Gale, Shadowheart, Minsc, Jaheira, and—tragically—Tav. One by one, everyone either claims innocence or Persuades their way out of trouble. I can barely take two steps in any direction without being accosted by a guard.

The chaos brings some of the internal guards up to investigate, where they discover the interior thefts from the previous ransacking of the Counting House during Minsc's quest. The rounds begin again, though Tav manages to avoid accusation this time.

Eventually, both thieves manage to escape, along with the rest of the party, clutching their ill-gotten gains.

THE RESULTS

Gale acts as intermediary with Dammon, the only merchant in the game Tav hasn't stolen from. (This is because I, Quark, was challenged in Act 1 to not ever steal from him again, and @probablylostrightnow rolled a 16 with inspiration & Guidance from @bettydice on a DC 16 Persuade check against me. This is a holy binding to which I have adhered religiously.)

ASTARION'S WARES TOTAL: 1636 GP

TAV'S WARES TOTAL: 2602 GP

ASTARION BONUS ADJUSTMENT: two natural 20s, one successful pickpocket, one disabled alarm, one unsuccessful pickpocket resulting in detection & accusation of theft:

250 + 250 + 100 + 100 - 500 - 500 = -300gp to final score

TAV BONUS ADJUSTMENT: no natural 20s, two successful pickpockets, one disabled alarm, one accusation of theft:

100 + 100 + 100 - 500 = -200gp to final score

FINAL SCORES

ASTARION: 1336 GP

TAV: 2402 GP

WINNER: TAV

*soul-bound relics, prisms, prisons, or weaponry excluded

†permanent blessings, benefits, or buffs which would disappear only on death excluded

[amnottrak-official]

Sydney Trains T set

Class of electric train operating in Sydney, Australia

The T sets, also referred to as the Tangara trains, are a class of electric multiple units that currently operate on the Sydney Trains network. Built by A Goninan & Co, the sets entered service between 1988 and 1995, initially under the State Rail Authority and later on CityRail. The T sets were built as "third-generation" trains for Sydney's rail fleet, coinciding with the final withdrawals of the "Red Rattler" sets from service in the late 1980s and early 1990s. The Tangaras were initially built as two classes; the long-distance G sets and the suburban T sets, before being merged after successive refurbishments.

Quick Facts T set, In service ...

Design

Vestibule

The Tangara is a double-deck four-car set, with the two outer cars being driving control trailers (carrying a D prefix) that are fitted with one pantograph each and the middle two cars being non-control motor cars (carrying an N prefix). All sets are equipped with chopper control.

Unlike most other Sydney Trains rolling stock, the seats on the suburban T sets are fixed, meaning that half the seats face backwards. Former G sets, however, do have reversible seats.

History

Initial delivery

In July 1986, the Government of New South Wales awarded A Goninan & Co a contract for 450 carriages. In 1993, it was decided that the last 80 carriages of the order would be built to a modified design to operate peak-hour services to Wyong, Port Kembla and Dapto. In 1996, five spare driving trailers were ordered.

The Tangara name is of Aboriginal origin, meaning to go.

Two subclasses of Tangara were built, the suburban sets targeted as T sets, and outer-suburban sets originally targeted as G sets. The T sets replaced the first generation of Sydney's electric rolling stock.

The G sets differed from the T sets in originally having manual door buttons, high-backed reversible seats, toilets, fresh water dispensers and luggage racks. Additionally, the G sets were delivered with a revised design at the front and rear of the train, notably an angular cutout in the bottom of their noses. Additionally, the pinstriped grey panels below the cab windows were replaced with light orange panels for improved visibility. All T sets have a number plate below a hundred while all G sets are numbered at or above

T sets

G sets

Original liveries

The first train (set T20) was unveiled at Sydney Central in December 1987, heavily promoted as the "train of the 21st century", operating a promotional service on 28 January 1988 targeted as TAN1, and entering regular service on 12 April 1988. The final T set (set T59, formerly T92) was delivered in February 1994 and the final G set (set T100, formerly G32) in October 1995.

The cars built were:

T set driving trailer cars: D6101-D6284 with additional spare cars D6285-D6289

T set non-driving motor cars: N5101-N5284 with additional spare car N5285

G set driving trailer cars: OD6801-OD6840 with additional spare car OD6841

G set non-driving motor cars: ON5801-ON5820

G set non-driving motor cars with toilet: ONL5851-ONL5870

Set G7 was fitted with an AC drive system for evaluation purposes with the existing DC stock and compatibility with signalling and communication systems on the network. G7 was scrapped in 2005 at Maintrain, Auburn after the Waterfall rail accident, as all four cars were beyond repair.

Upgrades in the early 2000s

Original interior

First refurbishment

When first introduced, the T sets were fitted with passenger door release handles to prevent loss of air conditioning at stations. These were later disconnected (and later removed) due to passengers not getting used to opening the doors for themselves when needed. The seats originally had fabric upholstery, but this was gradually replaced by blue vinyl.

In the early 2000s, all Tangaras were updated with a new CityRail corporate appearance. This involved painting the passenger doors and much of the front and rear ends of the trains yellow. Blue and yellow stripes along the bottom of the carriages were replaced by a single yellow stripe and updated CityRail logos were placed on the driving cars.

In late 2005, 15 V set carriages were suddenly withdrawn due to the discovery of corrosion in their underframes. G sets began to operate more off-peak Intercity services to Port Kembla, Kiama, and Wyong to cover for the withdrawn V sets. H sets started entering service in December 2006. The newer trains feature a very similar level of passenger amenity to the G sets and can be seen as a continuation of the design. Their introduction lead to a change in the role of the G sets. From 2007, the G sets were progressively redeployed to suburban services, providing extra capacity on high-demand existing services such as on the Western line and allowing new services to be introduced. By 2008, G sets were often used on peak suburban services that extended into intercity areas, such as services to Springwood (via the Western line).

Conversion of G sets to T sets

A converted G set

In 2009, the conversion of G sets to T sets began, to improve their suitability for suburban working as H sets took over their outer suburban duties. Conversion work consisted of the removal of toilets and their replacement with additional seating. Other work included the installation of new handrails and hangers and the recoding of cars and sets. The carriage numbers were kept, however the O (outer suburban) prefix was dropped. OD became D, while ONL and ON became N. The set numbers were reclassified from G1-30 to T100-130. G4 was the first to be converted (into T104). In 2010, sets being converted started receiving a full interior refurbishment as part of the program to refurbish all the Tangara carriages. In 2018, sets T14 and T121 (ex G21) both became mixtures of T set and ex-G set carriages, with both sets swapping two carriages with each other.

Upgrades in the 2010s

T sets

Ex-G sets

Second refurbishment

In 2010, a refresh of the Tangaras commenced with the interiors repainted, and new seating upholstery and handrails fitted.

In July 2013, Sydney Trains trialled rearranging the seating on the upper and lower decks of two carriages. There were 16 fewer seats per carriage; 3x2 seats were replaced by 2x2 seats in one carriage (N5134 on set T78) while in the other carriage (N5131 on set T77) there are double seats on one side and a bench style seating on the other. Both carriages were later returned to the normal 3x2 arrangement.

In 2014, phase one of a technology upgrade program, aiming to improve reliability and upgrade ageing components, was underway. A contract for phase two of the program, aiming to extend the life of these trains and bring technology into line with newer trains was awarded to UGL Limited in August 2015. This was expected to be completed by July 2018. The expected completion date was revised to 2019, however as of February 2023 only 2 sets have entered service with the second phase upgrades.

The first phase of the program involved upgrading the passenger doors to cut down on vandalism, as the steel panels on the original doors were prone to being kicked out by vandals. The door kicking incidents often led to unnecessary delays as the guard had to lock off the affected carriage. The new lightweight passenger doors have a similar design to the doors on the M sets. This phase of the project was completed at the end of July 2016. The first set to receive the new doors was T96, in October 2014.

The second phase of the program was initially set to include destination indicators and digital voice announcements, which were installed in T72 and T106, were not installed in other sets due to delays and issues with the DVA system. The upgrade still went ahead however, with vestibules given modifications including marked priority seating and Automatic Train Protection (ATP). The first sets with this revised phase 2 upgrade, T52 and T73, re-entered service on 12 November 2021. As of 26 February 2022, sixteen sets have entered service with the upgrade.

The program includes overhauling air conditioning units, Static Inverter upgrades, and modifications to the Driver's desk/cab.

Other anti-vandal improvements included the introduction of 'Mousetrap' sensors. Trialed in 2015, these sensors are able to detect vapors from strong permanent markers and spray paint; triggering an in-built camera feed which is relayed to Sydney Trains staff as well as the Police Transport Command. They were then installed in most converted G sets.

Service

Lines serviced

The Tangaras usually operate on the following lines:

T1 North Shore & Western Line: Emu Plains to City via Parramatta, City to Berowra or Hornsby via Gordon

T4 Eastern Suburbs & Illawarra Line: Bondi Junction to Waterfall & Cronulla via Hurstville & Sutherland

T7 Olympic Park Line: Lidcombe to Olympic Park

T9 Northern Line: Gordon to Hornsby via Strathfield

South Coast Line: Waterfall & Thirroul to Port Kembla

Since 2013, their operation on Sector 2 has ended timetable services with all of them being displaced to Sector 1 since A sets do not operate on that sector.

Incidents

Wentworthville derailment

Driving trailer car D6127 and motor car N5127 were both involved in the Wentworthville train derailment on 27 December 1989, the first major accident involving the Tangara fleet. D6127 was written off, having collided with the platform. N5127 was sent to Dunheved on the Ropes Creek line for training fire fighters, along with S Set car C3866.

Vineyard collision

On 10 February 1994, set T99 travelling from Richmond towards Blacktown collided with a van at the level crossing at Vineyard. The first 3 cars derailed in a zig-zag format, starting a nearby grassfire.

Unanderra derailment

On 24 January 2009 at 2:35 AM, set G4 (now T104) was departing from Unanderra towards Wollongong and derailed due to the train passing a signal at Danger, and the catch-points derailing the train to avoid a collision with a freight train. The first 2 cars and the front bogie of the third car derailed and stopped safely 50 metres from the signal. Subsequently because of this incident, G4 was the first G set to undergo conversion to suburban T set T104.

Carriage pierced by guard rail

During evening peak on 15 January 2014, motor car N5222 on set T10 was pierced by a guard rail near Edgecliff railway station while on a service to Cronulla. Issues with the train were already developing on the previous run, triggering wheelslip sensors on the train multiple times. As the train entered the Eastern Suburbs Line, a strong burning smell was reported at several stations. It was later revealed that an incorrectly repaired axle on N5222 led to the force of the 440-tonne train picking up the piece of guard rail.

Kembla Grange derailment

On 20 October 2021 at 4:09 AM, Tangara set T42 derailed near Kembla Grange station on a level crossing. It was caused by a motor vehicle that was stolen and driven up the rail corridor near the railway crossing. Car D6212 fell onto its side and car N5212 also derailed, while cars N5211 and D6211 did not derail and only had minor damage. There were no serious passenger injuries or deaths as a result of this incident, however two passengers, as well as the guard and the driver, were hospitalised to be checked. The Driver was badly injured during the rollover of the Driver trailer carriage. T sets usually don't operate through Kembla Grange, however due to industrial action on the day of the incident banning the usual H sets, they were used.

4D

4D at Spencer Street

Main article: 4D (train)

A train bearing strong resemblance to a Tangara, known as the 4D, was built by A Goninan & Co in 1991 for the Public Transport Corporation. Although outwardly similar to the Tangaras it was mechanically very different being built to be compatible with the Comeng trains operated in Melbourne. It was included in the sale of Hillside Trains to Connex Melbourne in August 1999. It wasn't successful and after spending large periods out of service, being withdrawn in December 2002 and stored at Newport Workshops. The 4D was bought by CityRail for parts and then scrapped in March 2006 by them at Sims Metal, Brooklyn, Victoria. The G sets' cab ends have a design similar to the 4D, with the bottom part being bent inwards.

Notes

Former G sets are 81.21 m (266 ft 5 in).

Former G set cars are 20,385 mm (66 ft 11 in).

Former G set cars are 53 t (52 long tons; 58 short tons).

Former G set cars are 45 t (44 long tons; 50 short tons).

This person sent the same ask 3 times in a row and I read all three just to make sure they were all the same

yay train facts! I have a fun train fact: they are very yummy to eat 😋

[ameliathecatto]

Welcome to ■■■

What does Fate says to the Unfortunate — Chapter 3

It was harder trying to convince those that worked under her the reason for adopting a child that did not belong to their world than trying to slain a God.

Warning for possible OOC, sorry for my limited knowledge on the characters. Not proofread, possible mistakes.

Word Count: 2.8k

For the first time in her life, she would like to thank Gaia that Arknis’ time runs the same as DC.

Aside from the slightly confused stares from some of the staff, she was willing to bet a 100 dollars that someone within Arknis was going to make fun of her for adopting another child.

Having a child roam around the entire ‘office’ was not new, Amelia had adopted two children before Dick, though they both left once they had grown old enough and decided to not stick around. There were other workers that had brought along their children for a day or two before so none of this could be considered new. 

But Amelia adopted another one? That was a little unexpected.

Arknis was nearly all white — the walls, floors, some of the doors and most of the lights. It took a minute to get used to the shine, they were not brighter than the spotlights but that did not mean it was not brighter than most white lights.

“We are going to get you settled in first before we take a tour around the place.”

He was curious, naturally. His height just allowed him to peer through the windows, seeing the different departments as well as the layout and equipment they had. Though they would always have time to get used to here if he was not going to leave anytime soon.

She dragged him by the jacket, pulling him along to the huge metal doors. After a brief scan from the sensors, they slid open, revealing the interior of the Surveillance and Investigation Department (S&I).

The interior was what some imagined future technology to resemble; heavy, thick metal tables with holographic projectors in the middle as well as screens etched into it. The tables came in various sizes, though the largest one was in the middle with a large holographic screen floating above it, showing every world’s combined death and birth count.

As Dick turned to ask her more about their surroundings, a voice made him jump. “Are you perhaps considering adopting this child, Miss Amelia?”

“Where is that voice coming from?” He looked around, trying to find the person. 

“Right here.”

As the voice spoke once more, he looked to the left. There was a holographic projection of a woman with long hair, wearing a tight body suit that seemed oddly comfortable. His mouth agape, staring at the woman for what felt like half of his lifetime.

“Aisyah, are you doubting my decision right now?”

“You can’t blame me for being a little curious, Miss Amelia.”

“Are you an AI?”

The young boy walked right up to Aisyah, reaching his hand out to see if he could grab her. His hand went through the hologram, his skin prickled with the faint sensation of electricity, which made him pull his hand back urgently. 

“You won’t be harmed by it.” She explained while he checked on his hand. 

“So you are an AI!”

“You could put it that way, yes.”

She looked back over to Amelia, though the projection still had a smile on her lips. 

“I assume you must have brought him over to make a worker’s permit for him, yes?”

“Wait, what —”

“You’re not working in a sweatshop.”

She could feel stares thrown her way, one being very confused and the other being very unamused by her response. His eyes blinked, trying to comprehend if what she just said was a joke or it was actually a statement. It was impossible to tell her true intentions considering she had a straight face while saying that. 

“Anyways,” Aisyah spoke up, taking their attention away from that matter. “Follow me, I will guide you on our process for a worker’s permit.”

“So, what is it actually used for?”

“Well…”

She led him to a room down the hall of the department, looking over her shoulder to give Amelia a nod. 

“You don’t usually take in children like him.”

Another holographic projection of Aisyah appeared right next to her, but she did not seem surprised. Sure there was only one version of her, but she could still split herself into different functions, especially when said function was already pre-programmed into her in the first place. 

“Well, I don’t usually take in children either. So one that is different doesn’t mean that this is an exception in any way.” She shrugged.

“That is true. I can’t deny that.”

Aisyah stood closer to her, her voice robotic yet it sounded warm, like she had actual emotions.

“But this isn’t just an exception. It’s beyond what you’re usually accustomed to do.”

“Now you’re using all of the hard words.”

“Those words aren’t foreign to you, Miss Amelia.”

She groaned, scratching the back of her neck as she continued, “You could say that I had pity for the child.”

“Pity?” 

The confusion in her tone peeked through just enough for her meaning to get across, Amelia’s eyes still remained fixed on the door where the other ‘Aisyah’ brought him to get his permit done. 

This was the other reason that she did not want anyone to see Dick when she just brought him here, she had to make up excuses or explain things that she just did not want to at all. She would never blame them for being curious, it was not everyday that she would be so willing to adopt a child. 

Even if technically said child forced her to adopt him.

She could have very easily just told him “no” or completely ghosted him, but she ended up listening to his request anyway and even ended up agreeing to it. Her previous experiences with children told her that they were gremlins, terrible living creatures to be living with during their early days. But who had not been there before?

Her brain could run a mile a minute, trying to explain to herself the reason why she even got convinced to adopt a semi-newly orphaned child in the first place. Dick was much more different than the other orphans she had taken under her wing. 

Way too different, she could say.

The only response she could give her was a click of a tongue, crossing her arms as her attention was taken to the projection beside her.

“One way or another, he has already come with us. And seeing as he is going to stay here for the time being, he’s going to be my responsibility.”

“And you’re prepared to explain to Marcus as to why there is a small child registered in our systems?”

“Of course.”

She sighed once more, just before the door swung open and the projection beside her disappeared. Aisyah had that general polite smile one would see from most retail workers, though it did feel somewhat sincere coming from her. 

“So, make sure you don’t lose the permit, alright?” She told Dick with a slight tilt of her head. 

As he nodded, Amelia walked closer to him, “Or do you want me to hold onto it instead?”

“Oh uh… I think I won’t lose it.”

“Make sure you don’t.”

The contents on the middle screen shifted, showing the layout of Arknis which had four floors in total including the emergency shelter floor. 

“Our in-house dormitory is on the third floor. Your room number is already assigned beforehand, 440.” She looked over to Amelia, her smile widening by a few pixels, “I assume you will show him around, yes?”

“Yep.” 

She then patted him on the shoulder, leading him out of the department. The projection disappeared the moment she turned her head around, although he was clearly mesmerized by the way the projection broke down into pixels then disappeared in thin air.

As they walked down the hallways, he started to speak, “So… Aisyah told me this place is called Arknis. But we are in like, another world from where I am from, right?”

“Yes.”

“And the world is also called Arknis?”

“Also yes.”

His eyes narrowed, looking at the ground as he attempted to compile his thoughts.

“So… Which came first?”

“The world was named Arknis first before this place even existed.”

He froze on the spot after listening to her answer, blinking at her. She did not stop however, it was only until there was a large distance between them and she had noticed he had not moved that made her turn her head.

The look in her eyes almost made her laugh.

“What? Did you honestly think that the answer was much more ambiguous?”

“I… I thought that it was like the chicken or the egg question.”

“Well, technically, if we are viewing the question the way nature had evolved, the answer would be the egg.”

This time she couldn’t hold back her laughter however, it echoed throughout the halls as she took a glance at his expression. He seemed like a confused dog, unsure of what to do or how to proceed in the situation. He narrowed his eyes as she continued on laughing, so much so that her stomach was starting to hurt.

Once she had calmed down and wiped the tears off of her eyes, she jerked her head towards where the stairs were.

The second floor was the same hue as the third floor, including the doors that looked exactly the same, making it impossible to discern which room is which. Despite that, she just continued to walk onwards as if she knew exactly where his room was. It only took another minute of walking for them to reach his dorm.

“Welcome to your new home, Dick.”

The door swung open to reveal a loft-style apartment. The floor-to-ceiling windows allowed ample natural light to brighten up the entire apartment hence the amount of ceiling lights that could be counted with one hand. The general hue of the apartment is beige with some brown and black here and there due to the furniture.

Fully furnished with the bare necessities that everyone was looking for, including a decently 

sized open kitchen that had counters also served as dining tables.

She was not too surprised at how amazed he looked at his new (temporary) home, this was the first reaction of many when they had chosen the option for a dormitory. Not that they would have expected to be given an apartment of their own of all things when the contract wrote ‘free dormitory’.

“All of this is…” He started to explore around, trying to get used to his surroundings.

“All of this is yours.”

He let out a breath that he did not know he was holding, staring around the whole apartment in excitement. She did not say much, simply letting him jump around the place, as long as he did not attempt to backflip off of the stairs, of course.

She heard a faint grumble from his stomach as he approached her, his cheeks appearing as a faint red. She gave him a short pat on the head, leading him out of his apartment.

“Anything you don’t like to eat?” She asked on their way up the stairs again.

“I eat anything.”

“Even animal organs?”

His face immediately scrunched up, making her chuckle.

“I’m kidding~ I won’t feed you animal organs today.”

“... Today?” His voice trembled.

She started to laugh, the sound bellowing from her stomach, making her amusement towards him even clearer. Dick pouted, trying to reason with her to not mess with him like that, but she clearly was not going to hear any of it anytime soon.

She brought him to their cafeteria, clearly large enough to fit everyone that worked here if they decided to have lunch at the same time. That had not happened before since everyone had a choice in what time they wanted to have their lunch break, just in order to avoid overwhelming the canteen staff too much.

Long tables, wood chairs and a kitchen big enough to feed at least 500 people, though she would argue that the staff could do more than that. 

She walked to the kitchen, passing the sparkly metal tables as she directed her attention towards the fridges. She opened them up, seeing whatever leftovers that the staff had stored so they could either eat it tomorrow or bring it back home.

She raised an eyebrow when she noticed some chicken in a plastic bag being marinated in soy sauce. She rightfully assumed that it was to make some fried chicken after opening it up and various scents entered her nose, though it smelt mostly like soy sauce.

“Do you like fried chicken?”

After getting a nod from him, she started to prepare the oils as well as flour and the eggs. She works as quickly as she could while heating up some extra rice she found in the usual long metal container. She did not allow him to do anything however, though she did pull him closer just before she fried the chicken.

“You could do this to see if the oil is heated enough.” She proceeded to take a nearby wooden chopstick and stuck it in the oil.

“Do you see a difference?”

“The end of the chopstick is bubbling?”

“That’s right. That means the oil is now hot enough.”

“Be careful.” She warned him just before she placed the dredged chicken into the oil. 

He took a step back when the oil sizzled, jumping slightly before realizing that he was safe. 

“Does it make that big of a sound?”

“It makes even louder of a sound if the ingredient still has water on it.”

There was a slight smirk on her lips when she noticed that horrified expression flash across his face for a second. Once the pieces of fried chicken were golden brown, she fished it out and placed it on the drying rack right beside the gas stove. She knew how hungry he was even without having to hear his stomach growling since he audibly gulped while staring at the fried chicken.

“There’s something I want you to help me with.” 

His head snapped towards her direction and for a second, she had mistaken him for a hungry dog. She chuckled while washing the cabbage, then holding up a shredder after she dried it. 

“All I need you to do is shred this, alright? Just shred as much as you can eat.”

After she demonstrated how to shred the cabbage, she handed both of it to him. She picked up a clean plate from the dryer, keeping an eye on him while she took some rice she heated in the microwave due to convenience. 

Amelia honestly thought that he was going to shred a mountain of cabbage, but he did not shred too much, using less than a quarter of the remaining cabbage. After she plate the fried chicken and cabbage, she placed the shredder in the sink. She did not have to do much since Dick would just follow along the smell of newly fried chicken.

“Little pup, hmm?”

“Ah?”

She placed the plate on the table, then decided to turn back around to get some water for him. She came back pretty quickly, although he had already inhaled a quarter of the plate by the time she placed a glass of water right in front of him.

She found it oddly adorable, but she was also a little curious as to what he had been eating all of this time considering he was eating like a puppy that had not eaten for a long time.

“Welcome to Arknis.”

She laughed again, seeing the way he stuffed his face full of food was beyond amusing. 

He was by far the hungriest child she had ever adopted up until this point after all. 

[World Number — 341942198214

Resident Number — 9704391824

Name: Richard John Grayson 

Alias: Dick

Gender: Male

Age: 10Y 6M 10D

Species: Full Human

Family Relations: Mary Grayson — Mother (Deceased)

John Grayson — Father (Deceased)

Currently under Amelia (■■■)’s care

■■■ 

(Higher permissions are required to access further information. Please refer to Marcus/Aisyah/Amelia for assistance)

Health Conditions: Extremely good

Special Notes: To Marcus, Left by Aisyah

Miss Amelia has adopted a new child, as you will encounter him soon, I will keep my comments about him to myself for the time being. But I would like you to keep an eye on them. 

I would like to emphasize that I trust her and her judgment, I however, do believe that there was way more to all of this than it first meets the eye. After all, this child is not from our world. I would like to enquire for you to help calculate the risks as well as asking her the reason for adopting him.

(Higher permissions required to access further information. Please refer to Marcus/Aisyah/Amelia for assistance]

[lizzybeth1986]

Saffron Sugar, Turmeric Spice

Book: Perfect Match

Pairings: f!Hayden x poly m!MC (Basil Park), f!Hayden x f!OC (Nilukshi Sigera). Implied Sloane x MC.

Summary: Sage and Basil have been in an open relationship since that moonlit chat in Berlin. He's a free agent - so is she. It's an arrangement she's grown to love...but is Sage ready to to fall in love with more than one person?

Word Count: 3,720 words

Note: I mention a comet named "Comet Hasegawa" in the second part of the fic. This is a fictional comet modelled on Comet Nishimura (C/2023 P1) which was spotted this month and won't be seen for another 400+ years.

Old Fashioned Ice Cream, the sign reads, a fairly-large four leaf clover gracing the right corner. Mashti Malone's is practically an institution here in LA - with its pastel interiors and its quaint, old-world charm and the heady, rich, floral scents of Persian bastani. Sage can't resist taking in a deep breath everytime she enters this place. Although today...today she does it less for the pleasure of all these sweet scents, and more about keeping herself calm.

It feels like only yesterday that Basil brought her here for the first time, two years ago. To will away a bit of their nervousness about catching hold of Winona Johnson, he'd said.

And it did help. Every fear they'd had that she would laugh in their face, would throw them out, would never even listen...all of it melted away when the delightful coldness of French Lavender ice cream hit her tongue. Basil had playfully swiped a tiny spoonful of his orange blossom scoop on her nose. You could almost taste the promise of so, so many honeyed nighttime kisses in their laughter that day.

Mashti Malone has been their most-visited place in LA, ever since. Sometimes with the Candy Bombs (Damien, Alana and Khaan still grimace collectively at the name), sometimes with Sloane and Kim. But more often than not, it's just the two of them. Her spending an extra three minutes at the counter, taking in the rainbow-range of colours and gleefully tasting samples; him sitting back on his chair to watch her, ice cream sandwich in hand and a twinkle in his eye.

This is a place Sage never tires of exploring, and she always leaves it with a different flavour. It was Persian cucumber the last time, a burst of freshness that soothed and invigorated her sense all at once. And before that, the crystal glow of rice noodles against creamy, rose-scented vanilla, their signature faludeh. And way before that, the treacly unctuousness of date ice cream, so rich she had to take a full pint home.

Basil's order has always remained the same. Bastani Sonnati, offered to him the minute he shows his face at the door. From time to time they take bites of each other's ice creams; the smell of saffron and rosewater is familiar, and divine. This man sticks to his favourites - a principle he applies only to food, Sage thinks to herself, giggling quietly.

Today she finds herself in need, desperately, of the sunny-hued comfort of Basil's bastani. She wants to crack the wafers of the sandwich open, watching as the ice cream stretches and pulls apart. She wants to breathe in the floral scents of rose and saffron, feel the pistachios break in a satisfying crunch between her teeth. At this point when she wants to tell Basil her wish to explore the unknown, she finds herself seeking the comfort of the familiar. So she orders her own Bastani Sonnati.

"Baby," There's a teasing fondness in Basil's tone, as if he knows she has something in her mind that she's struggling to tell. "Something's up. You haven't said a word since we've got here."

Warmth creeps up her neck. Basil knows her too well for a man she's been dating for just two years.

"Um." Sage begins, fake-clearing her throat, " remember that time you and Sloane went to DC to visit Kim, and I took up that rock climbing tour at The Gunks?"

Basil grins. "Yeah...six months ago, right?" She nods as he continues to speak, finishing off the last of his wafers. "That may have been the first time I heard you gushing about Dr Madison Eckhart, but it sure as hell wasn't the last."

She smiles and mock-punches him on the arm, shaking her head as he steals a bite of her bastani sandwich. "You would, too, if you'd seen her normally sweet mouth come up with the most creative ways to shade a cocky guy," Sage tells him, giggling at the memory before she mimics Dr Eckhart's lilting but remarkably steely voice, "Get your head out of your armpits and listen to what I'm saying for once, Greg you asshole!"

For a minute, she almost forgets what she was intending to say, simply basking in their shared laughter. But then the strongest memory she has of that excursion resurfaces - silken brown hair whipping around a weatherbeaten face...almost like a reel in her head that she has watched too long on loop - and the warmth climbs up her neck again.

"So...uh. I met someone there."

"Oh?"

Basil tilts his head slightly, his eyebrows raised in an expression of mild interest. She searches his face for any traces of doubt, or judgement, or jealousy, and finds nothing but curiosity and...a brief flash of excitement? Either he's a very good actor or what she's clearly about to say doesn't sound as transgressive to him as it has to her.

She's been worried that he'd ask her - like he did two years before when she'd moved to her own flat - if her feelings for him have changed. Whether she's lost interest. Basil has identified himself as polyamorous for years, and she and Sloane have had his version of "The Talk" more times than they could collectively count. Don't be ashamed of wanting to be with other people. Openness is key. Honesty is key.

Back then they'd listened carefully, sincerely, but neither understood why any of that needed to apply to them. Sage and Sloane will always love Basil - for all he is and for all they've learned from him - but personally, they could never envision any sort of future with anyone else. And that was fine.

But now Sloane has started to show a sliver of interest in Alana, and as for herself...well.

"Earth to Sage." Sage can barely hear Basil's soft, laughing voice over the clamor of her own thoughts. It sounds like heaven, now more than ever.

All through this little trip, Sage had taken care. Touches. Kisses. The nicknames they use only on each other. An admission like the one she's making today could be taken the wrong way...and never, never, not even in a million years - not even after they are dust particles and rusted metal beneath six feet of earth - would she want Basil to ever believe the impossible. That her love for him would stop.

She puts what remains of her ice cream sandwich down, and steals a glance at him. Crinkles of laughter around his eyes, a corner of his mouth tugged upwards. A corner she will always want to kiss.

So he does know. He does trust her.

"There's a picture of her from that trip," Sage says, biting back her own smile, "You wanna see?"

"Mmm," he puts a hand over hers. "but let's get home first."

The trip back to Nadia's friend's place takes fifteen minutes but feels like hours, and they both drop with a thud on the couch rather than actually sit.

Sage has to slide the lockscreen upwards to unlock her phone. They both share a secret smile: the picture on the lockscreen is a silhouette of two people kissing, against the backdrop of a moon so abnormally large and golden that you would assume it was photoshopped in, if you didn't know what supermoons were. Only they (and Sloane, who gleefully clicked this picture just minutes before Sage took a similar one of her and Basil) know that it was real, that it was taken last year, that it's them. In this cozy, slightly messy sitting room - much like the one they own at home - Basil's hand moves from the small of Sage's back to cup her shoulders, and his head leans against hers.

The picture she shows him doesn't seem like much: a young woman, long brown hair loosely tied back, her dusky skin taking on a golden glow from the light of the afternoon sun. She's still wearing her climbing gear, her helmet on the rock beside her, her smile both tired and full of mischief. It reminds Sage of the very first time she looked at the woman - windswept hair whipping around her face before she tied it up and put on her helmet - and fell head over heels in love.

Sage had felt the gut punch of that realization the minute their eyes met - knew it was love with a terrifying certainty that was at once not at all like the way she fell for Basil, but also exactly like that.

Basil studies Sage's face for longer than he looks at the picture, his smile soft and knowing. "What's her name?" he asks as she flips through her gallery in search of other pictures, lacing the fingers of her other hand with his own.

"Nilukshi," She finds what she's looking for - a picture of the both of them against the backdrop of a stage. Sage sitting over a crate strumming guitar, Nilukshi singing, her hands spread out and her feet apart, her face a portrait of pure joy. Even here, in this quiet, cozy living-room sofa, far from the chaos of that stage, Sage relives the moment she realized they were both auditioning for the same play, just two weeks after that excursion. How their eyes locked for several skips of a heartbeat once they were done. "Small scale production for Rent. We were jamming on Seasons of Love backstage."

He chuckles. "Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes...how do you measure, measure a year." His voice is pitch perfect, as usual, and Sage has to bite back the urge to finish the verse with "Measure in love, sweet love". This is not the right time for an impromptu acapella.

But he turns serious a minute later, adjusts himself slightly to face Sage. His brows furrow in that way they do when he asks a question they both know will have answers that scare the shit out of you. "Does she know you're..."

"Yeah. I told her about Eros. It...didn't go as badly as I thought."

He sighs in relief. "Does she know about us?"

"Yep." It was funny how that was the harder conversation to have. Nilukshi's face had been studiously blank when Sage told her about her boyfriend, her hands shoved deep into her pockets. At least for the first five minutes. But the words "open relationship" loosened her up for some reason, and suddenly her gorgeous, long, artist's fingers were stretched out in front of her, eyes laser-focusing on them as if checking out her brand new manicure was the most important task in the world. Cool, she'd said, her voice almost squeaky, cool.

Basil's other hand lightly rubs her arm, encouraging Sage to sink into his embrace. "Did you only realise you wanted to date her now?"

She shakes her head, flushing. "I wanted to believe it was just a crush, not gonna lie. I just didn't think having my feelings returned was possible till now."

He frowns, almost like he's going to say it isn't like you to lack confidence in your charms, Sage. "Why not?"

Sage sighs, slowly inching forward and kissing a corner of his mouth. She looks down, training her gaze over their fingers tangled together.

It hasn't been easy, reliving the last five months of pining and awkwardness and just...the tendency to get ten times clumsier in Nilukshi's presence. Or reliving the last five months of tension and worry and (maybe misplaced) guilt, hoping against hope that she wasn't doing her relationship with Basil an injustice by getting even one step of this revelation wrong. But she'd still do it all over again - for him and for Nilu. For the two people who own her whole heart, the one that doesn't even physically exist in her body.

"Didn't think she'd be interested. Thought it would be a thing I'd tell myself to get over at some point. I'd have told you straightaway the moment I thought I stood a chance." Her eyes are darker and more shadowed as she raises them to meet his. "I did okay...didn't I?"

She feels the rumble of soft laughter from against her as he pulls her closer. "Oh honey. You did better than just okay." Sage sighs softly against his mouth as he draws her closer. "You were perfect."

His hands cup her face, his nose nudges softly against her own, making her giggle. The flavour of the ice cream they'd just shared half an hour ago lingers on his tongue. A bouquet of saffron and rose and clotted cream, coating her palate and making her feel like she is lying on a bed of flowers, sunlight streaming in rays of butter-yellow down her hair.

--

Two weeks later

Nilukshi is here before time at Brooklyn Bridge Park: binoculars, mat, amateur astronomy 101 booklet, backup garbage bags and snacks at hand. Chose tonight because of the new moon, she whispers excitedly. Even in the pitch dark, Sage can see her eyes light up as she approaches.

Comet Hasegawa is best seen in the early hours before dawn, where the sky is dark and unfettered by the thick veil of New York smog, preferably with no moonlight to obscure the intense glow of the stars. It was discovered only last month, by the Japanese scientist it was named after, and they have just this month to capture it in its full, emerald-green glory. This Saturday is the last time it will appear in the night sky. It'll take another 500 years for anyone on Earth to ever catch sight of it again.

Sage knows this because Sloane told her. Because Sage and Basil may have joined her in her backyard stargazing sessions, her trips to the planetarium, taken turns gazing into her humble home telescope just for the smile that lights up her face afterwards...but somewhere along the line they started to look forward to stargazing. Cherish it. Treasure it. It had become their thing.

Nilukshi had stared blankly at Sage the first time she'd yapped on and on about space - something stupidly jargon-y bullshit about Mercury's greatest elongation and seeing Jupiter at opposition. It got so embarrassingly obvious that she was confusing her crush that she'd apologized and backed away, whispering to herself since when did you become such a fucking nerd, Sage!

Nilukshi knows the basics. Orion. Meteor Showers. Total solar eclipses that make the sun look like an enlarged diamond ring; a nighttime sky at noon. She's the kind that would sit out even the major astronomical events because she's so used to city skylines veiled in smog. She, of all people, wouldn't have the time to squint at the night sky searching for constellations and planets.

And...and she set this up. Probably looked up this month's (maybe even this year's) calendar of astronomical events on Google, checked out amateur stargazing clubs, did her research, figured out the perfect timings, the perfect place, even the perfect gear. Chose a suitably dark night where they would need only binoculars. Sage has been through enough of these kinds of trips to know how much work goes into one like this.

And the way she sneaks glances at Sage, from underneath those impossibly long eyelashes of hers, you could tell that the success of every minute of this picnic will hinge on what Sage's own face gives away.

Nilukshi did this. For her. Dove headlong into this...this thing that she barely knew much about before they met, for her.

Goddamit. It should be criminal for that hum beneath her skin - the one that usually tells her that everything in her body is in tip-top shape - to keep running this...this normally. Not when her brain and her soul and her (mechanical) heart feel so out of whack.

Ignorant of the way Sage's thoughts are running riot, Nilukshi rummages through her backpack, not stopping until she takes out a ziplock bag filled with crispy, yellow, star-shaped snacks.

"Koki," her teeth gleam in the darkness. "Amma made these for me when she came over to visit last week."

Sage nods. She remembers Mrs Sigera from the first time she'd come with Nilukshi to the backstage area of the theatre, meeting the cast, clicking poloroids of them all on her cute pink FujiFilm. Sage can almost imagine Nilukshi's features maturing out to look exactly like her mother's when she reaches that age - warm brown skin with faint lines showing, fine crinkles around those wonderful brown eyes, streaks of grey peppering her dark wild hair. She shouldn't hunger for that sight the way she does now - the way she did when she first imagined Basil and Sloane and herself, rocking gently on armchairs, their wizened gnarled hands on her still-youthful ones, watching sunsets - but she does. She does. She wants all of those images to combine and become the truth of her future.

The rice cookies break apart in a satisfying crunch against her teeth, before dissolving into a sweet-savoury blend of coconut milk, and turmeric, with the slightest hint of red chili. The turmeric is perhaps the most prominent flavour - peppery and bright, slightly bitter and earthy and balanced out perfectly with a bit of sugar. If she were to guess, it's the turmeric that gives the koki its distinctive yellow glow, pretty much the way saffron stains Basil's favourite bastani this exact golden hue.

They sit together in a silence that feels both comforting and way too heavy, pretending to focus instead on the emerald glow of Comet Hasegawa, Earth's guest for only a few days before it disappears for another half-millennium. Sage points to the constellation of Leo it passes across; they both smile, recalling the surprise birthday party Dr Eckhart and her team threw, mid-August, for Nilukshi at their rock climbing gym. The comet looks like a streak of glow-in-the-dark phosphorus paint, brushed against the canvas of the sky.

Nilukshi has packed more food than that - maybe too much for this trip - but it's the kokis Sage keeps coming back to, their sweet-saltiness and that mild nuttiness that likely comes from the sesame seeds hidden beneath the surface. She eats slowly, conscious of Nilukshi's expectant gaze.

"Man," Sage whispers, "I could eat my body weight in these, they're so good. Don't tell your mom."

Nilukshi tears her gaze away from her, swallowing as she gazes again at the comet. "Amma only makes them for special people in our lives...and we don't have that many. She'd be pissed if I gave those kokis to anyone else..."

If Sage had any ability to think before she said that, it disappears completely when she hears what Nilukshi says next. "...if I didn't give them to the girl I've fallen so hard for." Fuck. Fuck. Holy shit. She'd been hoping and wishing and terrified of this moment and now it's... "The girl I want to spend the rest of my life with."

Nilukshi says the last one in a terrified whisper. She looks down now, at the grass. Her fingers tremble as they fiddle with a loose thread on the mat.

"Since when?" Sage can barely breathe.

"Since the minute Dr Eckhart dragged Greg Jones' arrogant, trip-sabotaging ass, and then someone let out a belly-laugh that made me think it was the sweetest sound I'd ever heard."

Slowly, swayingly, as if they're both in a dream, Sage inches herself towards her, whispering her name like it's a prayer. Balances herself on her knees, cupping her left cheek, making her look up so Sage can bask in the mixture of desire and fear in her eyes. Her fingers have combed through Nilukshi's hair often enough in her dreams that their softness against her fingertips feels like coming home. Sage feels Nilu's breaths turn shallow as she traces a line of kisses, from temple to jawline to corner of mouth, before covering lips thinner than her own. But the moment Sage's tongue brushes hers, Nilu sighs and almost sinks into her. As she is ready to be absorbed into the pores of Sage's skin, if that's what it takes to get closer.

On Nilukshi's tongue she tastes the creaminess of coconut milk and the slightest dusting of sugar, the light heat of the chili powder and the welcome, golden bitterness of turmeric. She tastes like heaven.

Sage can't bear to move away - even as their lips part - so she keeps her forehead against Nilukshi's and her hands buried in her hair.

"You too?" Nilukshi breathes.

"Goddamit, Nilu. Since the minute we met."

"What about..." Nilukshi flushes and looks away.

Sage understands perfectly, smiles softly at her. "Basil knows. He'd probably cuss me out if I didn't stop moping over you and actually do something about it. I bet he'll get along with your mom like a house on fire."

Nilukshi lets out a watery giggle, then gasps as they stop talking altogether. They kiss again, and again, and again, moaning as Nilukshi catches Sage's lower lip with her teeth, as Sage grabs fistfuls of her dress so she won't fall over.

In the sky above them, Comet Hasegawa is close to completing its journey across the constellation of Leo, ready to continue its path across the universe and out of the solar system. Neither Sage, nor Nilukshi, nor any of the people Sage has loved or will ever love in the future, will see such a sight again in their lifetime.

In their minds, that comet has already passed, already streaked its way through their orbit and faded in relevance. All that remains is starlight and quick gasps and hushed kisses and the taste of spicy-sweet kokis.

Tomorrow, Sage promises herself. She and Nilukshi will need to talk, once this afterglow has faded and they have to think about the reality of their situation.

This is a first for Nilukshi, just as the relationship with Basil had been a first for her. Like Sage, there are going to be things that will scare Nilu. And like Basil, Sage will need to take on the lead a bit. Will need to ask the right questions, say the right words to reassure her, read her body language and listen to her voice and understand at least a little of what Nilukshi's boundaries are. Will need to ease her into the realization that as long as they're honest, as long as they trust each other...this will be okay. They will be okay.

Sage breathes in the smell of fresh grass and rice-coconut cookies, smiles at the stray thought of Basil looking at her, with that proud grin, raising his mug of coffee to her like he's making a toast. Baby, you did perfect.

Tomorrow, Sage promises herself, as the comet they came to watch slowly inches its way, half-seen, out of their orbit. There will be other starlit nights, other fantastic things to see and experience together. They will have so much of tomorrow left to savour.

For tonight, the kisses they share will be magic enough.

--

References:

Basil is my polyam MC, and he dates everyone in the group. Sloane and Sage, too, wind up having other relationships and the three of them live together in the current timeline of this fic. Sage is the Adventurer Hayden (Mysterious, Rebellious, Humourous and Impulsive) but she sometimes showcases opposing traits due to the Double Ripple Effect.

Mashti Malone - A Persian ice cream shop, v popular in LA. I used this video about them as a reference

Bastani - Iranian ice cream which is golden and made with saffron, rosewater and pistachios. Bastani Sonnati is the same, sandwiched between wafers.

Faludeh - A traditional Iranian cold dessert similar to a sorbet. It consists of thin vermicelli-sized noodles made from starch in a semi-frozen syrup containing sugar and rose water.

Koki - An all-time favorite Sri Lankan deep-fried snack made specially during festivals such as Sinhalese and Tamil new year, weddings, and ceremonies. The basic Kokis batter is made of rice flour, salt, turmeric powder, and coconut milk.

Sage's lockscreen in this fic (of Basil and Sage's silhouettes against a supermoon), is a reference to the next fic I'm writing, Harvest Moon

Yes the Dr Eckhart I mention here as the rock climbing professional trainer is Madison from The Freshman. I HC that she went on to do her PhD in Volcanology and runs adventurer courses. 😄

Tagging @choicesficwriterscreations for FoTW, and @choicesseptemberchallenge2023 for Day 14: Poloroid Picture/Clicking special photos of S/O(s) and @choicespride for Bisexual Awareness Week

Tagging @haydenyoungappreciationweek and @sazanes for HYAW 2023 for Day 2: Relationships

[monstersinparadise-saga]

Crackpots & Flapjacks

Book One, Part Two of Monsters In Paradise

(Read Part One Here)

Paradise, Washington turns out to be not as far away as I thought. By the time the sun has fully risen, I’ve arrived on the crest of a hill. To my left the road continues on roughly the same elevation; I can see a residential area beginning to emerge. They’re nice houses, most of them two-story, painted in a lot of pastel colors that seem more endemic to a beach town than the side of a mountain. Some of them have boats in the driveways alongside pickup trucks and medium-size SUVs and hatchbacks, and most of the hatchbacks have kayaks strapped to the top. Outdoorsy town, I think, although I suppose around here you’d have to be.

Along the right-side path the road descends to follow a river emerging from below, a winding path that is still residential but with houses that aren’t as nice. They’re mostly one-story or ranch style, and gravel instead of driveway. There are a few shops down there too, although most of them still look dark. One eyesore sticks out: a neon sign like you’d see advertising a bowling alley, except instead of pins it depicts a stack of pancakes with a pat of butter on top, and a redundant word, HOTCAKES, above it.

This catches my attention for two reasons. One, any local gathering place is a good way to trawl for information for the three main questions I need to urgently solve: who I am, how I died, and how I’m now walking around. I don’t expect a diner to be a place I can get much traction on question number three, but it’s a start in the right direction. 

Two, I am undeniably starving. So starving that I am completely unwilling to contemplate how I have no heartbeat but still need food. Chalk that up to the list of mysteries for after pancakes.

As I go to make my descent, the unmistakable sound of an engine comes up from behind me. I keep my head low, but a large navy-blue van rolls to a stop beside me anyway.

“Hey there, stranger!” 

The speaker is another man, young, with wild-looking hazel eyes and curly blonde hair that is mostly shoved into a grayish baseball cap. He’s got a toothy grin, minus one tooth on the right side of his mouth. “Fancy seein’ you again! You out for a jog?” 

Oh God, we’ve met. He’s as unfamiliar as everything else, but he’s the best chance I’ve gotten so far to figure anything out. “Oh, uh… yeah. Just getting a workout in, you know.” 

“How’s the t-shirt treatin’ ya?” 

He can’t mean the worn-out AC/DC t-shirt I stole from a morgue locker, can he? Did he give me a t-shirt? Does he sell them? “Great,” I say weakly, hoping the response won’t raise suspicion. 

“You want a ride down to Flapjack? I’m headed there myself, and no offense man, but you look dead on your feet.”

Fighting the urge to laugh, I accept, and he pops open his passenger-side door. I slide in and try to scan as much as I can for context clues. 

It’s an old van, a manual transmission with hand-crank windows. Despite that, it seems to be running fine, as the man putters down the steep hill. Hanging from the rearview mirror is some kind of work badge and something else; a small keychain with what appears to be a small stuffed-animal Bigfoot. 

“Those didn’t sell well,” the man says mournfully. “Said it looked too much like a regular gorilla or somethin’. I gottem on sale still if you want one.”

Casting a look behind me, there are racks of clothes built into the interior of the van, along with crates stacked on the bottom. From here I can see a few different designs, paired with bold, all-caps slogans like “I WANT TO BELIEVE” and “RESPECT THE LOCALS”, overlapping creatures’ silhouettes. 

Well. That answers a few questions.

I decide to play my odds. “Remind me, what was your name again?” 

He flashes that grin as the road levels out, bringing us to the strip of shops along the river. “It’s KP! And you’re – wait, wait, wait, don’t tell me…” 

He pulls into a small parking lot right below the neon hotcakes sign and frowns in concentration. I hold my breath, hoping for a lucky break. He sighs. “Dang it. Hold on…” Then he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a scrap of paper from his pants pocket. “That’s right! Max!” He flashes the piece of paper at me, which has the name and a ten-digit number scrawled into it. 

“Ah, that’s right,” I said, relieved. “I forgot I gave you my cell number.” 

“Well I hope it’s not your cell number, man, what use I got for that? Ain’t service out here for miles. This is your hotel number, right?” 

“Right. Of course.”

We get out of the van and head into the diner, which I can see from the sign on the door is called Flapjack, depicted in old script like a classic baseball team. A bell rings as we walk in – there aren’t too many people here, but KP waves to a woman at the counter. “Mornin’, Kris.”

“Morning, Kay! Usual?” 

“Yes, please, and whatever my new buddy here wants.” He flashes me a grin, adding to me, “Got a big tip on my route this morning.”

Perplexed at how a t-shirt and souvenir salesman has a ‘route’, I just slide into a seat at the counter next to him. The woman comes up to me – she’s probably college age, and not wearing any kind of uniform save for a name-tag that reads Krista. She hands me a laminated menu and pulls a pen and pad out of the back pocket of her light-wash jeans. “Whatcha feeling?”

“Pancakes, please,” I say, scanning the menu briefly.

“Comes in a stack of three. That good with you?” 

“Perfect.” 

“Bacon or sausage with that?” 

Automatically I say, “Sausage.” Somewhere in the back of my mind I feel another wave of relief – it’s almost the first real thing I know about myself outside my name, and that I’m not from here. Max, whoever he is, likes sausage over bacon.

“Sure thing. Coffee?” 

“Please.” Before she walks away, I think to ask one more thing. “Oh, hey – I uh, got a little bit turned around this morning, and for the life of me I can’t remember which hotel I’m staying at. Do you recognize this number?” I nod at KP and he fishes the note out of his pocket again, showing it to Krista. 

She looks at me quizzically, but takes it anyway. “Sure; I mean, if you’re staying in town there really aren’t that many options.” She pulls out a small booklet from underneath the counter, which looks like some kind of recommendation list for tourists: local trails, activities, and presumably, lodging. It’s a very thin booklet. “Yeah, this is the number for Paradise Inn. It’s right next to the welcome center; you can’t miss it.”

I thank her and she returns to the kitchen to place our orders. I’m tempted to go running to the hotel right now, abandoning KP and pancakes to go investigate my room, but hunger and politeness get the better of me. Beside me, KP chatters. I’m able to gather from the chatter that at the very least he’s lived in Paradise a long time, and he carries on a number of odd jobs alongside hawking cryptozoological souvenirs, one of which is delivering weekly copies of the Cascadia Spectator newspaper to its subscribers in the nearby area. After checking in on a few other customers dining in the booths, Krista comes back to chat, too, setting down two coffees in front of us in heavy ceramic mugs. I take a sip – it’s bitter enough that even if pre-death Max didn’t take cream in his coffee, I decide he does now.

“Any sightings this week, KP?” She asks, waggling her eyebrows conspiratorially.

He shakes his head. “Naw. Some guy over in Lewis County tried to sell me that he seen a flyin’ saucer the other day, though. Swore up and down, til I pulled up the NASA reports and showed him it was just some space junk fallin’ outta orbit.”

“How’d he take it?”

KP snorts. “Guy kept insisting. Anyway, he got real mad when I didn’t pay him.”

Krista turns to me. “KP offers rewards for reports on sightings of weird stuff,” she explains. “UFOs, Bigfoots, stuff like that.” 

“It’s just Bigfoot, Kris. It’s the singular collective, like how lots of fish is still fish.”

I smile. Suddenly I like KP a lot. “Got a high burden of proof, KP?”

“Sure do! I mean, anybody’ll do anything for a buck, you know? But folks still need motivation to come forward with stuff; they’re used to bein’ laughed at by the cops, or they’ve been intimidated by the Men In Black. But a fifty-buck reward will grease a lotta wheels.”

Krista disappears into the kitchen and returns with two steaming plates. She sets pancakes and sausage down in front of me, and a big omelette stuffed full of mushrooms, cheese, and peppers in front of KP, along with toast. KP takes a bottle of ketchup and squirts it liberally in a zigzag over his eggs, while I lather my breakfast with warm maple syrup.

“KP runs a blog,” Krista says helpfully. “The Watcher.”

“Been thinkin’ about a re-name,” KP says, mid-chew. “Not great SEO, if I’m bein’ honest.” He swallows, pointing his fork at a rack by the door. “Kris here’s probably the biggest fan; keeps printouts of articles by the door.” 

While they talk, I try to eat as calmly as I can, but God in heaven these are good pancakes. Fluffy and tender and they taste like butter and a hundred-year-old griddle pan that someone’s been taking care of their whole life.

“It’s good for business,” Kris shrugs, though it’s clear from her expression that her interest isn’t purely pragmatic. “The more people come around looking for weird stuff, the more omelettes we sell. Besides, a lot more people like The Watcher than just me.”

“Just not people around here,” KP says under his breath.

I tilt my head between bites. “Locals aren’t a fan of you?”

“Naw. But it’s not their fault. This town was supposed to get a big leisure industry; there were plans for a big resort until not too long ago. But it all went belly-up.” 

“Why’s that?”

“Protected species. Big population of – what was it, Kris?” 

“White-tailed Ptarmigan,” Kris supplies. “It’s a kind of bird that makes its nest in the ground, and populations were found too close to the building site. In fact,” she adds, “It’s probably gonna stop damn near anything from being built around here for a long time.”

I nod slowly. “So people are sour about that?”

“Big-time,” says KP, now attacking his toast. “But I don’t care none. I looked up pictures of them birds; they’re cute – I’d rather have a Ptarmigan than a resort, anyway.”

Kris hums her agreement as the door swings open again. A dark-skinned young woman with her hair in long braids walks in, wearing a hoodie over what appear to be scrubs, paired with chunky sneakers. She walks behind the counter, giving a kiss on the cheek to Kris before pouring herself a mug of coffee.

“Hey, sugar. Long shift?” Kris asks. 

The woman nods wearily. “Not too intense. Just a couple hiking accidents, mostly. And that flu going around.”

“You should really sleep before you study, you know,” Kris says, sliding her arm around the woman’s waist and giving her coffee a well-practiced stink-eye.

The woman doesn’t respond, just raises the mug to her lips – but she stops before she gets there, because she makes eye contact with me, and freezes. 

Her recognition shocks me to my core. There’s something in her face; some combination of confusion, fear, and anger present on her face, though I can’t estimate how much of each.

There’s a big problem here, I can tell; and it’s one I can’t deal with until I know more about myself and why I’m here. I react, standing up quickly, leaving behind a quarter of a plate of pancakes and half a sausage link. “Thanks for breakfast,” I say to KP, before giving a short wave goodbye and setting off out the door, exhaling deeply as I leave the Flapjack Diner behind. A quick scan shows me that the welcome center, marked by a large flag, is up another small hill towards the mountain.

As I climb, the I see the silhouette of the Paradise Inn. A two-story, log-cabin-looking affair, it’s the picture of a quaint countryside hotel. There’s a parking lot with around eighteen spots, but only two of them are full. At the front desk, there’s a bald man with glasses leaning back in a swivel chair. 

“Erm… hello. I seem to have misplaced my… room key,” I say awkwardly. 

The desk guy raises an eyebrow. “Room number?” 

“Uh…. Lost that too.”

“ID?” 

“…You’ll never guess.” I smile weakly. “Left my wallet in the room.” God, I’m getting so tired of guessing and lying.

He snorts. “Mountain air got to your head, did it?”

“Actually, I took a fall on my run this morning. I’m fine, but, you know. A little fuzzy.”

“Well, I trust you know your name, at least,” the desk guy says, firing up an ancient-looking computer on the desk.

“Yeah. Max.”

“That’s right. Max. Paid cash.” He doesn’t ask a last name. Maybe it’s a small-town thing. “Right; you checked in a week ago. Room 12 – down the hall on the right.” He pulls a fresh key card from the scanner. “Try not to lose this one.”

I grimace. “Understood.”

The room, once I find it, has a Do Not Disturb sign on the door. “Guess I don’t like visitors,” I mumble to myself, before pressing the keycard to the lock and swinging the door open. 

It’s spare in there – no television or anything; just a bed, a desk, a lamp on a small side table, and an old armchair. There’s a duffel bag on the bed, and again I’m disappointed as it fails to evoke any recognition. The clothes inside are basic – jeans, some plaid button-ups, the usual unmentionables. 

The bed is mildly slept-in, but other than that, there isn’t much to go on. There’s an empty bottle of water and a crumbled wrapper from a gas-station sandwich in the trash can, but that’s it. As I’m about to tear my hair out in frustration, I realize – the drawer on the bed-side table is slightly ajar. I pull it open, and if I needed to breathe, the sight would have taken knocked the wind out of me.

There’s a wallet there, sure, but more pressingly – a sleek black handgun, and a badge with credentials. 

FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION

SPECIAL AGENT MAX VALLER

“Oh, fuck.” 

I pick up the badge, the weight of at least one mystery finally off my back. This is me. I have a last name, a job, a damn badge number. I could use the hotel phone and call the number listed right here and someone who knows me would arrange for me to get out of here, back to wherever I’m from, back to whoever might be missing me. I have a life, somewhere, and it’s right here in my hands.

Except. 

Except I’m very dead.

I’m dead, but I’m not, and no one can know, or I’ll be stuck in a facility to be tested until whatever spark of life still within me is pulled out with tweezers. And then I’ll really be dead.

I’m sure of almost nothing, except for the fact that I really really don’t want to be really dead.

I shove the credentials back in the drawer and shut it. No one knows I’m dead, and it needs to stay that way.

My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of crackling behind me.

“Hands up. Turn around. Real slow.”

I comply, as still as I can. It’s the woman with the braids from the diner, standing in the door that I stupidly left ajar in my fervor for answers. She’s holding a taser, and the look on her face tells me she’ll use it.

“You want to tell me what the fuck,” she says fiercely, “a corpse I put on a slab not three hours ago is doing walking around town?”

(Read Part Three)

[e-carlease]

The new electric MG convertible might therefor be well placed to offer a more balanced option for those customers looking for a performance experience. Building upon the brand’s heritage and presence, this is anything other than a boring car. With formidable power and acceleration, plus a whole host of luxury and sporty finishes. As UK customers can discover on their configurator (https://www.mgcyberster.co.uk/configurator), there are two key options to choose from including:

Trophy - from £54,995 this is a Single Motor with 19” alloys; and

GT - from £59,995 this is a Dual Motor with 20” alloys.   

Standard options include auto LED headlights, electrically adjustable / heated / folding door mirrors, front / rear parking sensors, electric scissor doors, fully electric good, launch control, 7” touch screen, wraparound 3-screen cockpit, 8-spekaer BOSE audio, adaptive cruise control, lane keep assist, active emergency braking, lane change assist, blind spot assist, heated seats, electric lumbar support, leather seats, wind deflector, climate control, keyless entry, ambient lighting, navigation, parking camera and V2L.            

Colours include English White, Camden Grey, Cosmic Silver, Dynamic Red and Inca Yellow. Also choose between a standard black hood or, for the white / grey / silver option, consider the red hood. Inside, the interior options include Black / Red or Grey.  

And how does the new Cyberster perform?

Trophy - this RWD Convertible will have a 74 kWh usable battery which will offer 0 – 62 times of 5.0 seconds, 121 mph top speeds and 250 kW (or 335hp). Expect a combined winter range of 225 miles with warmer weather allowing for 305 miles – a 265 mile combined. On charging, the 7.4 kW AC max will allow 12 hour and 30 min 0 – 100% charging times with the 144 kW DC maximum allowing 39 minute 10 – 80% times. A cargo volume of 249L is available with this car. It has a vehicle fuel equivalent of 144 mpg. It has Bidirectional capabilities, with the V2L (vehicle-to-load) supported; and

GT- this AWD Convertible will have a 74 kWh usable battery which will offer 0 – 62 times of 3.2 seconds, 124 mph top speeds and 375 kW (or 503hp). Expect a combined winter range of 210 miles with warmer weather allowing for 285 miles – a 250 mile combined. On charging, the 7.4 kW AC max will allow 12 hour and 30 min 0 – 100% charging times with the 144 kW DC maximum allowing 39 minute 10 – 80% times. A cargo volume of 249L is available with this car. It has a vehicle fuel equivalent of 136 mpg. It has Bidirectional capabilities, with the V2L (vehicle-to-load) supported.

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

Promises (Part 2)

Fandom: DC, The Suicide Squad, Rick Flag

Summary: After you walked out of his life, Rick never thought he would hear from you again. However, he never imagined that if he did get a call from your phone, it would be like this....

Word Count: 3563

TW: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Impaling, Blood, Heartbreak, Pain, Happy Ending

Part 1, Part 2, Part 2 Alt POV

Series Masterlist

Rick is still sitting at his desk at Belle Reve when he gets the call. In the three months since you had left, he had thrown himself headfirst into work even more than before. He had slept at the prison more often than he had slept in the apartment because every time he walked through those doors, all he saw was you. And the loss was just as painful and fresh as the day you left.

So, when his phone lights up to display your smiling face for the first time in months, Rick dives for it immediately. Fumbling slightly in excitement, he answers with breathless delight. “Darlin’, it’s so great to hear from you. I-”

“Are you Rick Flag?” The male voice on the other end of the call cut Rick off.

Stunned, Rick hesitates a moment before stuttering, “Ye-yeah. I’m Flag. Who the hell are you?”

“Not important right now. The woman whose phone this is…. She was just in a really bad car accident.”

Rick’s heart freezes and for a second, he can’t breathe. When he manages to compose himself, he asks, “Is she okay?”

Rick heard the man take a deep breath, but he didn’t say anything. Rick waits a few seconds but when the silence continues, he barks, “Damn it! Is she okay?”

“I…. I don’t know. I called 911 but they haven’t shown up yet. She’s, um, she….. it’s not good. A large truck slammed into her car and pushed it into a metal gate. One… one of the bars from the gate…. She’s pinned in the car.”

“But is she conscious? Is she talking?”

“Barely. She wouldn’t tell me her name or anything else. All she kept saying over and over was ‘Call Flag. Call Rick Flag.’ So, I found your name in her phone and called you. And I’m no doctor, but if you care about this woman, you might want to get here…. Now.”

Rick quickly gets the location information and tears out of the room. He can hear Waller calling after him, ordering him back to his desk, but he only starts running faster down the hall. He doesn’t care about what kind of punishment she might have for him tomorrow. Right now, you are the only thing on his mind.

Luckily, the accident is only a few miles from the prison, so he manages to make it there in record time. His truck barely rolls to a stop before he is out and rushing to what is left of your car. Even from this distance, he can see the crumpled cube the car has become and the thick pipe jutting through the windshield.

As he runs towards it, he gets his first glimpse of you. The pipe that is sticking through the windshield enters the interior of the car and disappears into your stomach just below your ribs, pinning you into the driver’s seat.

Rick picks up his pace, but just before he can reach you, he is stopped by a few men who are trying to hold back the gathering crowd. “Sorry, buddy. We need to keep this area clear for the emergency vehicles,” one of the men says.

“That’s my girlfriend! She was asking for me and I have to see her! Now let me through!” Rick snarls.

“You Flag?” A third man walks over. Rick recognizes the phone clutched in his hand. It’s yours. The screen slightly cracked in the beat-up purple case. He wonders if he were to check your lock screen if the picture of the two of you on your birthday would still stare back at him.

Rick nods at the man and flashes his id. The man with the phone nods back and says, “Let him through. He’s the one I called a few minutes ago.”

The other two men step aside and Rick rushes over to you. Up close, you look even worse. It seems as if you must have hit your head on something during the crash because blood has matted in your hair and flowed down your face. Your skin is a sickly color beneath a thick layer of sweat, your chest is rising and falling at a frantic, irregular rate, and your eyes are closed as your head slumps to the side, facing him.

He gently calls out your name, trying to keep the tears out of his voice, and your eyes slowly open. They are momentarily glazed with pain but quickly focus on him.

“Rick….” A small, tired smile crept over your lips. “You came. I didn’t know if you would.”

Your voice is weak and shaky with a slight wheeze in every breath, but it is still music to Rick’s ears. He carefully cups your face in his large palm. “’Course I came, darlin’. Where else would I be?”

You lean your head heavily into his hand. “I needed to see you. One more time.”

Rick’s blood ran cold, but he just shakes his head. “Hey, none of that. You’re gonna be fine. The ambulance will be here any minute then they’ll get you out of here and patched up in no time.”

However, you continue on as if he hadn’t spoken. “I needed to tell you…. I don’t regret leaving.” Rick felt as if you had just slapped him across the face. You had called him here just to tell him that? But you continue. “I couldn’t keep living like that. In that situation. But….” Rick sees tears forming in your eyes. “But I’ve missed you… every single day.”

“Really?” Rick asks, not quite believing what you had just said. “‘Cause, darlin’, I’ve missed you every day too. Every minute. And what I said when you left….” It pains him to even think of the last thing he said to you as you walked out the door.

“I know. I know, baby. I never thought you meant it. You were just… hurting. But Rick… I still love you. I’ll always… love… you…” Your voice begins to waver and fade as your eyes droop lower and lower until they finally shut.

Rick gently squeezes your arm. “Hey… Hey! Darlin’! Come on, stay with me! I love you too. So, so much. And I need you to stay awake.” He glances down the street where he can see the flashing red-and-blue lights of the ambulance arriving. “Help’s here, but you need to wake up. Okay? Please.”

But you don’t open your eyes. And even more worrisome, Rick notices that your breathing is starting to gradually slow. He is about to check your pulse when two paramedics run up beside him and push him out of the way. As Rick looks on, they begin checking your vitals and examining your injury. As they begin to prod the area around the pipe, you let out a low moan.

Rick tries to approach you once more, but the man who called him on your phone is suddenly beside him. Gently, he takes Rick’s arm and says, “I’m sorry, Colonel, but I think it’s better if you step over here. It’s probably better if you don’t see this.”

Rick gives you one last glance, the almost non-existent rise and fall of your chest and the pain etched in your pinched face, and he nods. He allows the other man to lead him over to his truck. But even at this distance, he hears your screams as the EMTs begin to separate you from the pipe. Rick instinctually tries to bolt to your side, but the other man holds him back. Every shriek, every wail, sends a dagger through Rick’s heart as he slowly sinks to the ground and rests his head in the dirt. You have seen him half dead and in pain hundreds of times, but he had never had to know what it felt like on this side of things. What it felt like to be completely helpless as the person he loved most in the world was hurting and there was nothing he could do about it.

Finally, he sees the EMTs ease your motionless body from the car and place you on the waiting stretcher. As they rush you to the ambulance, the man with the phone finally releases his grip on Rick so he stumbles to his feet and sprints to the emergency vehicle. Just as they have you loaded up and are about to close the back doors, Rick skids to a stop. “Wait! I need to go with her! Please! She asked for me, she wants me to be here with her!”

One of the EMTs shakes his head. “I’m sorry, sir. Family only. You’ll have to follow behind.”

He starts to shut the door again, but Rick thrusts his hand in the way. “Damn it! She’s my fiancée!” The man looks at Rick skeptically. “Please. I proposed three months ago. She-she is everything to me. I have to know she’s okay. Please, let me come.”

The man still hesitates, but the driver yells over his shoulder, “Just let him in, Mark! We need to get going, now!”

The man, Mark, nods. “Fine, get in.”

Rick scrambles into the ambulance with a thankful nod. Mark scoots over slightly to give Rick room to slide in next to your gurney. They had already strapped an oxygen mask over your ashen face, but you seem to be barely breathing. There are large pieces of gauze pressed into the wound on your stomach, but it is already turning red with your blood. When Rick gently takes your hand, it is cool to the touch despite the heat and the fine layer of sweat that coats your skin. And as the ambulance pulls out onto the street and the sirens begin to scream out into the night, Rick silently prays that they will get you help in time.

Your eyes slowly opened to take in the stark white room around you. Sluggishly and carefully looking around, you quickly realize three things: One, you are in a hospital. Two, you are in a great deal of pain, especially around your stomach area. And three, you are completely alone.

Through the foggy haze that is your mind at the moment, you vaguely remember being in a car accident, being pinned in the car, and….. Rick. He had come when you asked for him. Part of you had doubted he would actually show up, but when you opened your eyes and saw him kneeling there, your heart had soared despite the situation.

But as you glance over at the empty chair beside your bed, that feeling of joy fades. Of course he hadn’t stuck around. Not after the way you left him. You remember him telling you he still loved you just before you passed out, but it was probably just from the heat of the moment. Words you say to comfort a dying girl, not words he really meant.

As the door opens and a nurse walks in, you slyly wipe the tears from the corners of your eyes. She smiles when she sees you’re no longer unconscious. “Good morning! It’s great to see you awake!”

“What happened? I remember the accident then…” Your voice is groggy and hoarse, but it is clear enough for her to understand.

“They had to rush you into surgery. Luckily, the pipe that impaled you in the accident missed the important stuff. You’re probably still going to be in some pain for a while, but the doctors are expecting a full recovery!” She says as she begins to check your vitals.

You nod softly. Then, after a moment’s hesitation, you work up the courage to ask, “Have I had any visitors?”

The nurse gives you a small, sad smile. “Sorry, hun, but not that I know of. But is there someone I can call for you? Maybe they don’t know you’re here.”

He knew. Once again, you try to hold back your tears with a fake smile on your lips, “No, that’s alright. I was just curious.”

She gives your hand a small squeeze before she begins to give you more information about your condition and recovery. But you tune it out. All you can think of is the look on Rick’s face when you first opened your eyes and his words, “’Course I came, darlin’. Where else would I be?” Where else indeed.

Two days after you woke up in the ICU, they transferred you to the general ward a few floors down. You have yet to have a visitor and any hope you had had of Rick coming to see you had died after the first day. So, you are beyond shocked when on the third day, there is a knock on the door and the colonel hesitantly enters the room.

He gives you a small smile as he takes in your appearance. “Hey, darlin’. I hope it’s okay I stopped by.”

You nod softly but don’t say anything. Slowly, he approaches the bed and lowers himself into the seat next to you, resting the backpack he had slung over his shoulder on the ground by his feet. Looking at him, the sight of him waiting next to your bed sends a stab of pain through your chest. This was what you had hoped to see days ago when you first woke up and now…. you weren’t sure what to make of it.

Rick stares intently into your eyes. “God, you look so much better than the last time I saw you. You really had me worried there for a little while.”

“I guess not too worried since you didn’t check on me before now,” you softly murmur, casting your gaze to the floor.

“What do you mean? They didn’t tell you? I’ve been in the waitin’ room almost from the moment they brought you in. They found out once we got to the hospital that I wasn’t really your fiancée so I wasn’t allowed in the ICU. It’s family only. Which is bullshit but even when I tried pulling rank, they didn’t budge.” Your eyes flicker back to his face, and you see a slight pain there. “Did you really think I didn’t want to see you? To know that you were okay?”

You give a small shrug. “I wasn’t sure what to think. No one told me I could only have family visitors and, I mean, we are broken up. I just thought… But they moved me here yesterday. Why didn’t you come sooner if you’ve been here the whole time?”

“They didn’t tell me they were goin’ to move you, or I would have made sure to be here. I swear. But, I brought you somethin’. Well, two somethin’s.” He reaches into his backpack and pulls out the purple stuffed dog you had left behind when you moved out. “When you left, I was gonna throw it out, but…. I just couldn’t. And I know you didn’t want it, but I hate the idea of you bein’ here by yourself. So, I thought you might want some company.”

You smile as he hands it to you. Those same Rick-colored hazel eyes stare back at you and you draw it into your chest. It’s fainter than before, but you manage to catch a small whiff of that signature blend of Rick and you that you remember from the last time you had held it. It means so much that Rick had kept it, but for the first time since the accident, you realize what calling Rick might seem like to him. As much as you still love him and were upset when he wasn’t there before, you know that you can’t go back to the way things were.

So, as you continue to stare at the dog, you say, “I did miss him….” You hesitate a second as you choose your next words wisely. “I missed him more than I ever thought possible…. But nothing has changed. It wouldn’t be fair for me to take him back just to leave again when things go back to normal. Just because I got hurt, it doesn’t mean anything else is different.”

Rick leans in closer to you as he asks, “But what if something has changed? What then? Would you consider taking…. him back?”

“Rick…” You sigh exhaustedly. “We both know nothing’s going to change.”

“Well, that’s the second thing I brought you and why I wasn’t here sooner.” He pulls a folder out of his backpack and hands it to you.

You take it and open it to the first page. As you begin to read it, your eyes grow wide, and your mouth drops open. Turning back to him, you whisper, “This can’t be real.”

Rick smiles softly. “As of 10:00 this morning, it is. I resigned from ARGUS, from the military, from all of it.”

“But you can’t just… you’re enlisted…. that’s not how things work!” You exclaim.

“It is when you still know the location of a certain drive filled with secret government information. That tends to grease the bureaucratic wheels some.” He chuckles before turning serious again. “You were right. I shoulda done it months ago. Back right after Corto Maltese. But I was stupid, and I was selfish.”

He sighs as he runs his hand across the back of his neck. “I didn’t know. And I should’ve because you told me over and over again…. But I didn’t listen. I was so used to knowin’ how it felt being on the other side. Knowin’ that one wrong move meant I wasn’t comin’ home to you. I knew that pain, that fear. But I never truly understood what it was like just sittin’ and waitin’, with nothin’ to do but worry. Scared to death every time a doctor passed by, knowin’ the next one might be here to tell me the worst had happened. Seein’ what had happened to you, how hurt you were, and knowin’ there was nothin’ I could do to make it better. And I put you through that every damn time I went into the field. Even when you begged me…. I’m so sorry, darlin’. I’m so, so sorry.” He hangs his head in shame. “And I know I don’t deserve it, but I was hopin’ this might mean we could give us another shot.”

“And what if I say no. That it’s too little, too late.” The words come out of your mouth before you even realize you said them. But you still wait for his response.

Rick nods. “Then I couldn’t blame you. You gave me three years to get my act together and it took you almost dyin’ to make me come to my senses. It should have never gone that far. I should’ve left the first or second time you tried to explain it to me. So, if it’s still not enough, if you can’t forgive me, I understand.”

“But what if…. What if you resent me for it later? A few months down the line and you are in a new job you hate, are you going to hate me for making you give up your life’s work?”

Rick gently takes your hand as he says, “Darlin’, none of that matters as long as I have you. Besides, it’s never sat right with me workin’ for Waller again after everythin’ that happened. But this was the push I needed to realize how truly fucked up it was. So, no matter what you decide, I’m done and I’m not ever goin’ back.”

Tears well up in your eyes as you fully grasp what he has done and the sacrifice he has made for you. You had always known what you were asking was no small thing and it would mean he would be fundamentally changing his life forever. And now that he had actually done it, you couldn’t believe it!

He sees your tears and tries to reassure you, “Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to make any decisions right now. You can take as much time as you need to-”

But you interrupt him. “I don’t need time. I already know.” He eyes you warily, unsure of what you will say next. “Rick, this is all I ever needed. Sure, I wish you would have done this sooner, but it’s done. So, yes, I forgive you. Yes, I want you back. Yes, I love you with everything in me. And yes, let’s give this another shot.”

“Really?” He asks, his face a mix of disbelief and awe.

You nod and he is on you in an instant. Hands weaving through your hair as he pulls you into him, mouth crashing into yours, tongue sliding past your lips. It was as if he were trying to make up for lost time while also showing you what your answer meant to him. And you returned his embrace with just as much passion and love.

Finally, you break apart. Rick leans his head against yours as you both breathlessly take in what had just happened. You gently reach up and caress his cheek as you whisper, “Can you do me one thing?”

“Anythin’, darlin’.”

“Promise me next time it won’t take one of us ending up in the hospital for us to keep making these life-changing realizations.”

Rick chuckles as he places a small kiss on the tip of your nose. “I promise.”

[gabiiis-world]

It doesn't hurt anymore.

10/30/23

I started thinking about you again.

No. You don't have the right.

Not after what you did to me.

With yourself.

With us.

I went to that party you didn't want to go to, we both know you're the weird type and don't socialize. Thinking that you are, as always, the "cool one". I went as Cat-Woman. I remembered our conversations. Again. I would loosen up and open up, and say how much I loved DC and you would say how much better Marvel was, and we just understood each other more. At least that's what I thought.

I finished that book on astrology and remembered how skeptical you were, and only believed in the divine breath.

 It doesn't hurt anymore.

 I've already transformed. Did it hurt? Like hell. But it was necessary. And it was also necessary for me to understand this. What bothers me is that you haven't disincarnated yet. My screaming cries were not enough for you and your arrogant, masculine nature.

Like your father.

At the same party I kept hearing about how you still resent me. I almost felt sorry for you. It gnawed at me inside the fact that I could still feel or pulse some measly thing for you. I realized it was never me. Neither you. It was nobody.

That simple.

All this pain, this resentment, this screaming all in my mind, mixed with new and intimate intensity. To have the answer that no one is to blame? I was perplexed. Not with the situation, because like i said, it doesn't hurt anymore, but with how the painful peeling was worth it. 

In me. 

Because, for you, it would still take a while. And when the time came, you would stubbornly deny it. Because you're just like that.

And that's how I am.

It was intense.

It was new.

It was intrinsic, roughly intimate.

I had never opened up, revealed myself so much to someone, I had promised myself that I would never do it again. But your dumb, inexperienced and strangely peculiar ways made me throw everything backfired, and tell myself to simply; “Be crazy for once. Don't deny your feelings, see if it's worth it”

I'd be lying if I admitted that I didn't think about you once after the block. After the fateful click. I would be lying even more if I said that I no longer feel an ounce of anger. Or even just the need for your touch as if your flames don't corrupt me to ecstasy. 

But now, I've learned to control them. Heavy, as it took care of me. Now, I tame her. I did to her what you did to me once.

This is my farewell to you.

I won't deny that it is possible that I will still think about you in the future.

We are prisoners of our own mind, right?

But it doesn't hurt anymore.

Now, I just needed to spit out what was left, so I wouldn't swallow it.

Or worse, choke me.

I also know that I may not forget you, but I'm sure you won't forget me. Because before leaving, before closing the door, my perfume, the one you loved so much, permeated your interior and choked you with alcohol, with memories, with my haircut, with my nails, with how we skipped class, how we talked at dawn, and in the morning we slept in geography class.

I poisoned you. I admit it. But it was necessary. One day you will understand.

But know that I won't wait for you any longer.

I killed myself waiting.

Now I'm going. Alone. I need to.