#it came with a faulty hard drive and doesn’t like to turn on

[cosmicnovaflare]

what iPad do u use

For a while I think I was using an iPad 6? but it came with broken buttons, so the store replaced it with an iPad Air 3rd Generation instead of fixing it. I currently use the Air for all my sketches and base colouring, but it doesn’t work when it’s charging and corrupts my canvases if I try, so I borrow an iPad Pro to finish most things, hence why it takes so long to finish something.

[loyalshipper]

May I introduce the Tumblr DC community to one of my two favorite Batfam AUs I have created. Bruce Wayne owns a hotel/museum near an ocean cliff and still has a chronic adoption problem but doesn’t fight crime. (If anyone writes this you can make it to where heroes still exist, the Batfam are the inly no capes)

WE still exists but it isn’t run by Bruce it is run by Lucius because back in the 60s Thomas and Martha bought the hotel and wanted that to be their legacy. They still die the same way but Bruce puts all his efforts into running and blossoming the hotel which was his parent’s dream project.

I’ll get back into the hotel in a minute I’m taking about the kids now

Dick is gotten a similar way, he visits the Cape with Haly’s Circus, his parents die because of faulty wiring sold to the circus by Zucco and Dick becomes an orphan. Bruce just so happened to use his one night off in a while to go see the circus. He keeps thinking about Dick and ends up adopting him. He helps Dick and the Circus bring Zucco to justice and sues the hell out of him and shuts down his business. (Adopted at 8))

Jason was found living in one of the shut down rooms of the hotel. Because his dad left and was in prison and his mom od. So Bruce treats him like a wild animal and starts to leave food out on a regular schedule until Jason gets comfortable with him and he adopts Jason. (five years younger than Dick)

Tim was the son of two wealthy archaeologists who were gone 11 out of the 12 months. Bruce met Tim because he liked to come into the museum and take pictures of the museum exhibits and hotel architecture and shoreline which he would develop and give copies to Bruce. So he opens his house to this little boy with a penchant for photography. Until one day Tim’e parents call Tim telling him that they are staying in Egypt permanently because the archeological dig is producing wonderous results and they’ll be hiring him an around the clock sitter. Only for Tim to wait three weeks and no one shows up. They went so far as to fire Ms. Mac but never hired a sitter for their son. So he goes to Bruce in tears and explains everything, because this is it-his parents finally did abandon him, and Bruce sues them for custody of Tim. (Three years younger than Jason, adopted at 7)

Damian was the result of a relationship Bruce had in college while studying hotel management and hospitality. Talia is the daughter of a hotel conglomerate owner who is currently trying to buy Bruce’s hotel so it can be torn down and Ra’s can built a new hyper expensive hotel in its place. Damian was sent to live with Bruce to try and get Bruce to have Damian inherit the hotel so Ra’s can get it and destroy it, but that backfired because instead Damian falls in love with the hotel and his new family (reluctantly) and wants to see the hotel and museum flourish, not tear down this historical piece of architecture to replace it with a soulless hotel only available to the wealthy elite. But something available to everyone that families vacation to because there is so much history and beauty in a thing that has stood for centuries. So Damian turns against Ra’s. Due not that while Damian and Tim do have a sibling rivalry it is not as vicious and cutting as it is in canon. They love each other they just don’t mesh well while in the same room. And yes, Damian still has his variety of pets (7 years younger than Tim)

Cass came to the hotel with her “father,” David Cain, who went to the Cape for business, and just ended up leaving and forgetting Cass at the hotel. He was still abusive and Cass had trouble speaking but he wasn’t “turn Cass into the world’s greatest assassin” abusive. After Bruce finds Cass, he sues Cain for parental custody and then ruins his life unrepentantly. (Couple of months older than Jason)

After Martha and Thomas died, Alfred took over managing the hotel while Bruce was still growing up and while he was getting his degrees, now he is the grandfather to Bruce’s many kids and helps to keep them running and cared for while they run and care for the hotel. He’s also the one that helps the new kids transfer into the life of running a hotel.

Barbara is the daughter of the Police Comissioner still who became friends with Dick and works, first part time at the museum/hotel and then full time. Same with Steph and Tim (1 year older than Dick)

Cullen and Harper work at the museum, Helena works at the hotel. Carrie does both. Duke is the newest acquisition. Only, his parents disappeared and no one has been able to find them yet. So Bruce currently had temporary custody of Duke who lives at the hotel with everyone. (Harper is a year older than Tim, Cullen is a year younger than Tim, Carrie is the same age as Jason, Duke is a few months younger than Tim)

Each person has different jobs. (Dick is concierge/check-in, Jason does guided history tours of the hotel/museum/grounds, Tim works in financials because he deals with the least amount of people, Helena, Carrie and Steph are both maids, Carrie also does janitorial stuff with Cullen, Barbara works hotel check-in with Dick, Barbara and Harper work cashier at the gift shop, Duke doesn’t have a job yet because he is still dealing with the disappearance of his parents, Damian does every job to see where he fits in best.

JARRO IS THE FAMILY PET STARFISH THAT TIM ADOPTED WHEN HE FIRST JOINED THE FAMILY AND RESCUED FROM BEING EATEN OFF THE BEACH

The hotel is still fully staffed with not-batkids, like grounds keepers and other hotel cleaners and janitors.

Location time!

I’m turning Gotham nicer and changing the geography of the city.

The hotel Museum rests about 200 yds from a cliff that overlooks a beach. There is a well maintained stair case put into the cliff for people to walk down, as well as a longer gravel path that follows the cliff edge down to the shoreline. It is frequented by seals, sea lions, and in the distance, dolphins and whales. The hotel it’s self has about 100 or so acres of land and a long drive but it is technically within walking distance to the city. And it’s a normal coastal town with a port and touristic areas. Kinda eerie at night when the fog rolls in but that’s part of the charm of the NorthEast.

Selina is just Bruce’s friend in this. She is Helena’s mother and Bruce was a surrogate for her. She decided she wanted a baby and Bruce offered to be a donor. So Selina had Helena and Bruce is part of her life but not as her dad, which was the agreement. Selina takes care of the stray animals on the grounds and favors the cats.

Clark is a reporter that was tasked to right an article on the hotel and it’s history, became good friends with Bruce and brings his family (Lois, Jon, Bizarro, Kon, Kara, Lena, Chris, Ma, Pa, and Lex) on vacation to it every year. Lex and Clark are divorced husbands that left on good terms and are friendly enough to coparent their son, Connor, who was made the same way as canon but less hush hush and illegally, Kara is Clark’s cousin and Lena is her fiancée, Lois is his wife, Jon and Bizarro are their two biological sons (Bizarro has autism), Chris is their foster son. Bizarro latches onto Jason in a way that he hasn’t before and always loves coming to the hotel, Jon and Chris are best friends with Damian, Connor and Tim are long distance dating.

Collin, Maya, and Maps are Damian’s best friends from school (Damian has a crush on Collin) and he’s trying to convince them to join the hotel staff like his siblings’ friends but they are a) too young and b) not interested.

Roy has all of his problems as in canon and gets help for it, so as a way to try and bring the family closer, Oliver and Dinah arrange a vacation to the hotel for them Roy and Lian. As a stepping stone kind of thing. Get away from daily stress. Roy is resistant at first until he and Jason hit it off and start talking and Jason talks sense into him and they strike up a friendship turned romance.

The Flashfam visit the museum diring a countrywide roadtrip and mad the stop because Bart is a history buff and wouldn’t stop talking about it the entire trip. He becomes fast friends with Tim and is the only person to ever get a Tim Wayne history tour. No matter what Kon tells you he is super salty about it. Wally and Dick were internet friends and used the roadtrip as a way to be able to meet up.

Thad is the obligatory complainer who doesn’t want to stay in a musty old hotel.

Ivy is the main grounds keeper and is in charge of the native wildlife sanctuary most of the land is used for, as well as taking care of the native plantlife and lives in town with her girlfriend, Harley. Harley helps the kids prank Bruce.

Harley is a children’s psychiatrist hired by Bruce to help the kids deal with their various traumas. Her coming to the hotel for sessions is how she and Ivy met.

They started dating between Dick and Jason and Dick talks up each of them to the other, but each individual kid that comes in think they’d be cute together (since they are both professional while working there isn’t immediate proof that they are dating. But they will flirt with each other if they see each other) and it’s basically a right if passage to try and convince their siblings to help them get together and then try and set them up on their own and find out the hard way that they’re already together. They love seeing all the different way the kids try and set them up. They tend to go along with it until either the kids realise or they take pity on them.

Their favorite was Damian’s where he set up an entire romantic dinner at the hotel restaurant and Dick managed to slyly convince him to set it on a certain day that turned out to be Harley and Ivy’s anniversary.

Alfred is the head chef for the hotel, making room service meals and the breakfast buffet line up. Jason will help him out if he isn’t busy with other things.

Victor Fries and his wife hold an ice cream social ever summer at the hotel with all the ice cream flavors they came up with over the last year.

Edward Nygma, famous escape room designer, is hired to make an escape room themed on the hotel and museum that is built on the grounds near the main building.

Another ritual that starts, begins with Tim, where the older siblings convince the newest one that the hotel is haunted and Jason takes them on a “haunted ghost tour” of the abandoned part of the hotel (the part that is too dilapidated and run down to remodel safely) while the others are stationed at different parts of the hotel and grounds to run whatever scenario to scare the new kid. The only one that hasn’t been done to is Cass because even after several years she still jumps a little too hard at loud noises. But one time Jason accident closed a door a little too harshly while Cass and Tim were doing something and it caused her to jump so hard she knocked over Tim and started crying. They were contemplating whether she was strong enough to do it or not and that cemented that she wasn’t.

Tim and Cass are nearly inseparable and are commonly referred to as the Wayne Twins. For Halloween they decided to go as each other.

[redrobin-detective]

give lilies with full hands

“Ghosts at the cemetery, why am I not surprised?” Valerie grumbled under her breath as she glanced at the glowing dots congregating near Heavenly Gates, Amity’s largest cemetery. It was just after 5pm on a Friday; Valerie should be at home getting ready for a fun and relaxing weekend. Instead, she was speeding forward in the dreary pre-rain mist about to tackle a hoard of the undead. Her life was so strange and unfair sometimes it just fueled her hatred for everything ghostly.

As she approached the cemetery, she slowed down and had her ectoweapon up and ready to shoot. Instead of a fire fight, she found an eerie, unsettling quiet that sunk deep into her bones and made her unable to move. She just hovered above the cemetery and took in the full scope of the scene. The Fentons were here, hard as they were to miss but like Valerie, they were also frozen with unease. Mrs. Fenton kept fiddling with her weapons but couldn’t manage to lift it in a meaningful way. 

The fog hung heavily around the cemetery, clinging like wet paint dripping down an unfinished picture. She could make out the unnatural glow of several ghosts, a few of which she recognized. That annoying child pirate ghost none of the adults could ever see was sobbing silently, curled up in a fetal position on the ground as if he were trying to make himself as small as possible. The biker guy and girl were cuddled into each other, leaned up against a grave looked scared and worn, flickering dangerously like static on TV. Val spotted Ember looking frightened and quaking looking like she wanted to run but was unable to. Her soft glow alerted Val that there was another ghost she’d initially missed.

The ghost was more shadow than anything, the fog moving through and from them. They were a swirl of greys and blacks in the approximation of a long cloak covering their face entirely. Pinpricks of bright lights shone from underneath the cloak’s hood. They bore down on Ember as if it were seeing deep into her soul and found her lacking. 

Phantom was there too, he looked almost normal compared to everything else going on so it’s not surprising she’d missed him at first. The fog dampened some of his ghostly glow and he was standing properly instead of floating. Like Val and the Fentons, he seemed unable to move. The heavy drizzle in the air flattened his normally gravity defying hair. If she hadn’t known better, she’d say he was a normal person standing there, albeit one with weird fashion sense who went a little crazy with the bleach. And if Phantom looked human in comparison then just what was this new ghost?

“Amber Jablonski,” The ghost whispered quietly within the cemetery but Valerie could hear perfectly well, as if were being spoken into her ear. From the shivers she saw come from the Fentons, they were experiencing the same thing. Ember moaned, something deep and agonizing. She fell to her knees as more of her glow faded. “An eager musician just making a name for herself in her small town. A performance at a barn had faulty wiring. The building caught fire and Young Amber was trapped by debris and unable to escape.”

The flame in Ember’s hair burst into brilliant blue flames before painfully sputtering out like a candle on the verge of going out. A wisp like ghostly hand reached out and tenderly ran a finger down the side of Ember’s face like a mockery of the tears she could no longer shed. “Cause of death was severe burns across her whole body and smoke suffocation at the age of 22.”

“Enough,” Phantom announced suddenly, stepping forward through the ghostly arm putting himself squarely between Ember and the wisp ghost. The dead rockstar barely noticed, her whole form trembling as she looked down at the cold earth with absolute horror. Val wondered if she was feeling the cold of the cemetery or the burning heat of an out of control fire. “You’re killing her.”

“She is already dead,” the ghost answered, “as are they all. They are but echoes of lives come and gone.”

“That doesn’t mean you have the right to remind them,” Phantom said, looking more ghostly again. His aura flared suddenly and his eyes lit up like angry lightning bugs in a jar. “Death is sacred, it’s private and you’re using it to hurt them.”

“It is my duty, I am the Mortem Obire. I make the restless dead confront their own mortality, remind them of what they lost.” The ghost stared down Phantom who flinched but overwise stood his ground. “It is because of you, Danny Phantom, that I have been summoned to this realm. Your life essence has made these ghosts forget what they were. They flock to you, drawn to your vibrancy, seeking what they’d lost. The dead were straying from their existence, emboldened by your example, they were forging new purposes. I am merely correcting their assumptions to preserve the delicate balance that maintains the two worlds.”

“But death shouldn’t have to define them, I mean us,” Phantom pleaded. “They can grow if they want, experience new things. The end of life isn’t the end.”

“How very human of you,” the other ghost said breathily, an unnatural imitation of a chuckle. “Your death, if we can call it that,” the ghost said, “was born out of innocence and ignorance. Nature demanded the experiment fail but your naivety allowed for the flow of life and death to be disrupted. You looked at a machine you could neither understand or control and made the attempt anyway. Your hubris consumed you in the form of electricity, pain firing through your whole body as you screamed for a relief that never came. Your old body was obliterated and remade into the abomination you are now.”

Oh god, Phantom was electrocuted. He had lived his last moments as a human screaming and in pain. She knew he was vaguely around her age but it was one thing to know a kid her age had gone through that and another to hear it described. Without thinking, she lowered her weapons. 

“Yeah I know that,” Phantom said weakly. “I took out the power in the whole city for a few hours which I felt bad about afterwards. What’s your point?” His glow was completely gone, the wet humidity of the air clinging to him much like how it fogged up Valerie’s suit. The shadow of the sinking sun made his white hair look dark and the greens of his eyes had faded into a less unnatural blue/green. 

The only think remotely otherworldly about him was a faint pulsing glow coming from the center of his chest. It beat like a heart, a soft brightness that seemed to dispel the overwhelming feeling of death. Ember looked up from the ground, the pirate kid uncurled himself a little, biker guy and his girlfriend became a little more solid. They looked at Phantom with such awe and envy and grief it was almost painful to watch them stare at what they clearly lacked. 

“My words hold no domain over your heart now, child of two worlds,” the ghost wheezed, floating past Phantom. “But someday you will greet death properly, be made humble by it, and I will be there to remind you of how fickle and fleeting that precious life of yours is.” 

“I-” Phantom defended, glowing slightly with his eyes once more an ectoplasmic green. But now it was obvious to see how much more lively and present he was compared to the others. She still hates him, will probably still hunt him but while she knew Phantom was a ghost she knew, whatever he was, she couldn’t call him dead. Not with eyes so sympathetic and expressive and alive.   

“Be gone, all of you mortals, this is a place for the dead,” the ghost commanded. The ghost hovered over to the Box Ghost who had been shivering behind a tombstone the whole time and suddenly went still as stone. “Your compassion for them does them no favors. This is the price for their existence, the dead cannot and should not forget. That is their purpose and this is mine. This is not an end to their existence, merely a reminder.”

Valerie never thoughts she’d see the Fentons flee from a fight but still she watched as Jack and Maddie slowly backed up until they reached their garish assault vehicle. They fumbled for the handles, not willing to tear their eyes off the ghosts before climbing in and driving off. Phantom looked torn, grief stricken as he watched the mist ghost, the Mortem Obire, speak softly to the Box Ghost. He looked like he wanted to interfere, to place himself in-between again but his shoulders slumped as he realized the futility of the action. This was the nature of death and memory and the living were not to interfere.

He glanced up at her, wary and saddened before disappearing from view, going off to wherever it was he lived his life when he wasn’t causing her problems. Valerie swiftly turned her board around and sped quickly in the direction of home. This had left her a lot of things to think about, about Phantom, about ghosts, about what it meant to stick around once your number was up. 

But that was for later, for now she wanted to get out of chill before the rain started in earnest. She wanted to drink something warm, sit close with her father and feel their hearts beating in time. Valerie Grey wanted nothing more, in that moment, to simply breathe in and appreciate her life before it was taken and those happy memories used against her. She would not die full of regret for what she had missed.

[ageofevermore]

Unsaid Emily

SUMMARY — and maybe it was the midnight ink on her wrist that tied her to him

WORD COUNT — 1.7k

───── ･ ｡ﾟ☆ﾟ: *. ☽ .* : ☆ﾟ. ─────

They had said goodbye to a child eight years before welcoming the second with shocked and scared hearts. They had promised to do things differently -- to like whatever she liked, watch whatever she watched, and love whatever she loved. They drew no boundary at personal belief when it came to this second child that shadowed the life of Luke, but they made no attempts to forgive and mend the empty spaces in their hearts where they had already done this. They had already gone through first steps, words, and heartbreaks. They had captured Luke’s seventeen years of life in their memory so perfectly watching hers felt faulty. They tried with everything they had to love her as they never loved Luke, but somehow that caused even more of a divide as everything was reminiscent of the deceased first born brunette. 

She had been away at school when his birthday rolled around; for the first time in her seventeen years of pitiful existence she didn’t blow out the candles on a stale chocolate cake. She spent the day away from stories of her brother, and instead  spent it knowing somewhere in the universe he wasn’t being smothered by Mitch and Emily’s persistent opinions. She couldn’t outrun home forever though. An amazing music program in Santa Monica pulled her away from LA for most weeks out of the year, but her mother was persistent that she abandon the dorms and visit home every so often. It was that fear of Luke again. He had instilled so many traumas that even trust with her was unruly and weak. 

She heard the doorbell ring as she was unpacking her pile of homework, the weekend away from school meaning nothing for the multiple classes she was taking weekly. Though the private boarding school was diverse in the makeup of their structured courses, she was still on a tightly wound schedule with instrumental practice and vocals along with mandatory academics like calculus. She hates calculus. She had only started around the corner because she heard the sound of her brother's name roll off of a stranger's tongue. The defined L sound was unmistakable, and partnered with the topic of music, the correlation was undeniable. 

“Yeah. That’s Luke, when he was two.” Mitch explained the picture between the girls grasp, eyes growing damp at the topic of his greatest failure as a parent. Luke was his perfect gift. 

“Do you have any other children?” The girl asked, gently setting the picture frame down and bringing her chocolate eyes up to Mitch’s. The gentleness of her expressions were weighing heavy on the hearts of a family that lived with the memory of Luke on their mind daily. Even with the retelling of his story the only fragment of his existence that she knew, hearing these words hurt.

“A daughter. Lily.” Mitch looked just behind the guest, eyes trailing over his daughter that shared the same midnight toned hair and hard blue eyes as his Luke once had. She stepped past the threshold connecting the foyer to the living room, ignoring the butterflies that spread through her stomach at a certain point across the hardwood. 

“I’m Lily.” She smiled tightly at the girl, hand extended in a polite greeting that was in no way authentic. Her heart was beating her ears, palms collecting sweat at the idea of knowing Luke from somebody else's perspective. 

“Julie.”  The two smiled at each other, both looking equally displaced despite this being Lily’s house, and having been Julie’s personal decision to come. Luke just had that effect on people. His memory made you hurt so deeply that anything other than crying felt wrong. 

“Did I hear the doorbell?” Emily asked, hand softly brushing against Lily’s back. Emily hadn’t even flinched when her child pulled away from the embrace, just accepted what had become routine since implementing the memory and the love of Luke. In remembering one child Mitch and Emily had completely pushed away the other. 

“Mom, this is Julie.” Lily introduced the two, her eyes wandering around the space that suddenly felt so full. She had stood in this same living room for seventeen years prior to the current evening and never had she got the sense of being complete. 

“Hello, Julie.” Emily smiled, looking over the girl standing in their living room with nothing more than a name to her purpose. “Oh, that’s a beautiful sweater.” 

She had never heard her mother speak so freely kindly towards others' clothing. She had woken the same morning, expecting the looks of judgement and unwarranted warnings that band-tees and vans had been the very wardrobe to have taken Luke’s life. 

When she had gotten Sunset Curve tattooed to the flesh of her wrist, binding her life to her brother's memory, they had gone mental. It had been tears of disappointment and pain at the foundation of an argument. They had come around eventually, but only off of the premise that they didn’t want to drive Lily away and watch her face death like Luke did. 

“Thanks. It’s my moms.” Julie looked down at her sweater, fingers softly brushing along the knitted material. By the solemn expression in her eyes, Lily knew that death had been upon her. Nobody bore such a heavy gleam without the persuading of trauma and grief. 

“Julie lives in the house where Luke and the band rehearsed. She was just telling me she found a song that Luke wrote.” Mitch looked down at Julie, all while Lily couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes on her. Looking around the room again, her heart jumped painfully in her chest at the orb of afterlife reflecting from the sun just behind Julie. As she stared into the rainbow colors of the orb, she couldn’t help but feel as though a set of eyes was sharing the encounter with her. 

Blinking away the delusion, Lily’s thumb traced the tattoo on her wrist, her eyes welling with tears. She might have rivaled a ghost all of her childhood, but she missed the soft and tender memories of her brother she didn’t have the heart to relearn. She could love him with everything she had, but never would see ask her parents about his short lived life. 

“It’s a song about a girl named Emily?” 

A tear fell from Lily’s eyes, while warm pools of grief framed the waterline of her blue optics, threatening to spill over at any second. She traced the spot where the orb of afterlife had once floated above the air with streaks of rainbow, but the sun had moved away and stopped casting a spotlight on the space. 

“Emily…” Mitch whispered into the open air of the space, eyes glazing over as he looked down to his wife that had beared two children and loved the first more than anything worldly. “I’m Emily.” She pleaded, although neither she nor Julie knew what she was asking for with her desperation soaked tone. 

“Then I think your son may have written a song for you.” Julie handed over the old and tattered piece of notebook paper that bore the same handwriting as all of Luke’s journals still stashed away in the attic. The same handwriting that lived permanently on her wrist, taking the shape of what his dream had once been. 

“First things first, we start the scene in reverse.” Lily had to shake the thought of music out of her focus, her body so heavily convinced that somewhere in the depths of her home a song was playing softly. The dimension of the vocals she heard was unlike any streaming platform ability, making her wonder if her mother had broken into the vinyls again. 

“All of the lines rehearsed disappeared from my mind when things got loud. One of us running out, I should've turned around, but I had too much pride. No time for goodbyes, didn't get to apologize, pieces of a clock that lies broken. If I could take us back, if I could just do that and write in every empty space the words ‘I love you’ in replace. Then maybe time would not erase me, if you could only know I never let you go, and the words I most regret are the ones I never meant to leave. Unsaid Emily. Silent days, mysteries and mistakes. Who'd be the first to break? I guess we're alike that way. He said, she said, conversations in my head, and that's just where they're gonna stay forever.” 

It was a ringing between her ears that brought the delusion to a standstill. As her fingers curl around her wrist as if to physically grab the midnight ink, the whisper of a voice in her focus becomes too prominent to ignore. 

“If I could take us back, if I could just do that, and write in every empty space the words ‘I love you’ in replace. Then maybe time would not erase me, if you could only know I never let you go, and the words I most regret are the ones I never meant to leave. Unsaid Emily. If I could take us back, if I could just do that, and write in every empty space the words ‘I love you’ in replace, then maybe time would not erase me. If you could only know I never let you go.” She hears the words through herself so clearly, she’s certain the words she can practically feel are the same as what’s written on the page between her mother's fingertips. She doesn’t understand it, but somehow she knows. 

It’s him. Luke. Her big brother. 

Her wrist flashes hot for a second, startling her enough to abandon the tight locked gaze she has on the empty space behind Julie and look down at her reddening skin. “And the words I most regret are the ones I never meant to leave. Unsaid Emily.” 

A cold shock ran through her body in contrast to the searing hot pain circulating her wrist. She sniffled when the last sung Emily sounded through her body, the vibrato sounding so close to her it was paralyzing. When she found her bearings and the jelly like feeling in her legs dispersed to her heart, she looked back up at Julie.  

With one last fleeting glance towards the empty space behind Julie, the sight of a blue-eyed boy looking tearfully beyond herself, calmed the burn in her wrist. She made eye contact with the boy, a name fitting comfortably on her tongue despite the impossibility of it all. 

“Luke…” 

[sarasapen]

White Roses and Scarlet Letters

Been awhile since I’ve posted or updated due to exams so I’m reposting the first four chapters because why not!

@jason-todd-squad @lucy-roo @rockyrocket15 @toleble @n1ghtsh4d3-67 @belovedbratwonder @aprilchagoyaaa @vespertxne @thatwaspossesion @attackonnat @roseangel013bf

Red Roses and Scarlet Letters

----- Like most people, your life had a routine. You’d wake up early and go for a jog or do some yoga, depending on the weather. Then you’d spend a half hour on your phone, before you glanced at the clock and scrambled to get ready on time. You normally met Dick for breakfast before making your way to work.

Generally, your nights and weekends were more entertaining. You spent your nights donning a domino mask and Kevlar, punching assholes and stopping crime. Saturdays were sleepover nights with Damian, and Sundays were girls’ days.

So, considering you were standing on a rooftop with dead bodies littered around you when you were supposed to be watching a movie, you were not happy.

“Robin, come to my coordinates.”

“Tt.”

You smile slightly, rolling your eyes before you turned your head, catching sight of a man with a red hood and a symbol on his chest. You eyed the symbol skeptically. “I didn’t know the Bats had a new associate.”

The man remained silent, staring you down. His fingers twitched, and you noticed the gun holsters on his thighs. Two guns. Five dead bodies. He had seven bullets left. Okay, so maybe Bruce didn’t have a new associate.

“You gonna threaten me, or shoot me?” You say nonchalantly, gripping your escrima sticks. He moves quickly, and you’re darting to the side before you fully internalise he’s pulling the trigger.

“Alright then,” you huff dryly. “Guess you’re shooting me.” He raises the gun again, and you backflip away from the next bullets, lunging in his direction. Five. Four. Three. The next bullet snags your cape- two- and you swing your leg and attempt to knock him back. He dodges the kick and intercepts your path, moving to flip you. You kick back off the wall, using that as leverage to swing your body around his. You slam your escrima stick into the back of his head the same time his fist comes into contact with your jaw. You slip from his body, and he used the opportunity to kick at your ribs, sending you stumbling. He lunges at you, causing you to slam against the wall. One of his hands is around your throat, cutting off your air supply, and the other is holding his loaded gun, pressed against your temple. You know you can easily break his arm from the position, but for some reason, you can’t seem to move. Even through his voice modulator, the man’s anger is clear when he speaks, the words he growls out making your blood run cold.

“You let Jason Todd die.”

Your eyes widen and you’re going to swing out but instead of shooting you, he drops the gun and slams you back into the wall, your head hitting the wall with a loud CRACK-

-and then all you see is black.

-----

The first thing you register is the pounding in your head.

You groggily try to sit up and wince at the bright lights. A hand on your shoulder pushes you back down- what? No, you need to get up, you need to-

“Lie down.” A voice commands and your body goes limp. The figure looks funny. He looks like a bat. And a man. Hey! Batman!

A whine emerges from your throat as your face scrunches up.

“I don’t wanna,” you protest weakly, trying to get up again. Your voice comes out scratchy, and your throat hurts when you talk. Suddenly there are two hands on both of your shoulders, keeping you on the bed.

“Do you want Alfred to scold?” The voice softens slightly. You shake your head, wincing when it hurts. Fingers dance along your hairline, soothing you.

“Rest. Once you’re better, the family’s going to have a chat.”

“Mkay,” you wrap your fingers around the wrist above your head, and you let sleep overtake you.

-----

When you wake up, you’re alone. Well, for approximately 0.3 seconds before Alfred enters through the door. He’s carrying some meds and soup. He stands over you, making sure you finish every last drop even though your throat hurts like a bitch.

You manage to convince him you’re fine, with Barbara's help, before you spend a good hour or so on trying to conceal the bruises on your neck.

Barbara drives you and the girls to Metropolis to pick up Kara before heading to Central City. Despite all the fun the others seem to be having, you can’t take your mind off the previous night, or off Jason. You had no idea who that man was, or how he knew you were connected to Jason.

The weight of Jason’s death had weighed down on you somewhat heavier than the rest of your family. Bruce became reckless, and almost killed multiple times. Dick went off the grid for 6 whole months, and when he returned, he acted like nothing had happened. No one knows what he did or where he went. Barbara stopped coming to the cave. She still went out on patrol, but didn’t talk to you. Alfred assumed you needed some space, so he gave you that.

As your family pulled away, you started falling into the dark abyss of depression. You resorted to self harm as a way of coping. After Alfred inquiring on your long-sleeves, you moved the cuts to your thighs. You fell so deep into the hole that one day, you grabbed some sleeping pills and swallowed about 20. Alfred noticed the bottle was empty, and he rushed to your bedroom in time.

That was around the time Tim popped up as Robin.

Despite trying to help you, your family never quite understood you. Perhaps Bruce did, better than the two of thought, but Bruce was rarely one to talk about his emotions. When Jason died, you felt like you were to blame. You were quite literally the Batgirl to his Robin. You always patrolled together, always hung around, plotting the next prank to pull on Dick. Considering the two of you were practically inseparable, you felt so damn guilty that Jason went to the warehouse himself. You should’ve gone with him. Maybe if you had gone with him, he would have still been alive.

The guilt had been gnawing at you for five years. There wasn’t a single damn day that you didn’t miss Jason. The day he died, you had furiously scribbled a letter that was about 5 pages long, listing all the reasons you hated him. You were angry, and you wanted to make sure he knew you were angry. The next day, you wrote a tear stained letter saying you loved him, and you were sorry for everything.

You then wrote him letters, one for every day that passed. This time, Day 1564, you reccounted the Red Hood guy occurrence, before telling him about this cute waiter that Dick said had been flirting with you at the cafe. You asked him, rhetorically, if you should go for it. You signed off as usual, saying you loved and missed him.

You slipped the letter into a red envelope, making your way to the garden of Wayne Manor. You couldn’t shake the feeling you were being watched, but then you remembered Bruce had tinkered with the security, so that was probably it.

You moved towards the rose bushes, and eased your way into the tiny opening in between the white rose bushes. You grabbed a long wooden box you had been stashing there, slipping the latest letter inside. You shut it, placing it back in the bush, before you straightened.

Shoving your hands into your jacket pockets, you made your way to the living room, where Bruce was trying to get everyone’s attention.

“I have some information pertaining to the Red Hood. We all need to talk.”

-----

And So the Sky Shall Weep

-----

“We all need to talk.” Bruce moves to the grandfather clock, adjusting the time on it. The door swings open, and he goes in, beckoning for you to follow. Bruce stops in front of the Batcomputer, his face hard.

“You may want to sit down,” Bruce gestures to you, Barbara and Dick. Barbara complies, and Dick leans against the table. You do the same, crossing your arms. What could possibly be so shocking that Bruce wants you to sit down?

Bruce turns on the computer screen, and you hear Dick swear beside you. Barbara buries her head in her hand, letting out a choked ‘Oh my god’. Tim and Damian stop poking each other and pause. You seem to be the only one that’s got their shit together, but by the way Bruce is looking at you, you feel yourself unravelling and quick.

Because on the screen, bold and bright as day, the dna samples of Jason Todd and the Red Hood were a 100% match. That could only mean one thing.

“He’s alive?” Dick croaks, eyes shining with unshed tears. Bruce gave Dick a brisk nod as he placed a hand on Barbara’s shoulder.

“This concerns me how?” Damian drawls, earning a well deserved shove from Tim. Damian of course, retaliates, but Bruce ignores them. His eyes are trained on you, obviously concerned at how you’ve just frozen up.

“He’s dead.” You say, voice too loud and too far away.

“He’s alive-“ Bruce starts gently, but you cut him off.

“No!” You don’t realise you’re shouting until your throat burns painfully. That doesn’t seem to deter you though.“He’s dead! I saw his body! He can’t- he’s dead.”

You don’t want to believe Bruce, don’t want to believe the test. “It’s faulty,” you say.

“I sent it to seven different labs, all of them came back with the same report,” Bruce soothes.  You’re trembling, and Bruce reaches out to touch you. You push him away, walking backwards.

“I- I need to think.”

You sprint out of the Batcave, pushing past Alfred and out the door, getting on your bike and driving past the gate faster than you thought was possible. There was a strange sort of numbness that overwhelmed you, and you knew it was only a matter of time before the dam that held your feelings back broke. And you’re pretty sure you didn’t want to be around others when that happened.

You were unlocking the door of your apartment without properly registering it, your body moving on its own to put on your suit and grab your escrima sticks. Next thing you know, you’re on the roof of your building. Your eyes scan the skyline of Gotham, and you inhale deeply, letting the cool night air surround you. In. Out. In. Out. In-The rumble of clouds overhead breaks your focus, and you suddenly find yourself running.

You don’t know what you’re running from - or towards - but you just kept running. You leaped over the gaps in the buildings, hopping over ledges and power lines. Tears begin to blur your vision, but you don’t stop running. You regret that decision as soon as you trip over a plank of wood, flying forward. Luckily, or unluckily, the building had a ledge, which meant that instead of falling down 20 stories, your stomach collided with the ledge.

Hot tears fell from your eyes, and you didn’t bother trying to hold them back. You gripped the edge of the ledge tightly, your chest heaving as you choked on a sob. Lightning cracked nearby, and rain followed a millisecond later.

Five years. Five goddamn years. You mourned him for five years, you felt all that pain, all that guilt, and he was alive? You knew you were screaming when you felt your throat burn.

Screaming didn’t alleviate the weight on your chest, so you lifted your fist and brought it down on the concrete. The pain was shooting up your arm, but that didn’t stop you from hitting the ledge again. You felt like a five-year-old throwing a tantrum, frustrated and angry and sad, and having no clue on how to handle the situation. You screamed again, shoving the ledge and hitting it as if it could solve the problem.

Black gloves hands encircled you, gripping your wrists tightly and preventing you from hitting out. You thrashed in the hold, kicking out uselessly.

“You’ll hurt yourself!” Bruce’s voice came through. He hadn’t switched on his voice modulator.

“I don’t care!” You punctuated each word with a shove, but you slumped into his chest, closing your eyes. You’re sobs died down as Bruce held you, and you let the rain lull you to sleep.

-----

Love is Slowly Losing Your Mind

-----

Tick.

You can’t see.

Tock.

You can’t move.

Tick.

You can’t breathe.

Tock.

You hear footsteps.

Tick.

“She’s finally awake!”

Tock

You know that voice.

Tick

“Decided to join the party eh?”

Tock

Its always that voice.

Tick.

A cloth is ripped away from your face.

Tock.

Red lips smile right in front of you.

Tick.

Fuck.

Tock.

“Let’s play.”

Tick.

Your eyes snap open. You can’t breathe, you can’t move.

It was just a dream. You force yourself to close your eyes, focusing on the whirring of the fan above you as you calm your breathing. Just a dream, you tell yourself.

You sit up, pulling your hair into a ponytail and heading over to the bathroom. You brush your teeth, wash your face, and look in the mirror.

He can’t hurt you anymore.

You dress and go to the cafe, arriving half an hour early. A waitress places some coffee in front of you and you thank her with a smile. You don’t drink the coffee though.

The sound of the chair scraping on the floor causes you to look up, and Dick smiles down at you. Except this time, his smile isn’t genuine, it doesn’t reach his eyes. He looks tired, and worn down, something that shocks you a little. Dick isn’t normally one to be anything less that happy.

He sits across you, swallowing, eyes darting anywhere but your face. When the waitress placed your usuals down, neither of you make a move to eat.

“So,” he starts, voice rough. He clears his throat, sighing heavily and running a hand across his face.

“So,” you agree, picking up your cup and lifting it to your mouth. You wrinkle your nose at the now cold beverage. You make eye contact with Dick and the unspoken question hangs in the air.

Now what?

He’s a mob boss, Dick’s raised eyebrow says.

He’s dangerous, your frown responds.

He almost killed you, Dick slumps further into his seat, eyes never leaving yours.

“He’s family,” you say, voice quiet. Dick closes his eyes for a moment. “Yeah. He is.”

You don’t say much else, and you part to go to your respective jobs. You reach your office, and there are no new cases or any overdue paperwork to deal with, which is a first. Your boss tells you to take the rest of the day off, so you do.

You walk around Gotham for hours, only going back home when the sun begins to set. You contemplate skipping patrol, but you know you need the exercise.

Suddenly you were 10 years old again, clinging onto Dick’s hand before your first patrol.

There’s nothing to be scared about, you rationalise. Absolutely nothing.

You were wrong.

You don’t make it very far, just two blocks away from your apartment, when you see the Red Hood.

-----

When Can I See You Again?

-----

You stumble onto the roof, fisting your cape on your side. He’s leaning against the edge of the building, his arms crossed. He seems to be watching you, or waiting for you, whichever it is, you’re not entirely sure.

He watches you for a moment, and you watch him, a voice in your head telling you that there’s no way in hell that’s Jason Todd.

Red Hood pushed himself off the wall, striding towards you and easily towering over you. Your heart is drumming in your ears, with him being so close to you that you can smell him, and the doubt begins to fade.

The scent is a deep, musky sort of aroma, whiffs of cigarette smoke and alcohol mixing in nicely. It’s strange, reminding you of dark and dingy corners of bars late at night, but at the same time it’s so incredibly him, so incredibly Jason, that you don’t have the heart to deny yourself a little hope anymore.

Especially not with that stupid leather jacket of his, making his arms look so good.

You swallow nervously, tilting your head up to look at him. If either of you move any closer, your chests would be brushing.

And then he moves. He takes a small step closer, one of his hands now on the small of your back and guiding you backwards, into the shadows, until your back touches a wall. You don’t know why your body lets him, why you’re not reacting to him dragging guiding you around.

He’s practically pressed against you, one of his legs between yours, the hand not on your back is resting on the wall on the side of his head. He’s so much taller than you, your head practically looking straight up to look at him.

You hear an intake of breath which could be him about to say something, but then your hands touch his mask gently. He flinches away, body tensing. His hand leaves your back and is suddenly gripping your neck, pressing you against the wall.

“You got some fuckin’ nerve,” he starts, voice gravelly. You don’t care, or seem to have heard him, really, your hands going straight back to his hood. “Take it off.”

“Given’ me orders, huh? Never would’ve thought  you-”

“Take the fucking thing off or get your hands off me!” You retort, tugging at his hand around your neck. Surprisingly, you don’t seem to mind it at all. Hood’s eyes narrow and he pulls back very slightly, his hands leaving you. You’re almost disappointed until he pulls his helmet off, dropping it onto the floor. Not a second passes before he’s closed in on you again, this time applying pressure on your neck.

You’re nearly gasping for air, but you don’t struggle or make any attempts to get out of his grasp. Instead, you look at him, memorising his features. His eyes have hardened, a new steel in them that wasn't there before, but somehow they’ve stayed exactly the same. You see his features soften just a little as you breathe out his name, and you watch as his pupils dilate. Jason - it’s so clearly Jason - smirks, his head dipping down to yours. You can feel his breath on your face, your eyes locked onto his.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he murmurs, his thumb stroking your jaw.

“I could destroy you,” he continued, voice soft and eerily soothing. “I could wreck you and ya wouldn’t stand a chance. Could snap this pretty little neck o’ yours.”

A normal person would be trembling, scared shitless in this situation. You… were not normal.

“What’s stopping you then?” You say, voice low and equally calm. You inhaled and god he smelled good.

“Nothin’ if you keep runnin’ that mouth.”

“I’m calling bullshit,” you say, smug under him, despite the fact that he has you pinned and his hand is tight around your throat. He cocks and eyebrow, waiting for you to continue. “If you wanted to kill me you would’ve done it that other night.”

“Maybe I’m regretting’ leaving you alive,” he shoots back. You shrug, leaning your head back as if you were extremely comfortable. (Which, for the record, you totally were.) Jason - Red Hood?- lets his forehead rest against your for a moment, your lips almost brushing. You could just… tilt your head up…

With a heavy sigh, he releases you, taking a few steps away from you. He picks up his helmet, back turning towards you, and you let out a shaky breath.

“Next time I’m gonna kill you,” he says, voice not in the least bit threatening.

A sudden urge to touch him again courses through you, and you lunge towards him. His reflexes are still sharp, and he spins around, anticipating an attack. Your body slams into his, and he barely shifts. He only seems to stiffen when you wrap your arms around him. You press your cheek to his chest, breath shaky as you listen to his steady heartbeat. You don’t realise you’re crying until his gloved hand strokes your cheek. His other arm wraps around your shoulders awkwardly, unsure of how to react. You sniffle, arms tightening around him. He seems to get the hint and tightens his grip on you, his touch full of warmth and comfort.

You pull away first, and he avoids your gaze.

“You still gonna try to kill me?” You say, trying to lighten the moment. Your voice comes out a lot weaker than you would’ve liked.

Red Hood straightens up to his full height, staring at you head on.

“You’ll have to wait and see.”

[theonetheycallhannah]

The Treatment of Captain Syverson- Chapter 7: Non-Productive Time

Pairing: Captain “Sy” Syverson x OFC (Shane Benton)

Summary: On a slow afternoon, Shane remembers a couple of fun evenings with Sy, and can’t help but start texting him…he turns out to be a bad influence.

Don’t want spoilers? Click me first to catch up!

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings:  Language, mature themes, a steamy scene that bumps up against the line of smut/not smut…it looks like smuttish is, in fact, a thing, (see what I did there? Toss a high five to your fic writer for the paraphrased Witcher quote in these here notes! lol! Sorry, i’m tired...and in a weird mood tonight...) so, anyway, using that. I love it. 

Author’s Note: This chapter was about half done before I even started SI1 and SI2! So that’s why it’s come along so quickly in the wake of them. It could also mean that there are some continuity issues…I found a couple during the re-write of the first part, and more when I was proofing, so it should be good, but…fair warning, one or more could have escaped me! Also, let me know if the text convo is hard to follow. I’ll try to reconfigure it to be more clear. It seemed to me like context was enough, and they’d had text convos before, and no one said anything…this one’s longer by about 300%, though, so…feedback and constructive criticism is always welcome and appreciated!

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

Tags: 

@onlyhenrys

@cavillryarchive

@summersong69

@titty-teetee

@bloodyinspiredfuck

@agniavateira

@oddsnendsfanfics

@omgkatinka

@thisismysecretthirstblog

@misslaland

@speakerforthedead0@tumblnewby

@suavechops

Hope I’m not forgetting anyone! If you want to be notified when I post a new chapter or work, I’ll be happy to add you to my tag list! Stricken blogs are getting personal messages from me when a new chapter is uploaded because Tumblr’s faulty tagging system will not stand in the way of me delivering what the people want!(?) lol! (Although…their lackadaisical notification system might…sorry for that. I have no control. lol!)

Time seemed to pass slowly when Shane wasn’t with Sy. When they weren’t having dinner together, or doing their typical date thing. She thought about their second date. One of the bars in town, chosen for its above average bar food but mostly, it’s pool tables. The warning he’d given her via text had made her laugh:

We’re goin’ to Cade’s for apps and pool, if that's okay. As gorgeous as you looked in that blue dress you wore last night, I recommend jeans and a T-shirt for tonight, okay?

She took his suggestion. A simple black tee, because she was a food klutz from hell, layered over a red camisole, and her favorite jeans. It showed off her dainty arrow necklace well.

While they played, they drank beer and talked about life, getting deeper into things than they could at therapy sessions.

“Dad split when I was about ten, I guess. Mom did her best with her only son, but she sent me to my grandpa’s a lot when she was working or just…needing her own time. He’d been an army man. Fought in Korea. His dad was in World War II. It felt like…I don’t know, this pull, like I was meant to join up.”

“Destiny?” She asked. A dreamy tone overtook him when he talked about his family and his now former career.

“I guess. Never though too much of all that before.”

They smiled at one another. Knowing.

“What was he like? Your grandpa?”

“Oh, Pap was the best. He was a mechanic in the service and so he could get anything hummin, ya know? We fixed up and built motors for all kinds a’ shit. My first car was a ‘67 Shelby Mustang with the fast back all because when I was about 14, he found most of one at a salvage yard and basically rescued it from the crusher. Got it for about nothin’. For two years we collected parts and did body work on that thing. And by the time I turned sixteen, it was the most beautiful, show-ready Kerry green machine you ever seen.”

“One of my favorite cars! I’d love to see pictures!”

“I’ve still got ‘er.” He grinned. “When Pap died, it got…hard for me to drive her, ya know? So…special occasions only now. And he left me his truck, which he’d just bought brand new while I was on my first tour. That F150 crew cab we came here in, with all the bells 'n whistles. I couldn’t let such a fine automobile go to waste.” He grinned.

“You’re such a gear head.” She chuckled.

“Hey, you may be glad about that when you need somebody to get your own motor humming.” He teased back at her, bending over the table to take his shot and sinking it deftly. He said they would only play for fun, but he was still winning this round…which she didn’t think was that fun.

“Okay, I deserved that.”

“The shot, or the innuendo?” He asked to clarify.

“Yes.” They laughed. He eventually did miss, making it her turn.

"Ya know, I'm disappointed in this date, Shane." He baited.

"How come?" she asked, a bit hurt.

"A guy only asks a girl to play pool with him so he can show her how to shoot…and you already know."

It was true. She'd played a lot growing up and even a bit as she got older. She and her siblings loved billiards. Her whole family, really. And although she was no professional, she wasn't half bad for an amateur.

"What do you mean?" she asked innocently, sizing up the table for her next shot, but knowing with a fair amount of certainty what he was implying.

"You know. I wanted to get all close to ya. Show ya how to grip that cue in your hand. How to stand, bent at the hip, where to eyeball your shot from." he smiled. "All that shit ya see in movies that makes the girl all nervous and excited that the guy's touchin' on her. Pressed up against her."

Shane grinned, picked up the small, blue cube of chalk and rolled the concave side over the tip of her cue…she had no need to do so, most people didn't, really…but she made herself look really sexy doing it and asked Sy, "Is that right? Well, I guess you'll have to find another way to get your cheap thrills, because this girl has been known to run a table." She bent over the green felt seductively, the angle at which she did so displaying her décolletage in his direction just enough to tantalize him into licking his lips. She took her shot at the 10 ball, but sunk the 8 instead, losing her the game…damn. She shouldn't have gotten cocky.

"Run it where, sunshine? Into the ground? Off a cliff?" he laughed as she stomped over and began to poke him mercilessly in the ribs.

"Come on, Minnesota Fats. Let's pay the tab and find something a little cozier to do."

"Oka--wait, did you just call me fat?" he was incredulous. She laughed.

"Oh my God, you thought YOU were gonna teach ME about billiards…Minnesota Fats is like the most famous pool player of ever. I am not calling you fat."

"You messin' with me?" he squinted.

"Sy, google it. I promise. I would never call you fat. You're… my sexy man bear."

"Technically a bear is a fat animal." he sulked.

"Why don't you tell that to one when it's chasing you down to make a meal of ya!" Shane laughed. "Come on. Remember? I think I mentioned something about… finding another way for you to get cheap thrills. Lets explore that, shall we?" she whispered into his ear. He dropped some bills on their table nearby to more than cover their food and beer, and they hauled ass into the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They had definitely been exploring. In the two weeks since they'd been given the green light to see each other outside of therapy--the day Sy basically handed Shane's boss her own ass--they'd spent most evenings with each other, unless Shane had a particularly late evening at work or an early day the next day. A few nights, they had been together so late, that just staying over seemed the most reasonable option. But they had both agreed to take things slowly with the physical stuff. It had been a long time since either of them had been in a relationship, and given their patient/therapist situation, waiting a while for the sex had seemed like a good idea…on paper. On the sofa had been a different story.

One day last week, she'd had to make an early night of things, and stood up from his couch, but was pulled back down to straddle his lap.

"Hold on a minute, sunshine. Why don't you gimme a proper goodbye before ya go, hmm?" he held her so close to him at every curve of their bodies, like the pieces of a puzzle snapping flush together. His kisses were deep and agonizing, his beard gently brushing her mouth, teasing her with its uncommon softness. She returned the ardor, squeezing him in every way she could.

She couldn't contain the desire pooling at her center, especially when he clearly couldn't contain his, either, straining against his shorts, pressing against her so deliciously, right where she needed him. She didn't hold back. And he was nothing if not encouraging to her endeavor.

"That feels so good, baby. You're so warm. Mmm." he whispered as he nipped at her ear and bit at her neck. She hadn't intended to, but she felt herself slipping over the edge, into pure euphoria and gripped at his hair, still rather short, though growing out from the mandated buzz. The length made him even more sensitive and when she ran her hands up his neck and over the back of his head, the result was like an electric current straight to his manhood. His body tensed as his release followed hers seconds later.

"Fuck." he said. "I'm sorry."

"What for?" she was truly confused.

"For losin' it like a teenager." he sighed and laid his head against the back of his couch in surrender…an unfamiliar sight, Shane was certain.

"Don't worry about it. I mean…it's not quite how I pictured our first time, but--"

"Oh, hell no. This doesn't count as a TIME, sunshine. This is batting practice. A warm up.”

"Ooh, you and your baseball references again. I told you, I need to leave, Sy. You can't get me worked up with that kinda dirty talk." she kissed his cheek, and stood. "Walk me out?"

He did. And they stood holding one another in the dark, leaned up against her Explorer, Sy's back against the door, Shane's cheek on his bare, hairy chest, and the turning of the earth all but forgotten.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She had to stop thinking about him. About their dates and the time they'd spent together. But her schedule had fallen apart for the day due to a nasty storm that had blown in, she had no more education to work on for now, and she could only clean and organize her treatment room and desk so thoroughly.

She guessed…the secretaries knew she was available if need be…and she was salaried…what was the harm in texting Sy? She'd stayed late and came in early and overworked herself in general so much for this clinic. She could justify a bit of downtime.

Hey! Whatcha doin?

Just did some exercises that my super hot PT gave me! *winky face emoji*

Uh-Oh, should I be jealous?

Mmm, hard to say, sunshine. I guess it'll depend on which one of you sleeps with me first. *devil emoji*

Smart money is on the one who’s already let you get to second base…and basically third, even though…does it count if it’s basically because of a dare. Induced by Jack Daniels?

I think it counts if you came…*smirk emoji*

Damn those skilled fingers and Tennessee whiskey.

What can I say. I told ya I knew how to get a motor humming. *cool guy emoji*

You certainly do. No doubt about that.

So how's your day goin', sunshine?

Eh, everyone's cancelled on me. I have no one until 4:00, and I have nothing to do until then. I've decided to see it as a blessing and text my favorite fella.

And when he didn't respond, you resorted to me? *smirk emoji*

Hey you know that you have no competition for my affection other than like, my dad…and Chris Evans. Lol

Your dad, I'm sure I couldn't compete with if I tried, from what you've told me. Chris…well, I'm a REAL captain, not some guy jumpin' around in tights.

Mmmm, shame. I bet you'd look good in a getup like that. *heart eyes emoji*

You think so?

Yup! *American flag emoji*

You wanna be my Black Widow?

I mean…I've already basically got a costume…*embarrassed monkey emoji*

*several lines of big eye emojis*

Yeah, a few Halloweens ago…I was Romanoff. Now you know. I'm a total nerd.

I'm a nerd, too, sunshine. Serious nerd.

How am I just finding out about this? There's next to no merch at your place, and you never wear typical nerd shirts…*skeptical face emoji*

You haven't seen my whole place…*wink emoji*

What, are you telling me you have Batman bedsheets? *lol emoji*

Oh, it's much…much worse than that. The bedroom is pretty neutral, but…I have a…kind of rec room in the basement that is basically nerd central.

Oh. Em. Gee. I can't WAIT to see that, Sy!!! And how dare you hold out on me!!!

Well, I mean, I didn't wanna lay out all my cards right off the bat. I'm playing the long game.

Ah, so, when do I get to see this nerd trap?

Come on over, sunshine. *smiley face*

I said, I've got a patient at 4:00.

Everyone's cancelled on you. Can't you cancel on them for once?

Not unless I'm violently ill do I ever have any patients cancelled on my behalf.

So…say you're violently ill and come see me. *shrugging man emoji*

I dunno, Sy…

I got stuff to make that soup you like…

She had made it clear to him how much she loved soup, especially a good creamy potato soup, and on one of their dates, he'd had her over and there was a big pot of the stuff on his stove, made from scratch. She'd never had better, and he almost got lucky that night…and I mean…he still got a little lucky. He cooked for her AND cleaned up, AND let her pick the movie that night. She still picked an action movie, because she wasn't really a romance movie type, overall. Even so. Could she leave him hanging?

She opened her thread with Heather in her messenger app on her laptop.

Heather, is there anyone who could take my last patient, Mr. Lopez?

Looks like Cheri has a cancel around that time. Need me to move him?

If you could. I'm not feeling well.

Are you pregnant?

Omg, every fucking time. Why when anything is amiss in a woman's life must it be pregnancy?! And why is it okay to ask that question?! Ugh! She loved Heather like a sister, and it probably was just a joke, but uuuuuugh!

Yes…yes I am. *eye roll emoji* I've got a killer headache that's making me queasy. I'll email Susan. Thanks.

You bet. Tell Sy I said hi. *wink emoji*

Shut up.

After a quick and concise email to her boss, she picked her phone back up. One unread message.

You there, sunshine?

She simply replied,

Get that soup ready, Captain, I'm on my way.

Up Next: Chapter Eight: Heat/Ice

[cutegirlmayra]

My first GoChi prompt~

Dragon ball AU - Chichi x Goku

Prompt:

Besides just being a delinquent example to our sons sometimes... I feel Goku really does say some of the most kindest things.

Well, you wouldn’t believe me unless I gave you an example, right? Haha! Guessed right!

It all started on a sunny day when Goku and I went on a drive~

Chichi’s lips are flapping at the wind pressure blasting her back against the passenger’s seat as Goku wildly drives in odd zig-zags that look dangerously close to causing a serious accident.

“Goku! Other way! No, that way!” - “Which way was the lake, Chichi? All this turning is making me dizzy! Haha!” - “You blockhead, watch out for the trees!”

Goku smiled and closed his eyes, exercising his arm in a happy-go-lucky expression as he rotated it to the side of him. “No worries, Chichi! I’ll just knock it out of the way if it comes too close.”

“You’re the one coming close and we will not be punching our neighbors trees!” She gripped the sides of the car, wondering why on earth she spent the last of their savings on getting a car that could retract it’s top down.

In all honesty, she thought that with her boys getting so big, and with Goku consistently wrecking things... she just wanted something less expensive so if he broke it, she wouldn’t worry too much about the cost of fixing it.

“Oh, oh!” she had slacken back down in her seat with a sigh at her poor, grandmother nerves now before excitedly standing up in the car and removing her seatbelt, pointing cheerily to the lakeside. “That’s it! That’s where they saw the giant fish!”

“Ohh, really?” Goku leaned his head to see over her better. “Wow..! I can’t believe our fights created such big craters! And after all so long, they’ve turned into giant lakesides!”

Chichi beamed a grin to him, but kept back her shaky comment with a bead of sweat dripping down her face. “Heh...heheh... yeah... world-destructive battles are just great on a planet that can survive practically extinction.” she muttered to herself, but still leaned her head out as Goku pulled over but braked too hard and she went flying out.

“Ah! Chichi!” He flew out of the car, basically teleporting, and caught a leg as her face still planted against the ground. “Are you okay..?” He pulled her up as she looked a bit exhausted by the endeavor of ever having a ‘nice quiet drive’ with her family.

“I’m fine~” she groaned out, but Goku politely hoisted her up on his shoulder, steadying her there. “Sorry, Chichi. I guess even though I don’t crash anymore, I still gotta work on my aim. Adjusting my power is getting a bit tougher recently with all the special training I’ve been doing. It makes it harder to see and spend time with you too.” He tilted his head with yet another kind smile.

Chichi looked down, some dirt still on her face, but smiling at his sincerity with love.

Don’t think that’s the best he can do, now! My Goku has gotten a lot more sweeter over the years too~ I remember when he first came back from being dead, it was late in the night and I was worried about so many things… Goku didn’t hesitate to give me a sign of his affections though… although I would have rather flowers but giant snapping dragons with ribbons on them were a decent second to say the least!

Well, my memory can be faulty at times. But there’s been many times I’ve felt like the strongest man in the world’s wife! Let’s continue with some of his more, charminger, moments~

Goku set Chichi down as she started setting up a picnic, looking over at him as she spread out the blanket and wondering what he was thinking about, seeing him grip his belt and look out over the water with a serious expression all of a sudden…

He wasn’t one to really contemplate that hard, at least, unless something was seriously wrong. Pricking at her heart strings, she wondered if there was something he wasn’t telling her again… Maybe another giant battle was coming… or maybe he was just hungry?

“If you stare at the lake too long, you’ll never find those fish.” Chichi teased, sitting elegantly on her knees and with her hands in her lap. “Hehe~ You can’t watch a clock either, we’ll bring plenty back for the family dinner! Ah~ It’s been so long since I’ve cooked for everyone! I’m thrilled that unnaturally alien fish have been growing here so we can clean the environment but also have a lovely meal with the family!” She wasn’t expecting that turnout, but if it meant more time to be a ‘normal’ family, she was willing to prepare at whatever cost to make it happen!

Goku just lowered his head, still thinking…

‘Now that is strange,’ Chichi pouted her lips and blinked a few times in confusion, ‘Normally, I can read him pretty well.’ she tilted her head, “Goku? Is something wrong?”

“Emm… Nothing’s wrong, Chichi, just thinking.” Goku looked back at her and gave her yet another open-mouthed, goofy grin. He put his hand behind his head, laughing, “Just thinking about the lake and the sky, is all!”

“Oh? That sounds rather admiring of you.” She wasn’t quite aware that he took time to enjoy the nature and scenery around him. “What’s so special about it? Doesn’t it look just like any lake and sky?”

“...Well… It probably will sound stupid.” He raised his head up, and she knew this was going to be riot. Whatever it was, she giggled sweetly and nodded to him.

“Alright, you big lug, tell me what’s so stupid.” She encouraged, with her own flavor of sweetness. She eyed him tenderly as he looked back at her, and looking into each one of her eyes, lowered his raised hand and itched his nose, as though playing demure.

“Ah, it’s nothing. Really, Chichi.”

“Oh, don’t start that!” Chichi patted the ground by the blanket. “I don’t care what anyone says, you’re not a fool who can’t have his own opinions and thoughts! Even if you aren’t very well educated, you still know the most important lesson in life!”

Her ‘matter-of-factly’ spoken words intrigued him, as he came to hover over to her and then plopped down quite swiftly. His action made wind whirl up and she had to adjust her hair and keep herself seated--”Oh!” she caught herself from being gusted away, but continued to smile like a doting wife.

“But, Chichi… you call me dumb sometimes.” He mentioned innocently.

“I call you a dumb sweetheart.” She stuck her nose up in the air, as though defiant.

“H-how’s that any different?” He looked nervous saying that, but she pinched his cheek and watched him flail a bit in her grasp. “A-ah-wah! Chichi, that hurts!”

“Because I’m your wife, that’s why!” she released her cruel hold on him and then scooted closer to him, cuddling up and leaning on his large, muscled chest. “Now then~” She went back to being her own personal brand of affectionate. “What’s so great about the sky and sea that it takes your attention away from your adorable wife?” she cooed.

“Uhh… the fact that it reminds me of you, I guess.” He relaxed and leaned back, letting her lean on him and holding them both up with his arms keeping them from both falling back. “The sea reflects the sky… or does the sky reflect the blue of the sea?” he wondered, “The lake is so small, kinda like an eyeball.” He then looked down at Chichi, seeing her intently listening to him, her eyes looking up to him. “If I’m the sky, then I can see my reflection in your eyes, Chichi.” He commented, but then looked away as her eyes began to twinkle as though he had swept her off her feet. “But then… doesn’t that mean I reflect you in me? The sky has clouds, which are parts of the sea. Does that mean… even though I don’t know if you can see me in you, that there’s still a piece of you that’s always with me?”

“Oh, Goku!!!~” Chichi charged into him in a tight embrace, almost pushing him back if it weren’t for how his arm was like a steel beam, and wouldn’t knock him over no matter how hard she tried.

“W-woah, Chichi! Are you mad?” he kept one hand extended out and away from her, mostly due to surprise and confusion.

“No, you silly idiot!” she had tears in her eyes, “I just love you so much, you goof!” she tried to hold back her tears but he just blinked down at her.

Then, a smile slowly swept over his face and he sat up, sitting indian-style and embracing her tenderly back, careful to not hold her too tightly.

“I love you too, Chichi.”

And now, you’re all jealous of how good My Goku is!~<3 Well, admit it! He’s the best husband in the world! We did end up catching some giant and ugly alien invading fish, but they and their eggs sure did taste good at our family dinner~

Goku once told me he had thought back to the first day we met… okay, fine, I gave him a friendly knock on the head for him to think harder about that time, and he finally told me how he really was glad he met someone like me. I asked if he had met any other girl he may have married if she had been more adamant about it like I was… I was,... ehem, going through a bit of a phase--but Goku has always held me close, and said the same thing.

“No matter what, I love you, Chichi.”

Now here’s your tissues, cause that’s what love is, people!!! And none of you are ever taking my Goku, or our beautiful family, away from me~

Goku and his family pose for a group picture, and right before the flash and while Goku was leaning down over Chichi’s shoulder to throw up a ‘peace sign’ and grin widely, Chichi jumped up and kissed his cheek.

His face was priceless, a look of innocent surprise, which she framed in her kitchen. Now, whenever she cooks, she opens the window and looks out over the sky… she always gets sad if there aren’t any clouds… but remembers how Goku sees the world… that in her eyes, he’ll always be there, smiling back and saying, “I love you, Chichi.”

[mostlysignssomeportents]

UEFI hacking malware

Security researchers are alarmed: the already-notorious Trickbot malware has been spottied probing infected computers to find out which version of UEFI they're running. This is read as evidence that Trickbot has figured out how to pull off a really scary feat.

To understand why, you have to understand UEFI: a fascinating, deep, philosophical change to our view of computers, trust, and the knowability of the universe. It's a tale of hard choices, paternalism, and the race to secure the digital realm as it merges with the physical.

Computers were once standalone: a central processing unit that might be augmented by some co-processors for specialized processes, like a graphics card or even a math co-processor.

These co-pros were subordinate to the CPU though. You'd turn on the computer and it would read a very small set of hardcoded instructions telling it how to access a floppy disk or other storage medium for the rest of the boot sequence, the stuff needed to boot the system.

The hardwired instructions were in a ROM that had one job: wake up and feed some instructions to the "computer" telling it what to do, then go back to sleep. But there's a philosophical conundrum here.

Because the world of computing is adversarial and networked computing is doubly so: there are people who want your computer to do things that are antithetical to your interests, like steal your data or spy on you or encrypt all your files and demand ransom.

To stop this, you need to be able to examine the programs running on your computer and terminate the malicious ones. And therein lies the rub: when you instruct your computer to examine its own workings, how do you know if you can trust it?

In 1983, Ken Thompson (co-creator of C, Unix, etc) was awarded a Turing Award ("computer science's Nobel Prize"). He gave a fucking bombshell of an acceptance speech, called "Reflections on Trusting Trust."

https://www.cs.cmu.edu/~rdriley/487/papers/Thompson_1984_ReflectionsonTrustingTrust.pdf

Thompson revealed that he had created a backdoor for himself that didn't just live in Unix, but in the C compiler that people made to create new Unix systems.

Here's what that means: when you write a program, you produce "high-level code" with instructions like "printf("Hello, World!");". Once your program is done, you turn it into machine code, a series of much shorter instructions that your CPU understands ("mov  dx, msg" etc).

Most programmers can't read this machine code, and even for those who can, it's a hard slog. In general, we write our code, compile it and run it, but we don't examine it. With nontrivial programs, looking at the machine code is very, very hard.

Compilers are treated as intrinsically trustworthy. Give 'em some source, they spit out a binary, you run the binary. Sometimes there are compiler bugs, sure, and compiler improvements can be a big deal. But compilers are infrastructure: inscrutable and forgotten.

Here's what Thompson did: he hid a program in his compiler that would check to see whether you were compiling an operating system or a compiler. If you were compiling an OS, it hid a secret login for him inside of it.

If you were compiling a compiler, it hid the program that looked for compilers or operating systems inside of it.

Think about what this means: every OS you compiled had an intentional security defect that the OS itself couldn't detect.

If you suspected that your compiler was up to no good and wrote your own compiler, it would be compromised as soon as you compiled it. What Thompson did was ask us to contemplate what we meant when we "trusted" something.

It was a move straight out of Rene Descartes, the reasoning that leads up to "I think therefore I am." Descartes' "Discourse on the Method" asks how we can know things about the universe.

He points out that sometimes he thinks he senses something but is wrong - he dreams, he hallucinates, he misapprehends.

If all our reasoning depends on the impressions we get from our senses, and if our senses are sometimes faulty, how can we reason at all?

Descartes wants a point of certainty, one thing he *knows* to be absolutely true. He makes the case that if you can be certain of one thing, you can anchor everything else to this point and build up a massive edifice of trustable knowledge that all hangs off of this anchor.

Thompson is basically saying, "You thought you had descartesed your way into a trustable computing universe because of the axiom that I would never poison your lowest-level, most fundamental tools.

"*Wrong*.

"Bwahahahaha."

(But, you know, in a nice way: an object lesson to serve as a wake-up call before computers fully merged with the physical world to form a global, species-wide digital nervous system whose untrustworthy low-level parts were foolishly, implicitly trusted).

But processors were expensive and computers were exploding. PCs running consumer operating systems like Windows and Mac OS (and more exotic ones like GNU/Linux and various Unices) proliferated, and they all shared this flawed security model.

They all relied on the operating system to be a faithful reporter of the computer's internals, and operated on the assumption that they could use programs supervised by the OS to detect and terminate malicious programs.

But starting in 1999, Ken Thompson's revenge was visited upon the computing world. Greg Hoglund released Ntrootkit, a proof-of-concept malware that attacked Windows itself, so that the operating system would lie to antivirus programs about what it was doing and seeing.

In Decartesspeak, your computer could no longer trust its senses, so it could no longer reason. The nub of trust, the piton driven into the mountainface, was made insecure and the whole thing collapsed. Security researchers at big companies like Microsoft took this to heart.

In 2002, Peter Biddle and his team from Microsoft came to EFF to show us a new model for computing: "Trusted Computing" (codenamed "Palladium").

https://web.archive.org/web/20020805211111/https://www.microsoft.com/presspass/features/2002/jul02/0724palladiumwp.asp

Palladium proposed to give computers back their nub of Descartesian certainty. It would use a co-processor, but unlike a graphics card or a math co-pro, it would run before the CPU woke up and did its thing.

And unlike a ROM, it wouldn't just load up the boot sequence and go back to sleep.

This chip - today called a "Secure Enclave" or a "Trusted Platform Module" (etc) - would have real computing power, and it would remain available to the CPU at all times.

Inside the chip was a bunch of cool cryptographic stuff that provided the nub of certainty. At the start of the boot, the TPM would pull the first stages of the boot-code off of the drive, along with a cryptographic signature.

A quick crypto aside:

Crypto is code that mixes a key (a secret known to the user) with text to produce a scrambled text (a "ciphertext") that can only be descrambled by the key.

Dual-key crypto has two keys. What one scrambles, the other descrambles (and vice-versa).

With dual-key crypto, you keep one key secret (the "private key") and you publish the other one (the "public key"). If you scramble something with a private key, then anyone can descramble it with your public key and know it came from you.

If you scramble it *twice*, first with your private key and then with your friend's public key, then they can tell it came from you (because only your private key's ciphertexts can be descrambled with your public key).

And *you* can be certain that only they can read it (because only their private key can descramble messages that were scrambled with their public key).

Code-signing uses dual-key crypto to validate who published some code.

Microsoft can make a shorter version of its code (like a fingerprint) and then you scramble it with its private key. The OS that came with your computer has a copy of MSFT's public key. When you get an OS update, you can descramble the fingerprint with that built-in key.

If it matches the update, then you know that Microsoft signed it and it hasn't been tampered with on its way to you. If you trust Microsoft, you can run the update.

But...What if a virus replaces Microsoft's public keys with its own?

That's where Palladium's TPM comes in. It's got the keys hardcoded into it. Programs running on the CPU can only ask the TPM to do very limited things like ask it to sign some text, or to check the signature on some text.

It's a kind of god-chip, running below the most privileged level of user-accessible operations. By design, you - the owner of the computer - can demand things of it that it is technically capable of doing, and it can refuse you, and you can't override it.

That way, programs running even in the most privileged mode can't compromise it.

Back to our boot sequence: the TPM fetches some startup code from the disk along with a signature, and checks to see whether the OS has been signed by its manufacturer.

If not, it halts and shows you a scary error message. Game over, Ken Thompson!

It is a very cool idea, but it's also very scary, because the chip doesn't take orders from Descartes' omnibenevolent God.

It takes orders from Microsoft, a rapacious monopolist with a history of complicity with human rights abuses. Right from that very first meeting the brilliant EFF technologist Seth Schoen spotted this (and made the Descartes comparison):

https://web.archive.org/web/20021004125515/http://vitanuova.loyalty.org/2002-07-05.html

Seth identified a way of having your cake and eating it too: he proposed a hypothetical thing called an "owner override" - a physical switch that, when depressed, could be used to change which public keys lived in the chip.

This would allow owners of computers to decide who they trusted and would defend them against malware. But what it *wouldn't* do is defend tech companies shareholders against the owner of the computer - it wouldn't facilitate DRM.

"Owner override" is a litmus test: are you Descartes' God, or Thompson's Satan?

Do you want computers to allow their owners to know the truth? Or do you want computers to bluepill their owners, lock them in a matrix where you get to decide what is true?

A month later, I published a multi-award-winning sf story called "0wnz0red" in Salon that tried to dramatize the stakes here.

https://www.salon.com/2002/08/28/0wnz0red/

Despite Seth's technical clarity and my attempts at dramatization, owner override did not get incorporated into trusted computing architectures.

Trusted computing took years to become commonplace in PCs. In the interim, rootkits proliferated. Three years after the Palladium paper, Sony-BMG deliberately turned 6m audio CDs into rootkit vectors that would silently alter your OS when you played them from a CD drive.

The Sony rootkit broke your OS so that any filename starting with $SYS$ didn't show up in file listings, $SYS$ programs wouldn't show up in the process monitor. Accompanying the rootkit was a startup program (starting with $SYS$) that broke CD ripping.

Sony infected hundreds of thousands of US gov and mil networks. Malware authors - naturally enough - added $SYS$ to the files corresponding with their viruses, so that antivirus software (which depends on the OS for information about files and processes) couldn't detect it.

It was an incredibly reckless, depraved act, and it wasn't the last. Criminals, spies and corporations continued to produce rootkits to attack their adversaries (victims, rival states, customers) and trusted computing came to the rescue.

Today, trusted computing is widely used by the world's largest tech companies to force customers to use their app stores, their OSes, their printer ink, their spare parts. It's in medical implants, cars, tractors and kitchen appliances.

None of this stuff has an owner override. In 2012, I gave a talk to Google, Defcon and the Long Now Foundation about the crisis of owner override, called "The Coming Civil War Over General Purpose Computing."

https://memex.craphound.com/2012/08/23/the-coming-civil-war-over-general-purpose-computing/

It proposed a way that owner override, combined with trusted computing, could allow users to resist both state and corporate power, and it warned that a lack of technological self-determination opened the door to a parade of horribles.

Because once you have a system that is designed to override owners - and not the other way around - then anyone who commands that system can, by design, do things that the user can't discern or prevent.

This is the *real* trolley problem when it comes to autonomous vehicles: not "who should a car sacrifice in a dangerous situation?" but rather, "what happens when a car that is designed to sometimes kill its owner is compromised by Bad Guys?"

https://this.deakin.edu.au/self-improvement/car-wars

The thing is, trusted computing with an owner override is pretty magical. Take the Introspection Engine, a co-processor in a fancy Iphone case designed by Edward Snowden and Bunnie Huang. It's designed to catch otherwise undetectable mobile malware.

https://www.tjoe.org/pub/direct-radio-introspection/release/2

You see, your phone doesn't just run Ios or Android; the part that interfaces with the phone system - be baseband radio - runs an ancient, horribly insecure OS, and if it is infected, it can trick your phone's senses, so that it can no longer reason.

The Introspection Engine is a small circuit board that sandwiches between your phone's mainboard and its case, making electrical contact with all the systems that carry network traffic.

This daughterboard has a ribbon cable that snakes out of the SIM slot and into a slightly chunky phone case that has a little open source hardward chip with fully auditable code and an OLED display.

This second computer monitors the electrical signals traveling on the phone's network buses and tells you what's going on. This is a user-accessible god-chip, a way for you to know whether your phone is hallucinating when it tells you that it isn't leaking your data.

That's why it's called an "Introspection Engine." It lets your phone perch at an objective remove and understand how it is thinking.

(If all this sounds familiar, it's because it plays a major role in ATTACK SURFACE, the third Little Brother book)

https://attacksurface.com

The reason the Introspection Engine is so exciting is that it is exceptional. The standard model for trusted computing is that it treats everyone *except* the manufacturer as its adversary - including you, the owner of the device.

This opens up many different sets of risks, all of which have been obvious since 1999's Ntrootkit, and undeniable since 2005's Sony Rootkit.

I. The manufacturer might not have your interests at heart.

In 2016, HP shipped a fake security update to its printers, tricking users into installing a system that rejected their third-party ink, forcing them to pay monopoly prices for HP products.

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2020/11/ink-stained-wretches-battle-soul-digital-freedom-taking-place-inside-your-printer

II. An insider at the company may not have your interests at heart.

Multiple "insider threat" attacks have been executed against users. Employees at AT&T, T-Mobile, even Roblox have accepted bribes to attack users on behalf of criminals.

https://www.vice.com/en/article/qj4ddw/hacker-bribed-roblox-insider-accessed-user-data-reset-passwords

III. A government may order the company to attack its users.

In 2017 Apple removed all working VPNs from its Chinese app stores, as part of the Chinese state's mass surveillance program (1m members of religious minorities were subsequently sent to concentration camps).

Apple's trusted computing prevents users from loading apps that aren't in its app stores, meaning that Apple's decisions about which apps you can run on your Iphone are binding on you, even if you disagree.

https://www.reuters.com/article/us-china-apple-vpn/apple-says-it-is-removing-vpn-services-from-china-app-store-idUSKBN1AE0BQ

IV. Third parties may exploit a defect in the trusted computing system and attack users in undetectable ways that users can't prevent.

By design, TPMs can't be field updated, so if there's a defect in them, it can't be patched.

Checkm8 exploits a defect in eight generations Apple's mobile TPM. It's a proof-of-concept released to demonstrate a vulnerability, not malware (thankfully).

https://checkm8.info/

But there have been scattered, frightening instances of malware that attacks the TPM - that suborns the mind of God so that your computer ceases to be able to reason. To date, these have all been associated with state actors who used them surgicially.

State actors know that the efficacy of their cyberweapons is tied to secrecy: once a rival government knows that a system is vulnerable, they'll fix it or stop using it or put it behind a firewall, so these tools are typically used parsimoniously.

But criminals are a different matter (and now, at long last, we're coming back to Trickbot and UEFI) (thanks for hanging in there).

UEFI ("You-Eff-Ee") is a trusted computing that computer manufacturers use to prevent unauthorized OSes from running on the PCs they sell you.

Mostly, they use this to prevent malicious OSes from running on the hardware they manufacture, but there have been scattered instances of it being used for monopolistic purposes: to prevent you from replacing their OS with another one (usually a flavor of GNU/Linux).

UEFI is god-mode for your computer, and a compromise to it would be a Sony Rootkit event, but 15 years later, in a world where systems are more widespread and used for more critical applications from driving power-plants to handling multimillion-dollar transactions.

Trickbot is very sophisticated malware generally believed to be run by criminals, not a government. Like a lot of modern malware, there's a mechanism for updating it in the field with new capabilities - both attacks and defenses.

And Trickbot has been observed in the wild probing infected systems' UEFI. This leads security researchers to believe that Trickbot's authors have figured out how to compromise UEFI on some systems.

https://www.wired.com/story/trickbot-botnet-uefi-firmware/

Now, no one has actually observed UEFI being compromised, nor has anyone captured any UEFI-compromising Trickbot code. The thinking goes that Trickbot only downloads the UEFI code when it finds a vulnerable system.

Running in UEFI would make Trickbot largely undetectable and undeletable. Even wiping and restoring the OS wouldn't do it. Remember, TPMs are designed to be unpatchable and tamper-resistant. The physical hardware is designed to break forever if you try to swap it out.

If this is indeed what's going on, it's the first instance in which a trusted computing module was used to attack users by criminals (not governments or the manufacturer and its insiders). And Trickbot's owners are really bad people.

They've hired out to the North Korean state to steal from multinationals; they've installed ransomware in big companies, and while their footprint has waned, they once controlled 1,000,000 infected systems.

You can check your UEFI to see if it's vulnerable to tampering:

https://eclypsium.com/2019/10/23/protecting-system-firmware-storage/

and also determine whether it has been compromised:

https://eclypsium.com/2020/10/14/protecting-your-organizations-from-mosaicregressor-and-other-uefi-implants/

But this isn't the end, it's just getting started. As Seth Schoen warned us in 2002, the paternalistic mode of computing has a huge, Ken Thompson-shaped hole in it: it requires you trust the benevolence of a manufacturer, and, crucially, they know you don't have a choice.

If companies knew that you *could* alter whom you trusted, they would have to work to earn and keep your trust. If governments knew that ordering a company to compromise on TPMs, they'd understand that their targets would simply shift tactics if they made that order.

Some users would make foolish decisions about whom to trust, but they would also have recourse when a trusted system was revealed to be defective. This is a fight that's into its third decade, and the stakes have never been higher.

Sadly, we are no closer to owner override than we were in 2002.

[strxngdrxm]

ʜᴀʟʟ, ᴅ.

               even though they say that time heals all wounds,                the scars are still fucking there. i can't forget what happened.                i can't forget how I felt

《  oliver stark. male, he/him. new kings by sleeping wolf   》 oh my, there goes DAVID JAMES “DEACON” HALL. the 29/29 year old INCUBI is currently working at SALEM FIRE STATION as a FIREFIGHTER. they’ve been in salem, ma for SIX MONTHS. they are known around town as THE WAR HERO. i have a feeling they AREN’T aware of what’s going on in town, and they are NEUTRAL. hopefully, because they are known to be CHARMING and ADAPTABLE while also being IMPULSIVE and CYNICAL, they will survive. i guess only time will tell. ( ray. she/her. 26. pst. )

a e s t h e t i c s  :     swimming in rage, cracking at tenderness.  growl heard before the whimper of pain. the protective one. bruised fists. the smell in the air after rainfall. always know what you’re fighting for. observant eyes. loud mind, silent words. memories so loud. hands covered in ink. bright smiles, distracted eyes. rinsing oil off hands after tossing a wrench back in the toolbox. the rumble of a bike being heard from down the street. pages coved in ink, drawing memories. kind smiles and broken eyes.

q u o t e s :     “  if you want to know what a man’s like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals.   ”   –   sirius black, harry potter and the goblet of fire “   don’t give me the ‘hurt feelings’ thing because a. i don’t buy it, and b. i don’t care.   ”   –   steve mcgarrett, hawaii five-o “   ‘go bravely, go deeply – or do not go’ bullshit, go, even if you are shaking with fear, go. take a blind step forward. that first step is worth so much more than standing still and never getting anywhere because you weren’t brave.   ”   –   unknown

p e r s o n a l i t y :     + realistic, observant, and self-reliant                                            - possessive, stubborn, and temperamental

david better known as deacon, has always been a man of action. when he was younger, he had energy that was off the charts at times and that later turned into him just always needing to keep busy. which doesn’t always leave room for him to deal with his emotions. he just keeps so busy that he buries all his problems under everything. it’s what has left him so  B R O K E N  not that anyone is aware of just how much so. over the years, he’s gotten really good at hiding it.

people could describe him as charming and flirty, caring and protective, and smart and adaptable. while all these things are true about the hybrid, he’s mainly just tired. that is what drives him even more to not show how broken he is. he’s always doing his part to be there for everyone else, not many people see that he needs someone to be there for him.

due to him being so good at hiding all his issues, he’s become really good at seeing the signs of when someone else needs help and will never hesitate in offering to help.  he’s used to only being able to rely on himself, he doesn’t want that for anyone else. 

he’s also known to get a little temperamental at times. never around the people he cares about, always able to keep it down until he explodes on some poor stranger.   fearing losing anyone else he cares about, deacon can be a bit possessive. he does his best to not show it, but he can’t always help it. when he actually allows people in, he holds on as tightly as he can.

s u m m a r y :     deacon grew up in salem, but when his adopted parents died when he was thirteen, him and his older brother ( who was seventeen at the time ) moved away. during this time, deacon really started to lose control on his emotions which made it hard for him to control his powers that came with being an incubi. he’s always known he was adopted and what he was, but never fully understood it since he didn’t have anyone to teach him. though his family did their best. once he was old enough, to run away from all his problems and to hopefully do better, deacon enlisted in the military. now he’s back in town cause he’s contract was up and he heard his brother was back in town. still trying to do his best to help people, he started working as a firefighter right away. 

he has this need to try to help people cause he see’s himself as a monster. he hates what he is and hates how easy it is for him to hurt people. despite that though, he is neutral in the fight, mainly cause he doesn’t know what’s happening. but also because he’s fought in a different war and struggles over it... he’s not sure he’d be ready to do it all again. though, he might not be able to stay out of it for long. 

h e a d c a n o n s :     due to hybrids being a hit and miss amongst people, it was no surprise that deacon was given up as a baby. his biological mother wanted nothing to do with him once she realised what he was, she didn’t even bother naming him. she just dumped him off in the woods and left him for dead since know one would take a demon child. he had been lucky that renee hall had been near by and heard his cries. the kind women didn’t even hesitate in bringing him home with her.  the hall family had no issue in bonding with the unnamed child and while they tried to find his parents, when they learned what he was and what most likely happened to him, they took him in and named him. adopting him easily. david was given his middle name after his new father and brother while his brother picked the name david for him. they did this to show him ( later, when he was old enough to know the truth ) that they ALL welcomed him.

growing up, david knew he was different from his family, so when he was old enough and they told him he was adopted, he had no issue with it. they were his family and nothing else mattered. as a young boy, he admired his older brother to the point of following him around, trying to be like him. or would try to make him happy by using the powers that came with being an incubi. powers he discovered by accident and would sometime get out of control but his brother was always an anchor for him and helped him reel it in.

david was doing well with his family; he was happy and healthy. and he always seemed to do really really in school. always seeming to be ahead of everyone else. he was able to pick things up very easily. david was definitely considered popular in school, not that he really tried. he just got along with everyone. being both part of the smart group of kids as well as the athlete’s, it made it easy for him to befriend most people.

when he was thirteen, his parents told him and james the good news that they were expecting and would be having a girl. something david had said he wanted from a young age. he had wanted to be a big brother like james was and do for them what james always did for him. however, everything took a turn for the worse when there was a fire, that was caused by faulty electrical wiring, which resulted in the death of both his parents and his unborn sister.                ↳    david remembers it clearly, he’ll never forget it. laying on a stretcher, completely alone thinking his entire family was gone. the paramedics that surrounded didn’t tell him anything about his family. it was less then a minute before james came into view, but it felt like a lifetime. in those few seconds, he had to deal with the most unbearable pain of thinking not only did he lose his family but having to deal with thinking he was the only survivor. however, when james reached out for him, david just cried. cried for the pain he was in, both physically and mentally. while the turns were unbearable, it was the pain of having lost his parents that really had him lose it. refusing to let go of james’ hand.

after the fire, james and david left salem. neither able to cope with being in the town anymore. james stepped up and helped david as much as he could. david did his best to make it easy on his brother, not wanting him to carry all the weight himself. but his grades started to slip and he had more accidents with him losing control of his powers. he wasn’t dealing with his own grief very well.

when david was seventeen, things had started to get a little better. he couldn’t be his complete old self again, but he was starting to try again. though it was short lived when he became sexually active with his girlfriend. he hadn’t realised what was happening until it was too late. completely horrified and full of guilt, david ran to the only person he had left. james helped him deal with it all and helped understand exactly what was happening but nothing could stop the guilt david felt. he could get the image of his girlfriend’s face out of his head. so he did the only thing he could think of. he ran. james found him and despite the relationship not being what it once was, helped him. like the way he used to when they had their family.

at the age of eighteen, david made sure james would be fine on his own and took off to enlist. for him, it was a way to do better. to make up for the horror of what he did. plus, it had been something he wanted to do before, but had fortten about it after everything. being away from james made it hard for david to even hear his own name. everyone started calling him deacon cause there was a guy who enlisted with him that thought it was his name. it stuck since there were two other david’s and he refused to be called by his last name since it hurt too much.

he did his best to keep in touch with his brother, but it was hard. deacon learned more about his brother from tabloids than actually being able to talk to his own brother. despite not talking much to his brother, deacon would ALWAYS write his brother. he’d write a letter almost everyday. just keeping his brother up to date with him, even if he didn’t always get a reply back. even in the middle of a warzone, all he could do was worry about his brother. half the time he doesn’t even realise his own pain because he is too busy worrying about everyone else. being what they need. a brother, a soldier, a friend, a lover, their crying shoulder, their ear to vent to, their punching bag, etc.

a mission he was on cost him greatly and once again, deacon found himself losing everyone he cared about. the guys from his unit were ambushed and deacon was the only survivor but he managed to get each and every fallen soldier back with him. deacon was honoured with a silver star and allowed to go home again. so he decided it was time for him to come home and stay home. finding james was easy, trying to get back their bond was harder. but he wasn’t giving up.

once arriving back to salem, deacon found it easy to get a job as a firefighter. given his history, the captain couldn’t turn him away. deacon had spent time being a field medic and the fire captain knew it would be foolish to not have the man on his team.

in his free time, deacon can be found painting/drawing or working on his bike. things in which help him stay calm.

e x t r a :     pinterest.    spotify(TBA).    moodboard(TBA).

[fandom-necromancer]

Unlikely, not impossible

This was prompted by an awesome anon! I’m not the most experienced, so I hope this is okay!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 | AU: A/B/O, mpreg (Warnings: talk about something that could be considered infertility)

Gavin smiled as he walked through the living room, not quite sure what scent lifted his mood more: the sizzling smell of bacon or the lingering scent of Alpha. His Alpha. His strong, beautiful bondmate he loved more than anything in his life. Okay, maybe he knew exactly what had him grinning, but the bacon was a nice addition. Before he could meet him though, he had to go to the bathroom. Comb back his fuzzy hair at least a bit and spray some water on his face. While looking himself up and down in the mirror, his eyes settled on a small box sitting underneath it. Well, he had to take a piss anyways, so why not? It was routine by now. It had started as him clinging to hope after the diagnose but now it was just another part of him getting ready for the day. Pregnancies in male Omegas were possible. Just not very likely. It was a rare occasion and often tied to complications. When Gavin had started presenting and had gone to get himself tested, the results had been disappointing. The doctors had claimed an unbonded pregnancy impossible and even when bonded chances it would work were very slim. Gavin had always wanted kids. Not being able to have his own, he had figured he would adopt one day. But then with work and him feeling too instable to raise them, he never acted on that. And he had accepted someday that it would never happen.

Until Nines came along. This beautiful, beautiful android that just marched into his life like the arrogant Alpha he had been designed to be. This android that had softened so much around the edges once they had grown close. This android that had managed to help Gavin accept his natural traits instead of trying to be as alpha as possible to prove the whole world wrong. This android Gavin loved more than anything else in the world. With him the thoughts of having children returned. How would Nines handle children? Would it be their chance to set something beautiful into the world? It made the old scar of his inability burn up once more. But as both of them had discussed already: Nines had never expected it of him. Nines had chosen him as his Omega because he adored him. He had told him how he hated other Alphas who used an Omegas submission to do what they wanted. And in the years that followed, he had proved his words true.

It didn’t stop Gavin from taking the pregnancy tests though. Not that he ever expected something to happen. He certainly didn’t expect what the test was showing him right now: Two stripes. That was impossible, the thing had to be faulty! But how likely was that? He took another one and couldn’t believe it as the result was the same. ‘Gavin?’ The man looked up as he heard his husband calling him from the kitchen. ‘Everything alright?’ ‘Y-Yes! I’m coming!’

-

Gavin sat down at the kitchen table hesitantly and watched how Nines set down a plate in front of him. It was difficult to pick up a piece of bacon on his fork with his head still spinning. ‘Are you sure you are alright, Gavin?’, Nines asked again, his voice dripping with worry. His scent had intensified in a subconscious effort to comfort his mate. ‘You don’t look too good.’ ‘Yeah, yeah, I’m fine I… Nines… I…’ He swallowed. ‘Nines, I think you got me pregnant.’ He finally dared to look up, his insecurities and anxiety going haywire. How would Nines take it? Would he… Would he be happy? Would his Alpha approve? Gavin nearly slapped himself. This was his decision and if he really could carry this new life, he would, no matter what Nines thought of it. But… Damn. Please be happy about it.

Nines just sat there, staring at him, LED red. And with every passing moment, Gavin felt sicker waiting for the response. Until suddenly, Nines sobbed and held his hand in front of his mouth. Needless to say, Gavin was mortified, half standing up and already on his way over to comfort his Alpha, who was so strong. Take care of him. Be a good Omega. But he didn’t make it far with Nines rising to his feet too and welcoming Gavin in his arm, squeezing him hard.

‘Oh, Gavin! You…’ Another sound, half sob, half laugh, escaped his lips. ‘I am so happy! Are you… are you sure? I… You said you couldn’t…’ ‘The doctors said that’, Gavin muttered, blown away by Nines being so dishevelled at the news. ‘But being bonded to you… Maybe you were just right. No. You were exactly right.’ ‘I can’t believe it, Gav! I can’t… I am lost for words. I… God, you are pregnant!’ By now Gavin was laughing too, relieved that Nines had reacted like that. ‘Do you want to keep it?’, the android asked. ‘Of course! Nines, I always wanted a child.’ ‘Me too.’

-

Had Gavin known there to be this many complications, he didn’t know whether he had agreed this easily. Especially now, kneeling in front of the toilet with Nines hovering around him, he was fed up with it all. Everything was fine according to doctors they had visited, but it certainly didn’t feel like it. Frequent nausea that often ended in a quick bathroom break. Weird cravings for certain foods. Even more drastically mood swings than were normal with him. It was tiring most of the days. it was worth it though. The nights spent together with Nines stroking his slight bulge so carefully and lovingly. Them sitting down and trying to find baby names. It also had its nice sides. Not that the change was only on Gavin. Nines had grown a hundred percent more protective, not that he wasn’t before. He was constantly cooking for him and researching on how to provide the best care and nutrients to Gavin and the baby. He had given him the best back rubs to relieve the pain from the additional weight and made sure Gavin had enough pillows and blankets should he need them. What Gavin couldn’t stand, was the constant hovering. Long since they were put on desk duty, but Nines wanted him to stay home where he was safe. He insisted to drive Gavin everywhere although he could walk just fine.

‘Gavin, you shouldn’t carry that much!’ Gavin sighed, as the bags were practically ripped from his hands. ‘Nines, we were grocery shopping. It’s not like we bought a fridge!’ ‘Gavin, I am an android, I can easily lift this for you. You shouldn’t put so much strain on you.’ Gavin tried hard to keep himself calm and failed miserably: ‘Nines, I didn’t have my arms cut off! I’m just pregnant. I can help you!’ ‘But you don’t have to. Just open the door for me, would you?’ The man sighed, turning the key in the lock and opening it for the android. ‘What would you like to eat later?’, Nines asked, storing away the food. ‘Anything is fine.’ ‘Okay. Do you need anything? Your shoulders are terribly stiff. Is your back hurting again?’ ‘Phck, Nines, shut it! I don’t need anything, I just want my peace for a little while, okay?’ ‘Of course, Gavin’, Nines nodded and looked to the floor, clearly nervous.

So, Gavin let himself flop down on a chair and sighed. Nines was just reacting how any Alpha would, hell how any normal person would react. So, he just deflated and muttered: ‘Doesn’t mean I’d say no to a back rub.’ That would be nine very long months…

[snowdice]

Gaps in His Files (Part 4) [Relabeled; Refiled Series]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Logan/Patton

Characters:

Main: Logan, Patton

Appear: Remy, Virgil (but only in the epilogue)

Summary:

Logan Berry has learned many things the last 10 years: a lot of math and physics, a bit of humility, and how to be a hero being just a few. Through his education, his experience teaching, and his exploits as the superhero Bluebird, he’s changed in a lot of small and large ways. He has recorded these changes in well-organized documents and files. He’s even had to create two new file designations: a red one for files about his moonlighting at Bluebird, and a light blue one dedicated to his boyfriend, Patton.

When Bluebird is targeted by a memory device and all of those 10 years of progress suddenly disappear, Patton Sanders and Logan’s extensive files are left as his only resource to get those memories back. But what is Patton supposed to do when there are clear gaps in his files? And what does he do when he is one of them?

This is set 25 years before Sometimes Labels Fail though it’s story is completely independent of it and it is not necessary to read that one first.

Notes: Superhero AU, memory loss, past child abuse, past child neglect, unhealthy ideas about ones place in relationships, emotional suppression, self-deprecating thoughts, medical procedures mentioned, very brief unhealthy views of sex

Does anyone see the Easter Egg in here? Probably not. It’s pretty vague...

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Patton did not like driving Logan’s “special car.” It didn’t matter what position he put the seat in, he still either couldn’t reach the pedals or he felt like he was too scrunched up; the radio was (somehow) only set up to receive the local news station as well as some weird station that only ran a program detailing crop growing strategies which Patton thought must be some sort of cover for a channel sending messages in code (at least he really hoped it was because otherwise its existence was an affront to humanity); and he’d accidentally zapped himself with electricity while trying to adjust the temperature twice in the past and he still didn’t know if that was a feature or faulty wiring and Logan had refused to give an argument that convinced him either way. Not to mention, the car didn’t legally exist. If Patton got pulled over in this thing, what was he supposed to tell the police? Sorry, my boyfriend doesn’t have insurance, I’m pretty sure he built this death trap himself out of scrap metal because I can’t even discern the make and model.

“The corn! THE CORN,” the radio spewed.

“Yes, the corn,” Patton spat back. “I know. I heard you the first time.” Unfortunately, today, listening to the corn channel was better than listening to the news. The local news station continued to discuss and theorize what had happened earlier that afternoon over and over until Patton couldn’t take it anymore.

A memory gun had hit Logan. It had been a theory at first considering the things Lightwave and Logan had said along with the fact that Logan hadn’t seemed to remember how to fly, and had been all but confirmed a couple of hours ago when news that the police had investigated the dropped weapon leaked. Which all meant Logan was out there floundering with no idea what was going on or who he was. Patton wondered how much was gone. Had it erased all of his memories? Did he even know his name? He’d known enough to be able to use his powers, but was that instinct and muscle memory?

The theorizing on the local news station just made Patton’s blood pressure spike more with every passing second. Not that turning off the radio and being left alone with his own thoughts was much better. So…

“Crop rotation!”

Patton was the only person who knew Bluebird’s secret identity (at least, as far as Logan had told him.) Well… Remy might have guessed, but he hadn’t been officially told, and Patton doubted he’d be any help anyway. So, Patton was the only person who could really look for him. Sure, he was certain the police were searching (as well as some doubtlessly more dangerous people), but Patton was the only one who knew Logan.

You don’t know this Logan.

His Logan would have gone back to his apartment or maybe Patton’s if he were injured.

Patton gripped the steering wheel tighter. Okay. Maybe this Logan didn’t know where his apartment was. Maybe he didn’t know who Patton was. But he was still Logan, and Logan was rational and, more importantly, predictable. Patton would bet that in a circumstance where he knew nothing about what was going on, he would default to general survival tactics and what had he ranted and ranted to Patton about when they’d watched that one survival movie? Follow the water. Water is where you find food and shelter and almost certainly civilization if you follow it downstream. Sure, that was for when someone was lost in a forest or something, not already in a city, but Patton hoped he’d fallen into that strategy despite that, at least until he thought up something else better.

That’s why Patton had been driving up and down the river for the past few hours looking for anything suspicious and listening to someone blather on about corn. He pulled up underneath a bridge. It was a little bit away from the hustle and bustle of the city, but near enough to get to a more populated area quicklym and it had some good shelter around because there were trees. Patton bit his lip. If he thought like Logan, this would be a good place to stop. He decided to get out of the car and go out on foot for a bit.

Before exiting the car, he checked to make sure the mask was still in place. It felt strange on his face; he never really wore one. He clicked the locking mechanism which made the lights flash once but didn’t beep. He turned and froze when he met eyes under the bridge. The stranger didn’t speak but watched Patton intently from what looked like a makeshift house under the corner of the bridge. Patton edged out from beneath the bridge and headed toward the riverbanks. His shoes sunk into the mud a bit. It was starting to get dark which made it hard for him to search for things that looked out of place, especially when he was unfamiliar with the area. He was just running on blind Logan behavior instinct at this point. It was also starting to get cold. Patton hoped Logan had chosen to wear the winter super suit or he’d found a coat or something.

He wandered, looking into dark places and listening for any sounds beyond the river crashing into the banks. Around 15 minutes into his walk, his eyes caught on a large rock in front of a drainage pipe. Perfect, Logan’s voice said in his head. Patton crept over to check it out. No one was there, but it looked like someone had been recently by a smear of mud near the base of the rock that looked like someone’s foot had slipped there. Okay. He peered around him carefully, walking back toward the river. He had the sudden feeling of being watched. Up. He looked up at a small ledge along the bank and sighed in relief. “Thank god.”

Logan stumbled back a step when he realized Patton had seen him and turned tail to run again.

“Wait, L-” he cut himself off. He couldn’t risk it just in case someone was listening. There was a reason he had the mask and the car after all. Patton was the only one who knew his identity and Logan wanted to keep it that way. He thought quickly, head latching onto a story he’d been told one night curled up against a half-asleep Logan. “I’m Devora the Mood Goddess?” he tried.

Logan paused and turned to face him. “You know me,” he said peering at him from behind the mask still on his face.

Patton nodded, shoulders dropping in relief. “I do.” He offered a hand. “Come with me?”

He looked at the offered hand and then at Patton’s face. There was a moment of silence and then he nodded slowly and took a few steps down toward Patton. Patton grabbed hold of his arm when he got close enough, loosely so as not to startle him even though he wanted to latch on and never let go. Something loosed in Patton’s chest at the contact.

“Who are you?” Logan asked, accepting the touch, though he looked at Patton’s hand on his arm in confusion.

“In the car okay,” Patton requested. He nodded after a moment. “Are you okay?”

“I have body aches and from context clues, I assume memory loss,” he said, “but otherwise I feel well enough.”

“Good. Let’s get back to the car.”

They picked their way back toward the bridge through the muddy riverside. Patton groaned softly when there was an unmarked police car parked next to Logan’s car.

“What?” Logan asked at normal volume.

“Shh,” Patton scolded, but it was too late. A flashlight flared to light and turned to them the next second. “Hello Detective,” Patton said wryly. Patton had met Detective Silvia a couple of times, but of course she didn’t know that since Patton was wearing a mask. Logan knew her a bit more as Bluebird. She gave him a very suspicious look that grew almost hostile when she saw Logan was with him.

“Bluebird,” she said.

“So, I’ve come to understand,” Logan replied.

“I’m his friend. I’m here to help,” Patton said.

“Every villain in the city is looking for him, excuse me for not believing your word.” Patton sighed.

“He knows the code word,” Logan said.

She considered him and then shook her head. “I’d still be more comfortable if you came down to the station.”

Logan tilted his head at her. “No,” he said firmly. Then the detective yelped as her feet left the ground.

“Bluebird no!” Patton hissed. “The detective is our friend.”

“She is not my friend,” Logan replied with a frown. “I don’t know her.”

Patton rubbed his temples. “Just get in the car and put her down gently when you do.”

He went without compliant and Patton rounded the car. His eyes fell on the man he’d seen earlier, backed up against the wall with wide eyes. “Thanks for being concerned for him buddy,” Patton said.

They both got in the car and Patton drove away. He saw the detective being placed back on her feet in the rearview mirror. “Well, I’m going to have to send her a fruit basket,” he mumbled under his breath.

Want to read more? Click below!

AO3 Part 5

[artificialqueens]

Hot as Hell and No A/C, Chapter 8 (Branjie) - Blackhighheels

Eight

Jose is completely lost in the beat of the music and his own movements, when suddenly the beat stops and the music is turned off.

”Hey!”

”Vanj’ it’s one am, I’d like to sleep for a bit, but my bedroom is right above the studio,” Jason points out and Jose is shocked when he hears what time it is.

”Sorry, mami, didn’t realise how late it is.”

”It’s ok. But why are you still here?”

”I don’t know. Can’t sleep, I guess.” Jose knows exactly why he can’t sleep, but he doesn’t really want to talk about it.

”How’s it going with Brock?” Jason addresses the elephant in the room anyway and sits down crosslegged on the floor.

”Child… nothing’s going. I think I should have stayed my ass home in L.A.” Jose sits down beside his friend.

”So you’re not back together?”

”The asshole’s not even really talking to me and when he does, he’s yelling, telling me to go the fuck home and leave him alone.” Jose mumbles, because the words are hard to get over the lips. He doesn’t want to say them. ”And we was never together.”

”But you want to be.”

”I don’t know,” Jose shrugs helplessly. ”I still can’t see how’d work.”

”Isn’t that why you here though? To get him back, or like, get ya man?”

”Nah, mami, that’s not why I’m here. I’m here ‘cause Miss Ada scared the shit out of me when she told me how bad things had got. I tried posting shit online, knowing he’d see it. I tried calling again, I texted… but the motherfucker never reacted. I was worried he’d hurt himself and jumped into the car, texted Ada I was on my way and came here. Just to be told to fucking leave him alone.” It’s good to get it off his chest, when he’s been keeping it all inside for the last five days.

”He still didn’t talk when you went to Dallas together?”

”Not a single word.” Jose shakes his head. ”He slept though.” He adds, but Jason just nods and shrugs a little, because he doesn’t understand the importance of that little detail.

Brock had fallen asleep in his car, his head turned in his direction, his fingers laced with Jose’s on the middle console. They had only been twenty minutes from home when Brock fell asleep and Jose kept driving. He drove around in the dark, not really knowing where he was going. At some point, when Brock slouched more and more in the seat, Jose turned off the road and into a field somewhere along the road. He parked on the gravel road, unbuckled his seatbelt and Brock’s and pulled him against him, when he basically fell into him. Brock didn’t even budge, he was so fast asleep. Jose thought long and hard as he held Brock in the car, the situation not too different from the last time Brock had slept in his arms on the couch in Jason’s guest apartment. But Brock felt different. Thinner, more tense, less tall in a way. Jose leaned his cheek against Brock’s head and felt needed. Brock’s a stubborn motherfucker, who refuses help, but he needs him, wether he wants to admit it or not.

Jose is still convinced of that two days later, but Brock’s behaviour is starting to wear him down. The hostility hurts like a bitch and every time Brock remains silent, ignores him or tells him to leave, Jose loses hope a little bit more. It’s not even about a love story anymore; it’s about a friendship, a gay man in need or just a  person who needs help, plain and simple. If Jose didn’t love him as much, it  wouldn’t hurt as badly.

”Well, you’re here now and I don’t think you drove all the way just to give up like this.” Jason gives him an encouraging smile.

”I don’t even know if it’s worth to keep fighting. I don’t even know for what? That he talks to me or gets fucking forced into some kind of weird ass friendship with me? If he don’t want me here, maybe I should just leave.”

”Jo, I’ve know him all my life and he’s never been anything but polite to everyone. Even if he hated someone’s guts, he was at least cordial and aloof. Now, if he’s like that upset you’re here and pushes you away that hard, that means something.” Jason wraps one arm around his shoulders and gives him a hug. ”I think you should stay here and wait until he can’t resist no more. I didn’t tell ya, because we kind of avoided the subject, but when you left, he was sobbing right outside that door and I had to bring him inside so people wouldn’t see him losing it. That’s not something a guy does who doesn’t feel anything for you.”

”Then he’s an even bigger dumb-ass than I thunk.” Jose sighs and places his head on Jason’s shoulder.

”That he is. But you wouldn’t be in love with him if he wasn’t.” Jose playfully punches Jason’s thigh and they both grin.

***

Brock is incredibly wary when he gets called to Jason’s dance studio to once more fix the faulty air-conditioning. He wishes Jason would just throw the damn thing out and get a new one, so he wouldn’t have to fix it very couple of weeks, especially now that Jose is back. Since Ada tricked him into driving to Dallas with Jose, he always suspects the Puerto-Rican to pop up somewhere  and the two of them be pushed together again. It’s only been a couple of days since the trip, but he still hasn’t really recovered from it and keeps looking over his shoulder, metaphorically speaking.

When he’d woken up in the car hours after they were supposed to be home, he had awkwardly untangled from Jose and had asked him what they were doing parked in the open field. Jose told him that he didn’t want to wake him and then drove him home without so much as another word. He hadn’t got out of the car as Brock took out the bags and Jose was gone as soon as Brock closed the trunk. Since then he hasn’t seen him, which makes him feel even worse. He fears that Jose is gone, as much as he fears that he is still around.

Brock thinks that if he sees Jose again, he should maybe just explain himself. Jose hadn’t been as hostile when he got here at first. It was him, completely overwhelmed and always angry, who had been rude right from the start, without any reason. It was highly unfair, Brock knows that, but he’s not sure what the best plan of action is. He doesn’t know Jose well enough to figure out which way will be better: Talking to him and letting him know they should both go their separate ways, because it’s better for Jose in the long run, or just shutting him out and not discussing the issue with him. It’s made harder by the fact that Brock longs to talk to him, just to tell him about his days, what he’s done, what he’s seen, the fights he’s had with his father and the way the kitten he named Henry, is still following him around and is waiting for him every day when he gets home.

To his biggest surprise, it’s Jason who is waiting for him, while he can hear the blaring music from the dance studio.

”Don’t worry, it’s just Vanjie who is working on new choreo. He’ll be in there until the middle of the night and won’t bother you,” Jason tells him when he glances at the door of the room.

”He doesn’t bother me,” Brock shrugs and sets up the ladder he needs to climb up to the air conditioning device. He will take it down today, disassemble it completely and only put it back together when he knows exactly what is wrong, once and for all.

”Alright then, just close the door behind you when you leave, Jose will lock it once he’s done. Good night.” And with that Jason is gone.

It’s hard to concentrate when you know that the man you both love and fear is just behind the door, but somehow Brock manages to keep his mind on the job at hand.

”Oh, I didn’t think you’re still here. The banging stopped a while ago,” Jose’s voice makes him look up a long while later, when he’s just trying to rewire the whole unit. He sounds surprised, wary and already harsh.

”Fixing the electric doesn’t include banging,” Brock shrugs. Jose just nods and turns to leave. ”Hey, uhm, Jose?” Brock adds quickly, because he can’t bear to watch him walk away from him again.

”Mh?”

”I just… like…” Seeing the unnerved look on Jose’s face, Brock loses his courage. ”Forget it.”

”No, spit it out,” Jose comes back, arms crossed in front of his chest, chin raised.

”It’s… it’s not important.”

Jose huffs. ”Not important, huh? You’re such a fucking asshole. Just stop talking to me then.”

”Why are you being like this?” Brock asks, puts down the tools and stands up. He knows he has messed up, but Jose has never been plain out hostile before.

”Why am I… Bitch!” Jose turns red in the face, his arms uncross and his fists clench. ”You’re the most unfeeling and cruelest motherfucker I’ve ever come across! But I guess that’s how your fucked up family treats people and you no exception! What’s next? You gonna beat me up? Spit at me? You’ve fucking hurt me enough!” Jose is yelling now.

”I’ve never hurt you!” Brock yells back, because he is absolutely sure he’s never laid hands on Jose, hit him or harmed him otherwise.

”You’re fucking hurting me right now! Right here!” Suddenly there are tears in Jose’s eyes and that’s even worse than Jose’s anger. ”This shit right here, hurts so bad. You hot and cold, push me away just to start talking to me again. You say you my friend, then beg me to make love with you, just to ghost me. You’re so fucked up you don’t care about nothing but your own feelings and your own misery and your own fucked up life. You haven’t ask me once how I am. Not months ago, not now. Like the absolute idiot that I am, I come back here to help you and what do I get? Nothing but rudeness and silence.”

”I never asked you to come back! I wanted you to stay away from me, from this town, so you would be happy and won’t get hurt. I know I’m fucked up, that’s why I didn’t want to ruin your perfect life, in the perfect town far away from here.”

”What do you know about my life? Nothing, that’s what! If you’d asked even once, you’d know about my own fucked up family, the racism in the industry, the threats I get online ‘cause I’m gay. Your hillbilly ass don’t know nothing about how my ex cheated on me and then abused me, ‘cause you never fucking asked! Took me two long years to kick his ass out and now, just my fucking luck, when I finally made it through it all, I fall in love with a guy who doesn’t fucking want me and wastes away right in front of my eyes, because he’d rather be fucking unhappy than be himself. You used me for one night only and now you don’t give a shit about me or you wouldn’t hurt me like that.” Jose is yelling again. But he’s also crying, tears dripping off his nose, though he tries to stop them by wiping at his eyes every couple of seconds.

If Brock thought he felt horrible before, he’s learning now that nothing compares to watching the man you love break down in front of your eyes. He feels helpless, he feels sad, he feels Jose’s pain and he knows it’s all his fault. No one is allowed to hurt Jose, not even himself. He can’t stand seeing Jose cry.

Jose is sweaty from the training, but his skin is cool when Brock pulls him against him and holds him tightly. He feels Jose’s sobs against his chest and doesn’t really know what to do, other than hold him.

”I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Brock keeps repeating as he presses kiss after kiss to Jose’s damp forehead. ”Of course I care about you. I love you, too. And I’m so so sorry.” If Brock could take his pain, he’d do it gladly, even if he’d feel even worse.

”You better be,” Jose sniffs once he has calmed down a bit. ”Fuck, I missed you,” he says and adjusts his hold on Brock, wraps his arms around his waist and buries his face in Brock’s shoulder.

”I really am sorry, papi.”

When Jose looks up, their eyes meet and they both lean in simultaneously. Finally, after all these months, Brock feels Jose’s lips back on his. This kiss is sweeter than all those before. Brock knows what he feels for Jose is real and it’s not going away and this kiss isn’t just to say goodbye.  With a heavy heart he stops, before the kiss can escalate even further, but keeps Jose close. ”Can we talk?”

”We better, before we continue this and things will get even more fucked up.” Jose agrees but doesn’t let go of him either. Instead he leans his forehead against Brock’s chest, seeking more physical contact.

”I just have to finish here first.” Brock wrinkles his forehead as he looks at the chaos of the still disassembled AC and runs his fingers through Jose’s sweaty hair.

”Leave it. We talk and Imma help you later, k?” He places a kiss to the middle of Brock’s chest before he stands back up straight.

”Ok.”

With that Jose takes his hands and leads him upstairs to his apartment.

***

”Did you bring Thackery again?” Brock asks as he gets dragged into the apartment.

”Yeah,  bet the lazy fucker’s sleeping somewhere,” Jose nods, leans against the closed door and pulls Brock’s head down to kiss him again. It’s a lot more heated than any of their previous kisses. Brock is easily lured into the kiss and pushes Jose against the door. He holds him up, Jose’s legs slung around his waist as they kiss each other senseless, noses bumping, tongues battling and the occasional bite in between. After a while, Jose finds his common sense again and breaks the kiss, much to Brock’s disappointment. He doesn’t want to stop because this is the first time in months he doesn’t feel like shit.

”Fuuuuck, we was supposed to talk not make out,” Jose groans as the back of his head hits the door. There’s a small smile on his kiss-swollen lips.

”Then let’s do that.” Gently Brock lets him down and they sit down on the sofa.

”You wanna drink something?”

”No, not really. I’m too nervous.” There’s a sense of doom still hanging over his head. Jose’s acceptance of his apology and his enthusiastic kiss should give him hope that they will somehow find some common ground, but he doesn’t trust it. He never trusts anything good that happens to him, because it never lasts. Why would this thing with Jose be any different, when he can see absolutely no reason why he would want to be with him for longer than one night. He might think he loves him, but what about when his parents find out? What when he has no more place to live, no job, no car, no nothing. What will Jose think then, when at the same time he has his life sorted out in L.A. He doesn’t need his problems and Brock can’t understands why he has come back to dive head first back into them.

”Nervous? You didn’t get nervous when you ravished me against that door,” Jose points out.

”I didn’t….” The shit eating smirk on Jose’s face stops Brock’s protest. ”Idiot.” They smile at each other and it lightens the mood a bit.

Brock doesn’t really know where to start or how to explain himself. He wants Jose to be happy, but he’s not sure how to achieve it: By staying away or by being with him.

”What do ya want, Brock? What do you want from me?” Jose finally asks, his voice soft and quiet, maybe a little scared, but he keeps up the eye contact, which is unnerving.

”I… I know that you’re better off without me in the long run. None of what’s here in this town and with me is anything that will make you happy.  I have nothing to offer you and I don’t know why you came back. That’s why I should push you away again, make you go back to L.A..”

”I didn’t ask what you think you should do, I asked what you want. You know, that’s different.”

Brock doesn’t have to think about it, he knows what he wants, even if he can’t have it. ”I want to be with you.” Jose smiles. ”But I shouldn’t because…” He is silenced with a kiss.

”I wanna be with you, too.” Now Brock is smiling, can’t help it when Jose looks at him like this, all cute and with all the love shining in his eyes. ”Now we just gotta figure out how we do that.”

”Do you really think we could make it work? Why do you want… me?” Brock is still doubtful. He’s never even allowed himself to hope that this could come true.

”It’ll work if we wanna make it work. We just gotta put the work in.” Jose is so sure about it, that his optimism is contagious. ”And I want you, ‘cause I don’t choose who I fall in love with, it just happens. And you’re funny and sweet and you don’t do me dirty, you have a good heart and love your family.  You’re not a player nd you don’t give a shit about my fame. You don’t even really know anything about the people I work with. You no fame chaser and you care about me, Jose, not Vanjie. And it’s not a bad thing either that you hot as fuck.” Brock’s smile gets wider and he has to kiss him again. As they make out once more, Brock ends up lying on top of Jose, their legs tangled on the couch as they kiss and can’t stop. It’s a weird thing, considering that Brock went his whole adult life without being as helplessly subjected to his own primal urges; but around Jose he can’t help himself. For four long months he’s missed him and he’s denied himself even the hope of ever being with him again. And yet, here they are, helplessly and stupidly in love with one another.

”Before we gonna get down and real dirty, I have to take a shower. I’m all disgusting,” Jose mumbles in between kisses.

”You’re not disgusting.” To demonstrate it, he sucks and licks the skin beneath Jose’s ear, tasting the salty sweat.

”You can always join me in the shower, if ya know what I’m saying,” he grins up at him. When the words register with Brock, he basically jumps up and makes Jose laugh out loud. ”You such a dork.”

”Oh shut up and lead the way!” Brock laughs with him, his head already full of fantasies about Jose in the shower, his skin wet and the room full of steam as their bodies glide against each other.

It’s a bit awkward to get undressed in front of each other, while not undressing each other, Brock thinks. He’s never been one to play any kind of sports that needed locker rooms and community showers. He steals glances at Jose, who throws his sweaty clothes into the hamper, while Brock folds his carefully. He’ll need them later.

They climb into the tub and start kissing again as soon as Jose has turned on the water. It’s more fun than sexy, Brock finds, as he washes Jose’s hair and steals kisses while Jose keeps complaining about the suds running in his eyes. Brock styles his hair, so it’s sticking up, held up by the foam.

”What are you doing?” Jose asks him, still wiping at his eyes.

”Nothing,” Brock giggles and wipes Jose’s eyes with a towel. ”You look like a porcupine,” he finally points out.

Jose shakes his head. ”I should kick your bitch ass for all the shit you put me through. This,” he points to his hair, ”is just the top of the iceberg.”

”Tip of the iceberg, babe.” Jose gives him a death stare, which makes Brock laugh. ”I’m sorry.”

”It’s ok. You can make it up to me.”

Brock wraps his arms around Jose’s waist as he tips his head back and rinses out the shampoo. ”How?”

”Like this.” Jose pushes at his shoulders, so he goes down on his knees. If this is the penance Brock has to do, he does so gladly, Brock thinks, as he takes Jose’s half hard cock in his mouth.

He takes his time licking and blowing him. He moves his mouth down, sucks his balls and finally turns him around and does something he’s never had the urge to do before, and rims him. The sounds Jose makes above him are delicious and by the time he turns off the now cold water, they’re both fully hard.

Thackery is spread out across the bed when they make it into the bedroom, both still more wet than towelled dry. Jose picks the cat up, puts him in the hallway and closes the door.

”He’s a voyeur?” Brock smiles and sits down on the bed.

”No idea, but I’m not fucking with my cat in the room. That’s just sick. I’d feel like a perv,” Jose scrunches up his face in the cutest way and straddles Brock’s lap. ”Here we are again.”

”Mmh. Only you won’t leave tomorrow.” As soon as he’s spoken the words, it registers with him that he never actually asked. ”You won’t, right?”

”No, I won’t. Can’t leave you idiot alone for too long or you go nuts.” Jose looks at him with such tenderness that Brock lowers his eyes so he won’t start crying. ”We gonna make this work, I promise. Tomorrow we’ll come up with a plan. I like you too much to be ignored by you again. And by the weight you’ve lost, I’d say you weren’t doing too great either.”

”I missed you so much.” Brock admits and looks at him again. ”I love you.”

They let their bodies talk afterwards and neither lasts too long. They’ve been apart for too long and they are both exhausted. Jose gets up once more to let Thackery back into the room and then they fall asleep, naked and holding each other close.

***

Brock watches Jose as he wakes up. He’s barely opened his eyes when he’s already smiling sleepily because he sees him.

”Morning.”

”Good morning,” Brock replies and gives him a kiss.

”What time is it?” Jose rolls towards him and places his head on Brock’s chest.

”Shortly after six,” he replies after checking.

”Why you watching me awake so fucking early?” Jose’s eyes close again as he snuggles even closer, one leg now thrown across Brock’s. It’s true, he has been watching him for a while. It still feels like a dream to be here with Jose. Now that he has this again, the closeness and the feeling of being loved, he doesn’t really understand why he pushed Jose away in the first place. He’s changed since Jose’s first visit; a lot actually. He’s cried, he has talked about his feelings and his dreams. It seemed like talking about it provoked a change in how he lived and carried himself. He’s out to Ada and he’s ok with being gay. He doesn’t fear going to hell most days anymore, his sister made sure of it. For the first time ever he stood up to his parents, he set boundaries for his father and he started talking honestly with his mother. It all helped him feeling a bit less trapped and unhappy, but nothing compares to just being with Jose. He can’t lose him again and he knows there is one more step he has to take in order to achieve it. Thinking about it makes him nervous, but knowing that no matter the outcome, Ada and Jose will still be there afterwards, makes it a lot less scary.

Brock chuckles. ”Early? I usually get up at half past four. I should have been at work over an hour ago.”

”That’s sick. Torture. Abuse. Cruelty.” Brock knows he’ll go on and on, so he silences him with another kiss. ”You really here?” Jose opens his eyes and blinks at him.

”I should ask you that. I still can’t believe you came back,” Brock wraps both arms around him. ”Why did you come back?”

”Promise, you won’t get angry?”

”I can’t until I hear what you have to say.”

”No, you gotta promise first,” Jose stubbornly insists.

”Fine, I won’t get angry.” Brock agrees, but still rolls his eyes.

”Ada called me and told me you weren’t doing good. She asked me to talk to you, but, ya know,  you wouldn’t pick up your phone. She also told me you stalking me on insta, and I tried to get a reaction from you with the last couple of posts, but you cold-hearted bitch didn’t give me one. So what’s a guy gotta do? I grabbed Thacks and drove my gay ass  here, cause I didn’t want to have your sister call me again and beg me to do this and that.” Jose places a kiss in the middle of Brock’s chest. ”And I missed ya.”

”You know, no matter what we come up with about how to make this work, I think I really need some professional help at some point. I don’t know where or who or how to pay for it, but I can’t go on like this. It hurts Ada and it made me nearly lose you…I don’t wanna feel like crap anymore all the time.”

”I think that’s a good idea. There are some dope ass therapists in L.A., ya know?” Their eyes meet and Jose’s brown orbs say it all.

Still, Brock has to ask because he needs to hear him say it out loud. ”You really want me to come to L.A. with you?”

”Yes.” There’s no hesitation, not for a second. ”I love you, of course I want you with me.” Brock kisses him for the answer that makes his heart warm.

”What would I do there?”

”Therapy,” Jose smirks but then becomes serious again. ”And I dunno, whatever you wanna do. You could find a job as a handy man or work in retail, as a waiter… Whatever, I don’t care. You could also become my sex slave and just wait on me when I get home… naked. Or you could go back to school, get a degree. You wanna study photography, right? You could do that. You’re smart, you’ll figure it out.” Suddenly the possibilities seem endless, when just yesterday there were none.

”I wouldn’t want to be a burden and live off your money.”

”You’re not a burden, you my boyfriend.” The last part sounds more like a question than a statement and Brock knows he has to say something.

”I am.” He confirms and they both smile.

”And I know you not the type of guy who’d just bum around and let me pay the bills. I don’t mind paying for stuff until you’ve got it figured out. If, ya know, that’s what you want… coming to L.A. with me and all.” Brock thinks about it while he places random kisses on Jose’s skin, wherever he can reach.

”I think first I need to come out to my parents and see how that goes. If they accept me, us, then I’ll stay and run the farm. But if they’re not… I might have to take you up on the offer, because unless I’d like to share a room with Rachel, Jonathan and Ruthie, I won’t have anywhere to go.”

”If ya really wanna stay in town, I could talk to Jason. I bet he’d let you live here.”

”How would I pay for it? Without the work on the farm I have no income. Neither Dan nor Ada can pay me.”

”You sure about telling your parents? I don’t wanna force you into doing something you’ll regret. Once it’s out it’s out and I’d hate it if you only come to L.A. with me ‘cause you got no other choice.”

Brock slowly sits up and keeps Jose close until he’s fully upright. Then he pulls back, so he can look at him better. ”Coming with you sounds too good to be true and I’d never see it as my last resort. It’s a dream. In fact, I’d say let’s go right now, if things were different. But my parents are gonna lose the farm if I leave. They can’t do it on their own and the extension of the stable has caused them to be in significant debt. We’re only hanging on by a thread. As soon as I’m gone the bank will come in and foreclose it. But the land has been in my mother’s family for generations and I don’t wanna be the reason why it’s gone, you now? And then there are Dan’s medical bills… it’s a lot.” Jose nods and takes Brock’s hands. ”But after yesterday, last night, this morning…. I’ve been thinking and I can’t remember the last time I slept as well as I did last night and I don’t think I’ve ever been as happy as when I woke up this morning and you were there. I haven’t been happy in a long, long time. I can’t go back to how I was feeling just yesterday. It’s been hell and I know Ada is right and I need professional help, but like… you make it better. Being able to be myself makes it better. Even if you’re willing to hide around here and let me stay in the closet, I can’t do it. I’m done with it, Jose. I just… I can’t live a lie no more.”

”Then you shouldn’t.” Jose encourages him and kisses both of his hands, before he pulls and makes Brock fall on top of him, as he laughs.

”I have to get up and fix the AC.” Brock’s aware that the device is still lying on the grounds in parts.

”Forget about the fucking AC and fuck me instead,” Jose huffs as his hand wraps around Brock’s dick. Who is he to argue with his boyfriend’s wishes?

***

Afterwards Brock takes a quick shower while Jose makes coffee and feeds Thackery. They meet again in the kitchen, Jose only in sweatpants and Brock fully dressed, but it already feels like they’ve been apart for too long.

Brock has to touch him again and runs his hands over his chest as soon as he’s close enough. Jose lets him explore his upper body by touch and memorise him with his rough fingertips, he only bites his lower lip, his teeth digging into it.

Brock steps even closer, and watches Jose’s eyes fall shut and his breath hitch when he runs his fingers up Jose’s sides gently, stroke over his shoulders and make it to his chest. He places his hands there and feels Jose’s heart thumping away against his palms.

”You’re so gorgeous. Inside and out.” Jose opens his eyes again and looks straight into his.

Jose smiles, steals a kiss and cups his face with his hands. ”Right back at ya, babe.” Then he leans in again.

Their coffee is cold when they come up for air and Jose slides off the counter, a mischievous smile on his face. Brock wonders how long they will be like this and won’t able to keep their hands off each other.

”You gonna go down like this?” he asks Jose as they decide to go downstairs so he can finish his work while his boyfriend will keep him company.

”Why you got a problem? Don’t like the view?” Jose is such a fucking tease.

”I love the view a bit too much. You’ll just distract me and I’ll never fix that damn thing.”

”Fine,” he sighs dramatically and quickly grabs a shirt from the bedroom. ”Might be better to cover the hickey you left on me, fucking vampire.”

”You also got on here,” Brock places a kiss on Jose’s clavicle. ”And here,” another kiss on his neck follows, because it’s not like the loose shirt actually covers up anything.

”Stop, idiot or we going back to bed,” Jose giggles and they finally leave the apartment.

Jose is completely useless when it comes to tools or fixing things, Brock finds out, but it’s still more fun to work when he keeps babbling about whatever and Brock can steal a kiss every few minutes.

”You still not done?” Jason comes around the corned when Brock has just reassembled the AC again. ”Don’t tell me you’ve been here all night.” He looks truly shocked.

”I’ve been here all night,” Brock confirms, because it’s the truth after all.

”And what are you already doing up? You better haven’t touched anything! You can’t be trusted with tools.”

”I sure did touch some things… Wouldn’t call them tools,” Jose says with a shit-eating grin and Brock rolls his eyes before they both start laughing.

”No fucking way!” Jason exclaims, his mouth hanging open as he watches them. ”You bitches spent the night together again? There better not be the same drama as last time. No crying!” he points at Brock.

”There won’t be no tears. Imma make sure my boo’s happy,” Jose vows and leans in for another kiss, that Brock gladly gives him.

”You’re really doing this?” Jason sits down besides Jose, absolute disbelieve showing on his face.

”We are. I’m gonna come out to my parents later when I’m done here.”

”Oh… make sure first your dad’s not armed.” Jason isn’t really joking.

”He won’t hurt me. At least not physically.”

”You’re sure about that and you’re ready? I don’t know your family too well, but judging by the way they treat me, you better brace yourself.”

”I know,” Brock sits down on the other side of Jose and places his hand on his thigh. ”Ada already knows and she’s fine with it. Dan and Lily will probably hate me and my father hates me anyway, so not much will change. I just don’t know how my mother will react.”

”What are you gonna do afterwards?”

”If they throw me out I’ll go to L.A. with Jose. If they want me to stay, I’ll stay.”

”If he stays, ya better keep this apartment ready for me, cause I’m gonna spend a lot of time here,” Jose lets Jason know.

”Wow…. I didn’t see this coming. I mean, I never thought you’d come out to your family.”

”With Ada already knowing and now with Jose… I have to. I’m sick and tired of pretending.” Jose gives his hand a squeeze and their eyes meet for a second.

”Seeing you together now it’s not like you got a choice. One look at your dopey smiles and ‘love’ written all over your faces and everybody knows what’s going on. I’m just waiting for the violins to start in the background.”

”Can ya blame me? Look at him!” Jose screeches and makes them all laugh, as Brock pulls him in a playful sideways hold. ”Don’t kill me, babe, kiss me!” he puckers his lips and of course Brock gives in.

”I’m gonna get some coffee myself and then I wanna know how this happened.”

”You not getting them dirty details!”

”I don’t want’em!” Jason laughs as he walks away.

”I’m scared, now that Jason talked about your dad with guns and shit.” Jose becomes serious as soon as they are alone again. Just because he can, Brock pulls him in his lap.

”My dad is always talking about his guns and how he’ll shoot people and what a tough guy he is, but he’s always been an awful shot and since his heart attack he’s had trouble with his eyesight as well. Also, he’s drunk most of the time these days, so he’s aggressive, but hardly able to carry a gun, much less shoot with it. And he doesn’t do well with people that are stronger than him. Beating up his wife and kids is one thing, but he’d never even confront Jason or you, because he’s a fucking coward, gun or no gun.”

”Please, be careful anyway.”

”I will.” He gets a kiss for his answer.

”Imma be your get away driver, if needed.”

”With screeching tires and all?” Brock jokes to lighten the mood.

”Of course. Real gangsta style.” Jose nods his head up and down. This time it’s Brock who initiates the kiss. It’s like he’s suddenly addicted and can’t go without touching or kissing Jose for longer than a minute or two.

”Hey you two, knock it off! I’m paying ya to fix my AC not to give me a live sex show in the middle of my dance studio.” Jason is back with his coffee and busts them.

”We not doing anything!”

”Jo, that would be more believable if you didn’t still have ya hands under his shirt and down the back of his pants.”

Jose pouts as he’ still sitting in his lap, Brock and Jason are laughing, and for the moment everything is right in Brock’s world and he can forget for a second what he has to do later today.

TBC

[mychemicalficrecs]

Frank/Gerard – Cute and Fluffy

publicity stunts by Trojie, 6k, Teen And Up Audiences. The record company thinks a few plausibly-deniable rumours about Gerard and Frank dating would be good PR, but of course, they're not contractually obligated to sleep together or anything. Ahahah.

Frank the crankiest elf by Gorgeous Nerd (gorgeousnerd), 2k, Explicit. There were two things Frank hated: Christmas, and disappointing his mom. Considering his mom's last name had been Claus ever since she remarried, it was a bit of a fucking problem.

Crackle by MistressKat, 1k, Teen And Up Audiences. "What the fuck, Gee?" Frank asks. "Are you actively trying to drown yourself?"

The Kind They'd Like to Flaunt by elfiepike, 1k, General Audiences. When Frank first meets Gee, officially, it's because Ray saw Frank from across the room and put him into a headlock to get him over to his booth.

A Latte and a Cookie by mistresscurvy, 3k, Explicit. The first half a dozen or so times that Gerard stops by the Starbucks closest to SVA, he's so desperate to get the caffeine into his system he doesn't even notice the guy behind the counter. Nor does he pay much attention to the fact that his cup seems to magically refill itself a couple of times while he's hunched over one of the tables and drawing steadily, his headphones on. He's busy, okay — his winter project is due in less than six weeks, and he is screwed. Royally, completely and without question. The cookies, though. The cookies he notices. He just doesn't know what the fuck they mean.

Subterfuge of Tiny Proportions by J (jaywright), 1k, Explicit. It usually takes Gerard hours to wind down from a show.

Fuck the Snow (Repeat as Necessary) by mistresscurvy, 6k, Explicit. "Remind me why we came to New Jersey in January to practice rather than staying in L.A. where it's warm and not, you know, snowing," Ray says, staring out the front door at the white flakes coming down.

Hold This Heart and Tie It Tight by dapatty, samanthahirr, 5k, Teen And Up Audiences. Frank hasn't been tied up in months, and it's driving him crazy. So he attends a meeting of the local rope-bondage interest group, hoping to meet someone to play with or at least get a quick fix. Lucky for him, the group organizer knows exactly what Frank needs--and how to give it to him.

Twenty Percent Down by brooklinegirl, 7k, Explicit. For no_tags 2012: "We're rock stars," Frank says firmly. "We're not moving back to live in our parents' basements." (Prompt #54 Frank/Gerard - House-hunting)

Nerd Perfect by shiningartifact, 10k, Explicit. In which Frank and Gerard watch a lot of movies and have a lot of orgasms. (A long-awaited day off on tour.)

Veins Are Red, Veins Are Blue by dear_monday, 8k, Explicit. There's a little button up at the top of the page, marked "gallery", and Gerard clicks on it. It presents him with a handful of different names, presumably the artists in residence, and he skims down the list until he spots it: Frank Iero (horror/gore, traditional American designs). Iero, Gerard thinks, rolling the name around his head like a rosary bead in his palm. Of course the fucker is Italian, because the world is cruel and Gerard's life is hard. With a deep, tortured sigh, he clicks on Frank's name. In which Frank is a tattoo artist and Gerard is a fearsome and terrifying undead creature of the night. Sort of.

Pleathermouth Vegan Cafe by jedusaur, 6k, Mature and Teens And Up Audiences. Pleathermouth Vegan Cafe, says the sign in front of the next place on Gerard's job-seeking list, and he decides that it may be prudent to finish his cheeseburger before entering.

Camp it Up by rivers_bend, 4k, Teen And Up Audiences. The one where Frank doesn't want to go to music camp, Gerard's an art counselor, and teenage libidos find marshmallows pornographic.

Five Times Gerard Pays For It and One Time He Doesn't by RubyTuesday5681, 23k, Explicit. This story is a cliché rentboy fic wherein Gerard (the customer) falls for Frank (the service-provider) and can’t figure out how to go from paying-for-sex to ‘dating’ or if that’s even possible. Added to the mix are Gerard’s perpetually low self-esteem, Frank’s neuroses, and both boys’ epic communication-fails. Will these two ever manage to get out of their own way long enough to see that they’re meant for each other? With a little bit of help from a meddling younger brother, they just might.

Like a Secret in Your Throat by Gorgeous Nerd (gorgeousnerd), 3k, Explicit. There was a time for cuddling. It was not when Frank was trying to have hot sex with his vampire boyfriend.

Hey Mr. DJ by shoemaster, 6k, Mature. Frank is a late night DJ, Gerard is an avid listener.

For The Night by silentdescant, 5k, Explicit. "I'll do anything, within reason. As long as you pay me for it."

The Bigger Picture by dear_monday, 1k, General Audiences. For a man with a mind so sharp he keeps cutting himself on it, Gerard Way does an excellent impression of a particularly vapid goldfish. A silly little ficlet starring Gerard as the detective and Frank as his beleaguered assistant.

Blueprints For Building Better Boys by dear_monday, Frank/Gerard, Frank/Ray/Mikey, 7k, Explicit. "Eight years ago," Amanda begins, "Dr. Monae and myself began work on the ArchAndroid project. By the time they were ready, we'd designed and tested everything, right down to the cybernetics and the synthetic organs. Two months ago, we switched them on for the first time." Frank, Gerard, Ray, and Mikey are the ArchAndroids. Frank's got a faulty personality circuit, Gerard's primary memory chip is kind of temperamental, there's a bug somewhere in Mikey's speech protocol, and Ray's anger response lags like a motherfucker. They're also the world's most potty-mouthed robots, although with any luck there won't be any occasion for the world's press to find out about that. Written for Bandom Reverse Big Bang @ livejournal.

Witch Verse by kyOMG, 3k, Mature and Explicit. Gerard really, really, really hated cats. Yeah, yeah, he knows—He’s a witch. Cats, witches… they are supposed to like each other, right? Well, Gerard really doesn’t like them. Like, at all. They were whiny and boring and rude. If they could talk they’d probably tell Gerard that he stunk and that he was the worst witch they had ever seen. So what if he didn’t like to shower and his spells usually turned his hair (or Mikey’s) green?

A New Design For X and Y by DeadFreddie, 6k, Explicit. Frank Iero is the frontman in a successful band called Leathermouth, and Gerard Way is a comic writer working for DC. When they meet at one of Frank's shows, their mutual respect for the other's work becomes something a lot more personal. Oh and Frank's a trans guy and Gerard's nonbinary because I'm Trans And I Make The Rules.

Love Every Six Weeks by happilyappled, 22k, Explicit and Teens And Up Audiences. Frank is a full-time accountant and Gerard is the frontman of an international band. They spend long amounts of time away from each other, when Gerard is on tour, but when they’re together, nothing can stop them. [AU, Fluff, Explicit Content]

[har-rison-s]

inconsolable

request: Roger and reader get in a car accident and the reader goes through the front windshield and dies and roger is inconsolable.

A/N: This is so sad. Haha, I'm sorry. Please don't cry, loves. Happy times. Anyways, hope this meets your standarts. I've been sitting and writing this since 5pm today and it's now 10pm. This also made me very sad. Happy (sorta) reading!

warnings (this one needs these): car accident, injuries, swearing, sad themes, bad writing and possible spelling and grammar errors (haven't proof-read).

main masterlist

borhap masterlist

roger masterlist

It was a drunk driver. Someone who didn't care about himself nor about others. And happened to be on the road on the exact time you both were. Just a coincidence that led to the worst possible consequence. And then there was an argument. 

About what? Roger tried to hard to remember for the longest time, and then he finally got it. He forgot your birthday. And you didn't tell him at first because you thought he'll do that cliché thing of forgetting and then there's a surprise party at home or the studio. But there was no such thing. And after realising he's forgot, Roger got his foot cut and you both had to drive to the pharmacy for some essentials.

Then you started talking, and the talking turned into throwing insults and eventually even shouting. You both were saying nonsense, Roger more so than you because you were hurt and had already said what you wanted to. Roger was agitated because of his foot and your bad mood and your coming onto him and accusing him of not loving you. 

So he called you clingy, needy and attention-seeking. Oh, you think those are the worst? No, he also called you annoying and self-obsessed. And you both knew those words were the farthest from the truth than any other. But Roger couldn't help it. He was angry and called faulty, and he wasn't having any of it. 

When you both looked into each other's eyes after he had shouted that he never loved you, that damned driving drunk crashed his car into yours from the back left side. The scenery completely changed and everything seemed to have gone in slow motion. 

Your wide eyes were shut now, your hands gripping the steering wheel. But your body was pushed forwards, over the wheel and through the window. Roger didn't have to react, he was thrown to the side. He tried to grip onto anything with his hands, but nothing came close to touch. He only remembers seeing the glass shattering as you went through it. 

When he opened his eyes again, Roger's head was in the grass and he was half laying in the grass, half still in the car. After he had stood up, he realised he was pushed against the door and it opened as a result, and he ended up falling out of the car halfway. His neck was hurting now and he groaned as he slowly got up on his knees and then his feet. The process was slow and painful, but he didn't think about that. He only thought about you and finding you, seeing you, checking if you're alright.

You were oh so very far from that. You were laying face down on the pavement, Roger could see blood around your head and body even in the dark, your arms folded next to you. It looked like you had broken your leg, or even more...

Roger staggered over to you and lifted you up in his lap. Your eyes were open, and through his blood and tears in the eyes, he believed you were conscious. But you weren't moving. Maybe it was the shock that made him believe you were here with him still.

He rocked you both back and forth, slowly and softly, in robotic motions. He felt a pain in his left elbow and shoulder, but he wasn't feeling it fully. “Hey, you're okay,” Roger said to you. He didn't know what else to say, all other words having fled his mind, “you're okay, you're alright. We're fine.” His voice turned squeaky at the end, and more tears came. He's crying, and he can't control it. 

Soon, Roger heard sirens coming your and his way, but he stayed where he was. Holding you, crying, and murmuring the same sentences over and over. He lost all track of reality and you when they took him away from you and placed him on the stretcher. He tried not to leave your figure with his eyes, but he couldn't. Roger was passing out and they were taking you away to where he couldn't see anymore. 

He woke up and didn't know where he was, what time it was. He'd lost all track of it between waking up several times and passing out again. Tests and questions and systems and blood-taking and bandages and redressing and... Tiring things, no wonder he slept through most of it all. 

Roger glanced around him, looking for a clock or a watch or anything that might tell him what time it was. He was in the hospital, a strange set of... his clothes on him. He didn't remember wearing them earlier. There's also a serious bandage on his left arm, going from his shoulder to the middle of his forearm. He hasn't seen that before, as well. 

There are no more wires or needles on him, and Roger sighs appreciatively. There's a glass on the bed-side table, and yearns for it, reaching over. Once he drinks the liquid, he feels a bit better. Then he feels his stomach tighten and groans, realising he's hungry, as well.

Roger finds a clock on the wall opposite him and it tells him that it's half past five in the evening. He sighs.

Roger waits for someone to come in and while he does, he also tries to remember what happened. The last decent thing he remembers is holding you in his arms, crying and mumbling in your deaf ears. You didn't hear him anymore. You didn't hear anything. But he didn't know that. And for a while, it's better for him not to know. And now he wonders where you are, how you're doing. You're probably in a hospital bed, sleeping, drugged and wired up.

A nurse comes in, dressed in white, her hair brown. She has similar features to yours, and Roger almost mistakes her for you at first. “H-Hi.” He says in a quiet voice, and then clears his throat.

The nurse gives him a polite smile and grips her clipboard in her hands. “Good afternoon, Mr Taylor.” She says. “How are you feeling?”

“Hungry.” He says at first. “Nothing hurts, if you're wonderin' about that.” 

“Good to hear that. Your arm, your head, your back—none of them hurt?” She asks and Roger nods. “Alright. Now, please tell me what's your relationship with Y/N Y/L/N. You both were brought in together and seemed to be carrying each other's blood on your clothes.”

“Sh-she's my girlfriend, um...” Roger gulps and looks down, his eyes frantic, “my-my girlfriend, yes.” He looks back at the nurse with hopeful eyes, hoping she'll tell him anything about where you are and what's your condition.

“Does she have any family?” She asks and Roger nods.

“Her mum and sister.” He responds. The nurse nods and writes something down on her clipboard papers. Roger watches her do so with anxious eyes. “Can-can you tell me about her? Where is she? Is she alright? Can I see her?” He can't contain his curiosity and anxiety anymore, he has to know something. They have to tell him what's happening, it'd be purely heartless to keep him in the dark from any news.

The nurse looks down and folds her arms behind her back. Roger watches her anxiously, fiddling with his hands on the edge of the hospital blanket. The nurse walks a few steps closer to Roger's bed, but doesn't reach it. Only a few steps closer. Roger gulps.

“She was brought in without a pulse, without a heartbeat. She wasn't breathing.” She tells Roger. “I am so sorry, Mr Taylor.”

Roger can see the sincerity and hurt in her own face, but he doesn't understand what she's said at first. “Wh-what do you mean 'sorry'? Is she not here?”

“We couldn't regain any life in her body. I truly am sorry, Mr Taylor. There was nothing we could do, unfortunately.” She explains to him further and Roger's own heartbeat and breathing stop for a second.

“She's... She's...” 

Those were the last words Roger said before he started screaming and shouting and throwing everything around. He was uncontrollable, and the nurse was scared of him. He was shouting profanities, threats, denying words. He was crying and screaming his voice out. The nurse ran out, rushing her coworkers to get into his room and fix him a sedative.

Due to a drunken situation or simply a stupid decision, Roger Taylor's closest to-call person's number belongs to Brian May. The secretary sighs and dials the number on the phone and waits for the man to answer the phone. Once he does, she speaks without hesitation.

“Hello, is this Brian May?”

“Yes, who's calling?” 

“This is Saint John's hospital calling you. You're written as Roger Taylor's first contact person.”

“Oh, dear, am I really?” Brian sighs and shakes his head. “Alright, then, um—what's happened?”

“Mr Taylor's in the hospital, recently sedated due to an anger breakout and he's soon going to wake up. We think a familiar face might bring some peace to him.”

“Well, what's the—alright, I'll come and find out if you won't tell me now. Goodbye, then.”

“We'll be waiting for you, Mr May.” The secretary says and ends the call. She puts the telephone down and fills out a form that is to be signed by Mr May when he arrives.

He came quicker than she would have thought, seeing the familiar lanky frame and head of curls of the rockstar walking down the hallway ten minutes after their call. She smiles when he reaches the her table. 

“Hello.” Brian says to her, and she nods.

“Please sign these forms.” She says and gives the papers to him. Brian huffs and sighs quietly to himself, while also humming a tune, giving the hospital papers his signature and check marks. He gives them back to the secretary, a tight-lipped almost smile on his face as he looks at her almost shyly. “Thank you. Mr Taylor's in the 322nd room, first door on your right when you turn the corner. He's awake.” She shows him where he has to go and Brian nods.

“Thank you.” He says and walks away, dragging his long thin stick-like legs behind him. Brian knocks before opening the door and entering Roger's room. His friend is laying on the bed, looking at the window. This night is gloomy for London, practically the usual look. “Hey, Rog,” Brian speaks to get his friend's attention.

Roger turns his head to Brian slowly with raised eyebrows and his face changes into slight surprise when he sees his friend. “What are you doing here?” He asks and Brian chuckles. He closes the door behind him and walks over to the bed. Brian sits down next to his friend and Roger shimmies a little so Brian would be more comfortable.

“The hospital called me.” Brian responds. “Apparently, I'm your number one contact person in your file.” He says and smiles. Something similar to a smile appears on Roger's lips, as well, but it's gone before it lasted. Brian noticed, though. He saw the glimpse of hope. “How are you doing? They told me you were sedated after an... anger burst-out?” Brian furrows his eyebrows a bit, looking at Roger in question. His eyelids only drop a little lower and he looks at the window again.

Brian waits for Roger to speak, and he doesn't, for a while. “Someone crashed into us.” Roger says quietly. “Sh-she fell through the window. The front windshield.” He tells Brian and he tenses a little, feeling sorrow for Roger and you. “And she...” Roger gulps down his tears, but his sadness and anger can be heard in his shaky, squealed voice. “She didn't survive, Brian.” Roger shakes his head violently, still not looking at Brian. 

“Rog...” Brian says ever so softly. As softly as a feather falling against a glass window. 

“They couldn't bring her back. They couldn't restart her heart, they couldn't power her lungs, they couldn't—” Roger stops himself and looks around. “FUCK! They could have done fuck all, but they did nothing and stood by while my girl was still revivable! PISSPOTS!” Roger shouts and Brian brings his hand to Roger's, trying to do anything to calm his friend down. Roger cries, but wipes his tears at the same time with the back of his hands. “It's all my fault, it's all my fault. It's all my fault, Brian.” He repeats over and over, crying heavily. 

“Don't say that, Rog, that's not true—”

“It is!” Roger exclaims, looking at Brian finally. “It is thoroughly my fault from start to finish and now she's DEAD!” He screams and Brian brings his lips together, hoping no doctors will come by and sedate his friend again. Roger's tears keep falling and he sobs, looking at the boring window again. He calms his own breathing, but Brian can see the tears coming down still. “We were arguing. Because I forgot her birthday, you know—”

“Yes, I was there last night.” Brian nods and Roger looks at him.

“And then I got my stupid foot cut and we had to get bandages.” Roger tells Brian. “And then we started talking, shouting, insulting each other. And then some cunt's car—”

“Roger!” Brian scolds him for the horrible word. For all they know, it could have been an accident, a sick or mental person driving. They're bound to know the truth only in a day or two.

“—crashed into ours and she—” Roger stops himself, sniffling and wiping his face. “And I held her, I held her to me. I thought her arm was broken, and I thought she was conscious, but I didn't even notice that she wasn't moving.” Roger looks back at Brian and more tears start falling, like rain now, down his cheeks. “She died in a second, Brian. A second! A fucking—” Roger stops again and looks away, trying to get his tears out by blinking. “Could have prevented it all. Could have been with her now.” Roger starts crying again, more heavier than previously and it breaks Brian's heart break to see his best friend like this. He's never seen Roger so visibly broken, in such a state of despair. 

Brian sits closer to Roger and puts his arms around the small frame of the drummer, pulling his best friend against his chest. He feels Roger's bandaged arm against him and puts a hand on his hair. Brian lets Roger cry all he needs, and neither of them care how it'd look if someone walked in. Roger needs comfort and Brian's now here to give him just that and more.

Roger whines about how he lied to you, how he hurt you, how he forgot your birthday, how he said such horrible things to you. Brian listens to it all while holding Roger like a little child. Brian knew how much you and Roger mean to each other, and now that you're gone... it brings a few tears to his eyes, as well. You were a sunshine, a person full of love and life and support and just... everything good. Brian noticed how happy you made Roger and how he always wanted to be by your side. What broke Brian was that Roger mentioned something about proposing to you soon. Roger was so happy about it, excited. Excited for you both and the future you could have had together. 

“Please don't blame this on yourself, Rog,” Brian says softly when Roger's sobs have grown quieter, “weighing yourself down in this situation is the worst you can do.” He tells him. “She wouldn't want this.” He then says, quietly, careful of how Roger might react to those words. Nothing changes in his demeanor, and Brian is a bit relieved. “I'll keep you company here. I can call Freddie and John—”

“Please,” Roger pleads softly, “no one else.” He says. Brian nods and pats Roger's back. He lets go of Roger, and the blonde drummer falls into the soft hospital bed again. A shaky sigh leaves his lips. 

“Do you want something to eat?” Brian asks and Roger nods, looking at his best friend. “I hear they have killer eggs here.” He says, smiling sheepishly. Roger only looks at Brian, not replying anything. Brian understands it well, not asking anything more of his grieving best friend. He needs time.

Permanent taglist:

@v0idbella @inlovewithmiddleagedcelebs @works-of-fanfiction @destiel-stucky4ever-loki-queen @stfxlou @ur-gunna-h8-ths @one-taylor-one-vision@empressdreams @betweenloveandfire @but-legendsneverdie@deardeacy @fvckyeahbenhardy @thewinchesterchronicles

[sarasapen]

And So The Sky Shall Weep (Pt.2)

White Roses and Scarlet Letters:

Part 1  Part 3

“We all need to talk.” Bruce moves to the grandfather clock, adjusting the time on it. The door swings open, and he goes in, beckoning for you to follow. Bruce stops in front of the Batcomputer, his face hard.

“You may want to sit down,” Bruce gestures to you, Barbara and Dick. Barbara complies, and Dick leans against the table. You do the same, crossing your arms. What could possibly be so shocking that Bruce wants you to sit down?

Bruce turns on the computer screen, and you hear Dick swear beside you. Barbara buries her head in her hand, letting out a choked ‘Oh my god’. Tim and Damian stop poking each other and pause. You seem to be the only one that’s got their shit together, but by the way Bruce is looking at you, you feel yourself unravelling and quick.

Because on the screen, bold and bright as day, the dna samples of Jason Todd and the Red Hood were a 100% match. That could only mean one thing.

“He’s alive?” Dick croaks, eyes shining with unshed tears. Bruce gave Dick a brisk nod as he placed a hand on Barbara’s shoulder.

“This concerns me how?” Damian drawls, earning a well deserved punch from Tim. Damian of course, retaliates, but Bruce ignores them. His eyes are trained on you, obviously concerned at how you’ve just frozen up.

“He’s dead.” You say, voice too loud and too far away.

“He’s alive-“ Bruce starts gently, but you cut him off.

“No!” You don’t realise you’re shouting until you’re throat burns painfully. That doesn’t seem to deter you though.“He’s dead! I saw his body! He can’t- he’s dead.”

You don’t want to believe Bruce, don’t want to believe the test. “It’s faulty,” you say.

“I sent it to seven different labs, all of them came back with the same report,” Bruce soothes.  You’re trembling, and Bruce reaches out to touch you. You push him away, walking backwards.

“I- I need to think.”

You sprint out of the Batcave, pushing past Alfred and out the door, getting on your bike and driving past the gate faster than you thought was possible. There was a strange sort of numbness that overwhelmed you, and you knew it was only a matter of time before the dam that held your feelings back broke. And you’re pretty sure you didn’t want to be around others when that happened.

You were unlocking the door of your apartment without properly registering it, your body moving on its own to put on your suit and grab your escrima sticks. Next thing you know, you’re on the roof of your building. Your eyes scan the skyline of Gotham, and you inhale deeply, letting the cool night air surround you. In. Out. In. Out. In-The rumble of clouds overhead breaks your focus, and you suddenly find yourself running.

You don’t know what you’re running from - or towards - but you just kept running. You leaped over the gaps in the buildings, hopping over ledges and power lines. Tears begin to blur your vision, but you don’t stop running. You regret that decision as soon as you trip over a plank of wood, flying forward. Luckily, or unluckily, the building had a ledge, which meant that instead of falling down 20 stories, your stomach collided with the ledge.

Hot tears fell from your eyes, and you didn’t bother trying to hold them back. You gripped the edge of the ledge tightly, your chest heaving as you choked on a sob. Lightning cracked nearby, and rain followed a millisecond later.

Five years. Five goddamned years. You mourned him for five years, you felt all that pain, all that guilt, and he was alive? You knew you were screaming when you felt your throat burn.

Screaming didn’t alleviate the weight on your chest, so you lifted your fist and brought it down on the concrete. The pain was shooting up your arm, but that didn’t stop you from hitting the ledge again. You felt like a five-year-old throwing a tantrum, frustrated and angry and sad, and having no clue on how to handle the situation. You screamed again, shoving the ledge and hitting it as if it could solve the problem.

Black gloves hands encircled you, gripping your wrists tightly and preventing you from hitting out. You thrashed in the hold, kicking out uselessly.

“You’ll hurt yourself!” Bruce’s voice came through. He hadn’t switched on his voice modulator.

“I don’t care!” You punctuated each word with a shove, but you slumped into his chest, closing your eyes. You’re sobs died down as Bruce held you, and you let the rain lull you to sleep.

-----

Part 3

[carmintros]

@gushq​     /     ❛   ｡   ✩   ﾟ my eyes are probably playing tricks on me again, but is that really  alberto rosende? oh, wait, it’s just  cristian gustavo “gus” rodríguez. yes, that  twenty-six  year old  electronic engineering technician, who i am pretty sure is a  local. according to the talk of the town, he is incredibly  finicky & uninhibited, yet undeniably  conscientious & innovative. that is precisely why  perfectly soldered joints on a circuit board, button-down shirts with rolled up sleeves, late night lan parties with the boys, laminated datasheets scattered across a desk, a usb drive containing classic sci-fi & horror movies, & dark circles under tired eyes  remind me of them so much, but then again you know what they say about  virgos, we’ll see how that one turns out !   penned by maia  /  ast & she / her

introduction post .

ok so homeboy here has had it pretty good his entire life. his dad works relentlessly as a police sergeant and his mom had worked as a prestigious software engineer; one of the most sought out in california, and later, a software specialist for the same police station his dad works. they were neither in the poorhouse or in a mansion; they just lived humbly and comfortably. because of his mom’s vast computer knowledge, though, gus was privileged (and slightly spoiled) when it came to all the new technology, mostly video games. he started off playing at the tender age of eight with his very first gameboy and pokemon yellow as his first game, and he’s been playing through the generations of video games (both console and computer) ever since. it arguably could be considered when his interest in electronics was first sparked.

as he grew older and curiouser, gus would actually take electronics found in their home apart, investigating all the small pieces inside, and then put them back together; it was like building a puzzle. most of the time the electronics he took apart would still work after putting them back together, but other times they wouldn’t work quite as well as they did before he took them apart, and they later became projects for him to fix, once he got a better understanding of the parts inside and how they worked. youtube videos taught him the basics of what he knows now when it comes to soldering, and he was soon able to fix anything with faulty wiring, from a solar garden light to a hairdryer.

in high school, gus was definitely one of the nerdier students and this, of course, made him a target, though his outrageous sense of humour and rumbustious personality saved him somewhat from getting relentlessly bullied like most of the meek and feeble kids had to suffer through. while he wasn’t the most popular, he wasn’t a complete loser either, and managed to find make friends in the unlikeliest ways / places. anytime anyone needed a phone repaired and didn’t want to pay a small fortune to get it done, they went to gus. he made it his own little side business, fixing phones and other small electronics for his fellow classmates for a reduced fee, but not low enough that it wouldn’t be worth his while.

after graduating high school, he went to college and took a two year program to become an electronic engineering technician. while his studies were most important to him, gus broke free of all other responsibilities and social standards, and partied his ass off whenever the opportunity presented itself. he made countless connections and memories that he wouldn’t trade for the world. with everything he was able to experience, the good and bad, those two years were probably two of the best years of his life. now, gus has been working for well over five years and thoroughly enjoys what he does, but he’s been considering going to university in order to drop the technician title and become a full-fledged electronic engineer.

wanted connections .  

1.  homeboy needs a more athletic / jock-type friend. somebody who would have been more likely to use him as a human punching bag if they’d attended high school together. very unlikely pals, basically polar opposites of each other, but they met at the local gym once gus started getting serious about his physique / working out and they’ve been pretty good friends ever since. possibly also tries to get gus laid because they believe he has no game …. which he doesn’t lmao

2.  a fellow electronics nerd, coding buddy, hacker-partner in crime. someone he can fully nerd-out with who actually understands him / reciprocates his excitement with their own. possibly is also someone he studied the same program with in college?? and they went through all the hardships together bc that would be cute. most likely also has lan parties with this person, maybe even enter gaming tournaments / competitions together and are the ultimate team / dominate online multiplayer games.

3.  to add onto that best nerd bud connection: a couple other pals to make up a squad of four? classic brothers from other mothers; joke together, roast each other, game together, go out to bars occasionally, have wild adventures & make good as heck memories / stories to tell everyone else, be there for each other whenever they go through hard times & whenever they achieve great things. i imagine their personalities differing but also complimenting each other. possibly could have gone to the same high school and/or college together and remained friends?? just a Good wholesome connection.