#nikola's afternoon thoughts

[splendiferous-bitch]

OH MY GOD HO MY FOD I GOT FLOOR TICKETS FOR HOZIER IM GONNA DIE

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Academia - Turmoil

Masterlist

Pairing: Aged up Damian Wayne x f reader

Tags: academic setting, rivals to lovers, friends with benefits, angst

Trigger warning: The reader is attacked, tied up, and given Scarecrow's fear toxin, thoughts of dead loved ones, blood - Damian is vengeful and goes after her attackers.

For the past couple of weeks, you'd been trying to explore your new relationship with Nikolas. He was everything a boyfriend should be - kind, considerate, fun to be around. You'd gone on the typical dates: dinner and a movie, a casual walk through the city, lazy afternoons hanging out in your dorm. It was easy. But there was one problem.

Every time you studied his face for too long, the same sad realization crept in. You weren't as attracted to him as you were... to Damian. Fine. You admit it.

Nick was the sweet, sunshine type. The kind of guy who would make you laugh and take care of you. But Damian... Damian was bad. Brooding. Sharp edges and quiet intensity. The kind of man who made your pulse race and your mind wander to places. You could picture Nikolas holding your hand, but with Damian, you saw someone who would take control. There was a thrill in the idea of letting go, handing the reins over to him, not having to think for once.

For days, you'd been teetering between the smart choice - Nick - and the one that made your heart beat faster, the one you couldn’t stop thinking about, no matter how much you tried. Especially at night.

It didn't help that the three of you came across each other on campus often. There were many times when Nick came to meet you after class and walk you to your research lab, and you would catch Damian glaring at the two of you, his arms cross and his eyes narrowed. He didn't even have the decency to look ashamed when you caught him looking - ironically, you were the one who redirected their gaze to the floor in shame. It was all backward.

Meanwhile, Damian had buried himself in his routine. His training, his classes, his late-night patrols, and of course, his fellow elites; heiresses, models, and children of Gotham's 1%, who he was always captured with at night clubs, as your roommate helpfully showed you on her twitter reccomended.

In reality, Damian tried anything to drown out the thoughts of you in his head, the memory of you looking up at him with your soft, vulnerable eyes. The moment he rejected you replayed more times than he wanted to admit.

He didn’t need distractions right now. Not while you were off with Nikolas Hill, laughing at his jokes and letting him kiss you, hold you, touch you whenever he pleased. Damian scoffed at the idea. Hill was a decent guy, sure, but nowhere near your match. But if you wanted to waste your time, that was your right.

He was in the middle of his evening workout when his earpiece beeped, drawing him from his train of thought.

"Robin?" Oracle’s voice filtered through.

"Hm?" he responded, still lost in his own head as he lowered down and pushed up with one hand.

"Are you on campus right now?"

Damian stilled, suddenly alert. "No. Why?"

"There’s been an attack."

His blood ran cold. "Where?"

"Maddison Hall."

His mind flashed to you. Maddison Hall was where you spent most of your time working with Professor Kace and the other researchers. Before he even had time to process the rest of her words, Damian was on his feet, every nerve alight with tension.

"I’m on it," he said, already moving.

"Wait, Robin, I don’t have all the -"

Her voice cut off as Damian turned off his earpiece, barely taking time to grab his gear before he was out the door.

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The sight before him nearly made Damian drop his father’s "no-kill" rule on the spot.

You lay crumpled on the cold floor of the lab, hands bound behind your back, duct tape muffling any scream for help you tried to make. You were shaking as if trapped in some nightmare. Your eyes, which he was used to always being filled with curiosity about the world, were wide with terror, streaks of black mascara ran down your cheeks. It wasn’t just the sight of you restrained that twisted his insides but also the fear he saw on your face. A look he never wanted to see again.

His instincts screamed to go to you, to comfort you, to pull you into his arms and shield you from whatever horrors had been forced into your mind. But a darker instinct also conflicted within him the instinct to find whoever did this and end them along with their entire bloodline.

He freed your wrists and removed the tape from your mouth, but his gaze was already scanning the room, searching for the coward who had done this to you.

"Oracle," he growled into his comm, barely containing his fury. "Do you have any visual on the perp?"

"Damn it! Nothing yet. They must have disguised themselves as a student," Oracle’s frustrated voice crackled in his ear. "Damian, is she -"

"Yes," Damian cut her off, pulling a syringe from his belt. "It’s Fear Toxin."

You whimpered, still lost in the hellscape the toxin had built in your mind. Damian injected the antidote into your shoulder. Watching you writhe in pain made his blood freeze. He lifted you into his arms as gently as he could and moved toward the door, but the growing crowd of students outside only irritated him further.

"Move," he barked, his voice low and dangerous. "She needs a hospital."

Halfway to the nearest emergency center, he changed his mind. He wasn’t taking you somewhere filled with people who would ask questions, who could poke and prod at your fragile state. Instead, he shot a grappling hook to a nearby rooftop, pulling both of you up and away from the crowd.

As your vision started to clear, you groaned, your body trembling in his hold. "R-Robin…" Your voice cracked, laced with panic. "My parents... they z please, you have to save them."

"It’s not real," he said softly, kneeling and holding you as close to him as he dared, providing a warmth that helped ground you. "The toxin made you see things that weren’t real. Is that what you saw? Your parents?"

You nodded, tears filling your eyes once again. "I saw them die. Please, you have to - " You fumbled with your pockets, desperately trying to find your phone, anything that could help you reach them.

Damian’s hand gently wrapped around your wrist, stopping you. His white lenses stared down at you, and for a moment, you wished you could see his eyes, see the real person beneath the mask. "Your parents are fine."

His voice, deep and calm. There was something about the way he spoke - so sure, so steady - that made you believe him.

"It’s not real?" you asked, voice trembling, trying to keep yourself from breaking down completely.

He nodded. "Call them. You’ll see."

Your hands shook as you fumbled with your phone, which was now cracked. You dialed the number, waiting for what seemed like forever for each each ring. Then she finally picked up.

"Honey, thank God!" Your mom’s voice came through. "Are you okay? I’ve been watching the news - what’s going on over there?"

Your throat tightened, but you forced yourself to sound normal. "I’m fine, Mom. I’m just… in my room. Is everyone okay?"

"We’re fine, sweetie. Just worried sick about you."

“I’ll visit tomorrow,” you blurted out, tears stinging your eyes. "I’ll come home tomorrow."

Your mom’s voice lifted in relief. "That’s great! Be safe, honey."

After hanging up, your body gave out. Your knees buckled, and a sob you’d been holding in finally broke free. You fell onto the ground, unable to stop the tears. He caught you, lowering both of you to the ground until you were sitting in his lap.

In his hold, you didn’t feel the fear you expected from someone like him. You’d heard stories, read articles about this Robin. How he wasn’t like the others - scarier, more brutal, more dangerous. But here, in his arms, you felt safe.

The tears wouldn’t stop. Your mind kept replaying those awful images, the sound of your parents’ screams still echoing in your ears.

"I thought I lost them," you sobbed, shaking uncontrollably.

Damian’s heart clenched. He had seen people cry before - mostly because he caused them to. But seeing you like this, broken and terrified, was something else entirely.

Damian’s first instinct was to say, "I thought I lost you," but he bit back the words, instead holding you close, his gloved hands cupping your cheeks gently. "I'm so sorry," he whispered hoarsely, barely audible over the city's noise. "I'm sorry."

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You were not the same after that night. Trauma clung to you with every thought. What happened in that lab left you scarred, destroying your sense of safety.

The last time Damian had seen you, he was still in his Robin suit. You’d been shaking, eyes glassy with the aftereffects of the fear toxin, but you insisted on going home to your dorm. Damian’s instincts screamed at him to take you somewhere safe, to keep you in his apartment where he could protect you, but he complied with your needs.

And as much as it killed him, he had to let you go.

What stung worse was the sight that awaited him at your dorm. Nikolas was already there, pacing anxiously by the entrance, his hair still wet from his swim meet. The moment he saw you, he rushed over, pulling you into his arms as though you were fragile enough to break. Damian’s fists clenched as he watched Nikolas cradle your face in his hands, checking you over with concern.

The sight of Nick’s resting possessively staying on the small of your back as he led you up the stairs twisted something deep inside Damian, but he pushed it down. He had no right to feel that way - not after he had pushed you away first.

You didn’t show up to physics the next day. Or the day after. A week passed, and still nothing.

He wanted to reach out - every part of him screamed to check on you - but that wasn't his job anymore.

Then, one day, his phone buzzed.

Nikolas Hill: Damian, hey. It's Nick Hill.

Nikolas Hill:Just thought you should know, y/n broke up with me. Got me flowers and chocolates. It was... pretty sweet, actually 😅. It's the nicest way I've ever been dumped for sure.

Nikolas Hill: Anyway, I’ve seen the way you look at her, man. You should go for it. Really.

Nikolas Hill: And you might wanna check on her... she dropped out of Kace's research project. Not answering anyone’s calls or messages. We’re worried.

Damian stared at the message, his stomach tightening. You dropped the project? And now you weren’t talking to anyone?

He didn’t wait. The next day, he was at your parents’ house, knocking on the door. A middle-aged woman half his size answered, her eyes widening as she took took him in - her gaze flickering between him and the sleek, black Camaro parked outside.

"Hello?" She said.

"Hello, ma'am. My name is Damian... Wayne." He flashed her the best smile he could summon, as his gaze flickered between her and the home behind her, searching for you.

Her eyes widened further. "Wayne, as in...?"

"Yes, Bruce Wayne’s son."

"Oh my!" She nodded, her eyes still studying him. "How can I help you?"

"I’m a friend of y/n’s." Damian explained. "She hasn’t been to class for the past couple of weeks, and I wanted to check on her. Is she alright?"

Her surprise grew, her lips parting slightly. "She never told us she had... a friend like you." There was a slight note of disbelief, as if the idea of you being close to someone like Damian Wayne didn’t quite compute.

Damian raised a brow. Why wouldn’t you tell them about him? Were you... ashamed?

Before he could respond, she stepped aside, inviting him in. "Please, come in. I was just finishing up dinner. Would you like to join us?"

"Is your daughter home?" Damian asked, trying to keep his voice steady, but there was an urgency behind his words he couldn’t hide.

Your mother nodded, turning around and calling you downstairs. "Honey, you have a visitor!"

Just then, you appeared at the top of the small staircase, and the breath caught in his throat. You were a ghost of the person he remembered. Dark circles rimmed your eyes, your cheeks hollow and your body frail. The t-shirt you were in drowned you as it slipped off your shoulder, revealing how think your collarbone had become. Have you been skipping your meals?

Your usual spark of curiosity was replaced with something far darker—sadness.

You froze when you saw him before forcing yourself to recover and quickly make your way down the stairs, grateful for the 5 minute shower you decided to take just before you were called down. Damian may see you in a bad state, but at least hell be smelling 'coconut sunshine' bodywash. As you came to stand in front of him, barefoot, and without your high heels, you were even shorter and had to look up at a less comfortable angle. Your hand came up to rub the opposite arm, Damian's heart ached when he saw the bruises circling your wrists from the rope that was used to restrain you.

"Hi." You spoke softly.

"Hi," he replied, voice dripping with what seemed like disappointment. "You haven’t been to class. I wanted to check on you."

"I’m alright," you lied, your voice weak and shaky. "Just... spending some time with my family."

Damian tool a quick sweep over the room, the small, homey space that felt miles apart from the opulence of Wayne Manor or his apartment. It was cozy, filled with the scent of warm food, a stark contrast to the sterile, minimalist world he was used to.

But that wasn’t what was on his mind. He couldn’t stop staring at you, trying to reconcile the person in front of him with the one he knew.

“Do you want to go out? Get some air?" Damian asked.

"No," you answered quickly, then paused. "I mean... you can stay for dinner, if you want."

Damian tucked his hands into his pockets, fighting the growing frustration inside him. He didn’t want dinner. He wanted answers. “I was hoping for some privacy.”

You eyed him warily, a look of distrust flashing across your face, and it hit him like an insult. You didn’t trust him anymore? You ungrateful brat. If you only knew who was under the mask that day you were rescued. It enraged him, though he didn’t show it.

“Nikolas told me you broke up with him,” Damian said, lowering his voice. “And dropped Kace’s project.”

You shrugged weakly, your shirt dropping lower down your shoulder, which you didnt notice as you avoided his gaze. "Yeah. I did."

Damian’s arms itched to touch your bare skin. He took in a deep breath. "You’re also about to lose your scholarship," he pressed, his tone more insistent now.

Your brow furrowed. "How do you know that?"

“It’s a research scholarship. They won’t keep paying you if you’re not involved in research.”

There was a flicker in your eyes. Either anger, maybe annoyance. But it wasn’t indifference. And that’s all Damian needed. You were still there under this facade. He wasn’t going to leave. Not without you.

"Damian, thank you for visiting. But right nows not a good time." Before you could open the front door for him, his hand shot out, stopping it in its tracks.

“That’s not very nice,” he said, his voice low and firm. “Your mother invited me for dinner, and I accepted.”

"Damian - " you started, but your mother’s voice interrupted.

"That’s wonderful!" she exclaimed, oblivious to the tension. "I was just finishing up the potatoes."

The scent of dinner filled the air, but Damian couldn’t focus on anything except you. You were trying to slip away, and he wasn’t going to let that happen.

After dinner, when your parents went to bed, Damian asked you again to walk with him. You shook your head, your voice barely above a whisper when you spoke.

“I’ve tried,” you confessed. “I can’t get past the door. Every time I do, I... panic. I shut down."

The vulnerability in your voice was enough to shatter whatever resolve he had left. You were hurting, deeply, and it killed him to see it.

He stepped closer, his voice restrained. “I'll help you.”

But you just shook your head, pulling away. "I'm tired."

“It’s late,” Damian agreed, his voice soft but commanding. “You should go to sleep.” He nodded toward the stairs.

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening. "Thats not what I meant. I dont what to sleep."

But your body betrayed you, and before you could say anything else, you yawned. A small, defeated sound that you tried to hide but failed miserably.

Damian grinned, raising a brow as he looked down at you. “You sure about that?”

Your shoulders slumped in defeat. "I... I can't go to sleep," you admitted quietly, the words trembling on your lips. "The nightmare comes back when I do."

Damian sighed, his expression softening, though the fire in his eyes never wavered. He understood - he had his own problem with nightmares, demons that lurked in the dark corners of his mind. “Try again now,” he said gently, leading you to your livingroom couch. “I’ll wake you up if it happens.”

You shook your head, the fear bubbling up inside you. But his unyielding gaze stopped you.

“Y/n,” he said quietly, his voice laced with something raw, “you need to rest. I can’t stand seeing you this tired anymore.”

His words hung in the air, the concern behind them tightening something in your chest. You hesitated, searching his face for reassurance. "You'll wake me up?"

“Yes.”

You sighed, knowing you couldn’t argue with him. Not when his eyes held so much insistence. Slowly, you lay down on the couch, your head sinking into the cushion. The moment your eyes closed, sleep washed over you.

But it didn’t last long.

Within minutes, you were tossing and turning, whimpering softly as the nightmares clawed their way back into your mind. Damian watched as you struggled even in your sleep. Then, gently, he reached for you, pulling you into his lap with ease. You felt so small in his arms as your back came to rest against his chest, his lips brushing your hair.

“Hey,” he whispered softly, “Youre okay, your alright.”

Your eyes fluttered open, wide and panicked as you gasped for breath. You looked around frantically before your gaze landed on Damian. “Damian, my parents - they’re - ”

“Upstairs, sleeping,” he said, his voice firm. “They’re okay.”

You blinked, your eyes darting toward the stairs as if you needed the reassurance for yourself. You made to get up to go check on them, but his grip stopped you, pulling you back against him.

“Yes.” Damian spoke quietly but with intent. “I’m right here. Nothing will happen to either of you."

You nodded slowly, the tension draining from your body as you rested your head against him. The warmth of his presence was enough to lull you back into sleep, though it didn’t last. The nightmare came back, and so did Damian’s voice, pulling you out of it every time.

It happened a few more times throughout the night. Each time, you would whimper, trapped in your dreams, and he would wake you, then hold you until you fell asleep again. Halfway through the night you began clinging to him, your arms snaking around him to hold him closer, sensing the safety he provided even in your sleep.

Not minding one bit, he could still see the toll it was taking on you, the way you couldn’t even get through one night without being haunted by what Scarecrow had done. It made his blood boil. It fueled a dark, vengeful fire that burned hotter with each of your nightmares.

He swore to himself, as he watched you sleep restlessly, that he would make Scarecrow pay for this - for the pain, the fear, and the nightmares that took you from him.

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On his third night of patroll, Robin cornered the man in the Scarecrow mask, ripping it from his face with such force the strap snapped. The man trembled, backing into the alley wall, his eyes wide in fear.

"I'm not him! Please!" The man’s hands shot up in surrender, sweat pouring down his face as he eyed the rest of his team, who were knocked unconscious. He hoped.

"Where is he?" Damian’s voice was low, dangerous. His fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white.

"I-I don’t know!" the man stammered. "I swear! A different one of us is made to wear that thing every night in case you show up!"

Robin’s jaw tightened. His eyes were cold and merciless. He didn't care if this man knew or not. He wanted an outlet, something to absorb the endless rage boiling in his chest. He sighed, cracking his knuckles slowly, deliberately, like a predator preparing for the kill. "Then you'll have to do."

The thug whimpered. "No, no, no-"

The Red Hood arrived on the rooftop, surveying the scene below. His eyes narrowed as he saw Robin beating the life out of the cowering henchman. The tension in his youngest brother's posture was unmistakable. Jason eyed the rest of the henchman team, laid out and bleeding in different spots on the ground.

"Uh, I’m gonna need backup here," Jason said into his comm.

"Why? Too much for you to handle?" came Dick’s teasing voice over the line.

"Nah, but someone’s gotta protect these poor bastards from Robin."

There was a pause. Then Bruce spoke up. "...on my way."

Damian couldn’t hear anything but the pounding in his skull, his vision narrowing to the terrified man in front of him.

"Robin!"

The first punch landed hard in the guy’s gut, causing him to double over, gasping for air. Then the fists came, rapid and unrelenting, from left to right. Each blow was calculated - not enough to kill, but enough to inflict the kind of pain that lingers, that leaves a mark deep under the skin.

The man’s blood splattered against the wall, his groans turning to pitiful whimpers as he weakly tried to shield himself. But Damian was relentless, his fury a tidal wave, drowning out any sense of restraint. This was for you. The helplessness he felt when he couldn’t save you, the guilt for letting you go, for not being there when you needed him most. Every punch was a punishment, a way to exorcize his own demons.

"Robin!"

By the time he stopped, the henchman was barely conscious, slumped against the wall, gasping for breath through cracked ribs and bloodied lips. Robin stood over him, panting, his chest heaving. His hands, covered in the man's blood, twitched. He wanted to keep going. Needed to keep going.

"FUCK!" Robin roared, the sound reverberating off the brick walls.

"ROBIN!" He was grabbed by a pair of strong arms, slamming him against the wall. "Jesus, what the hell’s wrong with you?" Jason's voice chastised him behind his mask.

"Back off!" Damian shoved Jason hard, his eyes wild, untamed.

"How about fuck no?" Jason growled, pressing his forearm against Damian’s throat, forcing him to stay still. Over the years, Damian grew taller than Tim, matching Dick in height, but Jason still had maybe an inch on him. The elder stuggled to hold his brother back. "I need you to calm the hell down!"

Before Damian could retaliate, Batman arrived, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "What the hell happened?"

Jason shot a look over his shoulder. "Your kid happened."

Batman’s eyes fell on the battered man, then on Damian, still shaking with fury, fists clenched, ready for more. "Damian," Bruce said quietly.

"Its what he deserves." Damian’s voice was low, venomous, each word dripping with barely contained rage. "He hurt her. He broke her."

Batman’s expression shifted as he understood. You. The girl who Damian was bringing home from school. The one who’d been ripped apart by what happened to her.

"And how is killing this nobody helping her?" Bruce asked, his voice steady but firm.

Damian’s lips curled into a cruel smile. "It's not." His eyes glinted with a dark amusement as he stared into his father’s unflinching gaze. "But it sure as hell makes me feel better."

Bruce sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He knew this wasn’t about justice. This was about catharsis. Damian was unraveling, and if Bruce didn’t stop it now, there’d be no pulling him back. "You’re off patrol," Batman ordered, stepping toward him.

Damian sneered, shoving him back. "Like hell."

"It’s not up for debate."

Damian’s glare intensified. "I’m not stopping until he’s dead. I’ll bury him - "

"Robin." Batman’s voice was calm, controlled. "You’re going home."

Before Damian could react, he felt a sudden sharp pinch on the side of his neck. He staggered, his vision blurring as his hand flew to the dart embedded in his skin. "Wha - " His legs gave out beneath him, and darkness closed in before he could reach for the antidote.

Batman caught him as he slumped forward, unconscious. "Get him home," Bruce said to Jason, his voice heavy with regret. "Ill take care of this mess."

Jason nodded. "You know he's not gonna forgive you for that."

Bruce glanced at Damian’s unconscious form. "I know."

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Damian woke up groggy, his vision blurry as he blinked against the harsh lights of the Batcave. His arms were strapped down to something cold and unyielding. "Damn it. Let me go!" His voice was a snarl, filled with rage and frustration.

"Negative," Bruce's calm, gravelly voice responded. He approached from the shadows, no longer in his suit but in a sweater and jeans, the cowl replaced by the face of a father. "You killed someone tonight. Did you know that?"

Damian gritted his teeth, pulling against his restraints in fury. "Who gives a shit?" He thrashed, his breath coming in sharp gasps. "Let me go, now! She's alone - "

"She's fine," Bruce interrupted firmly. "Oracle is monitoring."

Before Damian could spit back another response, the Batcave’s voice system activated with Oracle’s voice. "I have visual on her right now. She's at home, watching TV with her family. Safe."

Damian's chest heaved, but the confirmation did little to ease the burning tension in his veins. He didn’t care that she was safe. He needed to be there with you. Protect you.

"How long are you going to keep me like this?" Damian glared at Bruce, eyes flashing with anger.

"You're too worked up to be set free," Bruce said, his tone unwavering. "I don't want you making decisions you’ll inevitably regret."

"I won't regret jack shit!" Damian roared. "Scarecrow's overdue for a visit to hell!"

"'Overdue for a visit to hell,'" Jason's voice echoed from somewhere in the batcave, but Damian couldn't see him. "Goddamn, this kid's more dramatic than you, bats." Jasons chuckle echoed alongside his footsteps as he entered the batcave.

"Thank you, Jason." Bruce said sarcastically.

"Youre welcome."

"Damian," Bruce's tone was deadly serious. "I don't think you heard me clearly. You are a murderer."

Damian's jaw clenched before he spat, "Bruce, do you even understand what 'League of Assassins' means? I've been a murderer. Since I was ten." His voice cracked slightly, the anger mingling with something deeper - something broken.

The tired lines of his fathers face grew more pronounced. "And when I took you in, I made both you and myself a promise to end that cycle." His voice was softer now, but no less firm. He stepped closer, his presence towering over Damian, not as Batman, but as a father. "You were a child, Damian. You didn’t know any better. But you do now. You don’t get to decide the outcome of human lives. When you do, you become the very thing we fight against. The very thing she fears."

Those words landed hard, and Damian stopped struggling.

The very thing she fears.

He pictured your face, pale with terror, your haunted eyes. Damian swallowed hard, his throat tightening. "Fuck."

He hated it. Hated that the old man was right. His whole life had been about violence, about using pain to solve problems.

He glanced up at Bruce, anger creeping out of his voice. "I don't know what to do."

Bruce’s expression softened, the hard edge of Batman fading away as his fatherly concern surfaced. He sighed, his own guilt simmering beneath the surface. "Be there for her. That will be enough."

Damian stared up at him, resisting the urge to punch him for that unhelpful advicr. He didn’t know how to be that. How to be anything but the weapon he was trained to be.

"I don’t... want her to fear me," Damian whispered, his voice barely audible. At least he didn't think he did.

Bruce reached out, his hand resting on Damian’s shoulder, a rare gesture of affection. "You can't solve this one as Robin. Nor the League’s heir. Just Damian."

For a moment, Damian closed his eyes, letting his father’s words sink in. His breath slowed, and the fury that had been burning inside of him all night began to fade into something else - epiphany. He had to fix you himself. He had no qualm playing therapist, whether you wanted him to or not.

When he opened his eyes again, he met Bruce’s gaze, still defiant but quieter now. "I know what I have to do."

"You do," Bruce said with a firm nod.

Damian had a new goal in his mind now, bringing you back. His jaw was tight, but his breathing was steady now. "Untie me," he said quietly. "I’m calm."

Bruce hesitated for a moment, and then he slowly unstrapped his son’s hands. Damian sat up, rubbing his wrists, though his mind was far away - thinking of you and the promises he had made to himself.

"Not so fast." Bruce spoke up. "You're still in trouble. Tomorrow, you will bring in... 10 juvenile delinquents into the station -" Bruce knew Damian especially hated dealing with kids - he had to hold back with them - "to make up for the shithead you killed tonight. And you'll do two hundred push-ups now."

Damian scoffed at the easy challenge. "Fine,"

"Jason, sit on his back."

"What?!" Damian spat out in protest as Jason rolled his head back in laughter.

The next morning, Damian barely made his way to your doorstep, limping over sore limbs. He had his work cut out for him with you, and he would start with getting you alone.

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Record of Ragnarok x Harry Potter reader. (I do hope that you know the Harry Potter series) the reader can be from the ages 11-17 and could do complex magic spells and can do all with their wand.

Got stumped at this point but I generally wanted to know how the gods and humans; especially Odin would react to this.

It could happen during the tournament or not.

-Y/N Potter, survivor of the dark lord Voldemort, a mere 11 years old, had died at the end of your first year of Hogwarts, taking your DADA teacher, Professor Quirrell and Voldemort with you, ridding the world of evil.

-While you were bummed when you arrived in Valhalla, as you had enjoyed going to Hogwarts and making friends, this new world you found yourself in was so vast and had lots of stuff to explore!

-Many of the gods were furious to learn that you lost your life fighting the battles of adults, even if you technically won because you rid the world of evil, and the human warriors were quick to adopt you as their own.

-You were so small, and after you told them how you were treated by your aunt, uncle, and dumpty cousin, it was no wonder why, and your massive adoptive family were very quick to start spoiling you and showering you with love, praise, and all the snacks you could ever want to eat!

-After learning a bit more about Hogwarts, Odin and Loki became your teachers on how to use magic, teaching you Latin and the basics of magic.

-This was totally unlike how you were being taught at Hogwarts! You were learning spells and skills that most didn’t learn until they were an adult- after they graduated!! And you were still only eleven!

-That was one downside, as you died at your prime, so you wouldn’t grow anymore after this, so you were forever stuck as a child. Some things about it wasn’t bad, as you got out of trouble a lot and many loved to hug you like you were a little kid, but there were times you wanted to be treated like an adult, which some thought was cute.

-There were a few, like Thor, Lu Bu, and Nikola, who treated you like an adult, Thor and Lu Bu because they treated you like everyone else when they were teaching you things, and Nikola did it because he could see your drive for learning and was quick to figure out that you were way smarter than you seemed.

-You enjoyed spending time with Jack the most, mainly because the two of you would discuss books you’ve both read over afternoon tea, something you weren’t allowed to participate in while you had been alive until you reached Hogwarts.

-You did find, however, much to Loki’s amusement, that you quite enjoyed being underestimated by those who didn’t know you, thinking you were just some twiggy, dorky looking kid, only for you to easily hand their asses to them without moving a single inch!

-You were definitely a force to be reckoned with, not only with your own skills and powers, but with your massive family now in your corner, backing you up.

[iammiracl3]

Power of 369 Manifestation Method

What is 369 manifestation method?

The 369 manifestation method is embedded in the belief that the universe operates on the law of attraction, a principle suggesting that positive or negative thoughts bring positive or negative experiences into a person's life and their relationship. 

The system itself revolves around the mystical figures 3, 6, and 9. These important figures are frequently cited as the key to unleashing the universe's secrets.

The 369 manifestation is related with the world known scientist Nikola Tesla. Tesla was prominent for his groundbreaking contributions to electricity and magnetism, and Tesla was also known for his attractiveness with figures and their mystical significance. The 369 manifestation method draws alleviation from Tesla’s belief in the profound influence of these figures, particularly the significance of 3, 6, and 9. As Tesla famously said, “ If you only knew the nobility of the 3, 6, and 9, also you would have the key to the universe. ” This system is grounded on the belief that these specific figures( 3, 6, and 9) hold a unique and important significance in the universe and can be exercised to manifest one’s solicitations and intentions.

The 369 method of manifestation is a mix of manifestation and numerology. It requires you to repeat your manifestation three times in the morning, six times in the Noon, and nine times at night for utmost effective results.

The power of number 369 

Before knowing how to practice this method let's find out why these Tesla’s 369 numbers are Known to be so powerful. The number 3 is related to connection and creativity, acts as a reminder of the universe's support in your manifestation journey. The number 6 shows inner strength and the ability to overcome difficulties while the number 9 signifies accomplishment and the achievement of goals. These numbers all together create a formula believed to increase and strengthen your manifesting abilities.

How to practice this method -

For practicing this Tesla 369 method you will need a manifestation journal for writing your goals and a pen .

Before writing your wishes you have to relax your mind and let go of any other thought that is coming to your brain. You need to focus on what you want and put yourself in a comfortable position before starting to write .

You shouldn't be thinking anything else when you're manifesting something.

The most important requirement to make your dreams come to reality is Repetition, Repetition and repetition .Consistent Practice makes things perfect, but the 369 method is pretty easy to DIY. Here's how:

1. Pick anything you want in your life (for example, "I am rich" or "I have a caring partner" or" I am having my dream job" or “I am having a good relationship”.

2. Now you have to write your wish 3 times in the morning.

3. Then, write it again six times in the afternoon.

4.At last you have to write your desires 9 times before going to bed in the night.

For example if you want to grow in your career to achieve wealth you have to visualise and write that "I am happily accepting a new job opportunity that fulfils my passion and increases my wealth."

You need to be consistent and practice this for atleast 45 days to see any changes and you can continue practicing it until your manifestation comes into reality.

Things you have to remember while practicing 369 manifestation method.

1.Set your intention clearly-

You need to find out what you want to attract in your life. You need to be specific about it because this is the most fundamental thing.

2.Stay consistent with your manifestation journey- 

Write your desires everyday as a ritual and try not to miss, but if by any chance you miss it start again where you have left keep you flow steady .

3.Visualise your desires coming true-

While writing just feel that you have already achieved your desires and feel it genuinely. Use your senses and feel it. The more real it feels the more substantial it becomes in reality.

4.Connect yourself emotionally with your desires-

When you feel joy, gratitude love and feelings about relationship while thinking your desires it creates a magnetic effect that directly connects with the universe and when you write your affirmation and feel it in your veins it creates an emotional conviction that attracts your desires with your each heartbeat and turns it into reality.

After doing everything correctly you will see the changes significantly but you have to remain open and observant towards the opportunities and keep working on what you want .

[tinknevertalks]

For the ask game: 🤩 for Abby, ❓, 📖 for Waves, please. :D

Eeee, thanks for this lovely! XD (I need to get better at answering these straight away.)

🤩a WIP snippet about or with dialogue from ________ [name of a character]. If you don’t have one for that character, choose someone else! - Right, this is tangentially with Abby, but it's Nikola and Will talking. (Yeah, it's the (Abby/Will) + Helen (and maybe Nikola, I still haven't decided) fic.)

“Well, William, you don't have to be a genius to figure out that Helen has plans for you,” Nikola muttered to Will. Will tried ignoring him, reading the file in front of him, but Abby had joined their boss and Will knew that smile. It was her I'm so happy to see you but please can we go somewhere private and fool around smile, one he thought was just for him. Since when did she smile at Magnus like that? And since when did Magnus smile back like that, a secret in her eyes and a laugh on her lips? Why at Abby? Sighing, he asked, “What do you mean?” Nikola smirked. “It seems to me like Helen has taken your Agent Corrigan under her wing.” Leaning forward, like he was giving Will super secret information, he added, “Helen doesn't like when her fledglings aren't treated with the respect they deserve.” Will shook his head. “Wha--” “When it comes to matters of the heart, Helen stays out of the way. When it comes to matters more base - sex, Scoot - Helen takes matters in hand.” Nikola grinned, leaning back. “Like I said, Helen has plans for you.”

❓ any WIP snippet you want!

Ooooooh. Because I really need to get back on this, have a section from In The Nice Part of Town. 😁

Weeks passed. Helen tried not to change her behaviour, to keep a respectable distance from Nikola, but she couldn't help delighting in being drawn to him. What did that Taylor Swift song say? His magnetic field being a little too strong? Something like that. Like a iron filing she was constantly edging closer to him. And really, when it meant having a cuddle at night on the sofa, and him stroking her shoulder absentmindedly, who was she to argue with physics? Kissing his cheek on her way to work was just being friendly. And if he happened to kiss her cheek as he handed her a cuppa when she got home, well that was just the reciprocal nature of their friendship. Because they're just friends. Doing friend things. As friends. Helen knew, on a scale of one to hopelessly besotted, exactly where she was.

📖 a published snippet from _________ [published work of theirs you haven't had read yet, but are curious about]

Waves? You wanted a bit of Waves? Eeeeeeee! 🥰🥰🥰 Okies, right. Ack. This is part of the way in, but just know Helen and Nikola haven't spoken here in like four/five years. Enjoy!

Saturday in the mall was not how Nikola imagined spending his afternoon, but he needed new shoes. If he went earlier in the day, he wouldn't have to deal with too many people, and he wouldn't get another headache. That was the plan. He didn't get there until after lunch. Some kids were running around, yelling and squeaking. Parents were standing around chatting, ignoring their children behaving like the monsters they were, and Nikola's foot was cold. He had known for a while his shoes needed replacing but there it was, a tiny hole. Sighing, his defences up, he strode in. Helen's morning had been busy. Between chores, playing and Ashley singing Old McDonald, the house had been cleaned, clothes in the machine, homework done and lunch eaten. Now it was time for the most important part of the day. Shoe shopping. The shop was busy, and children were running around like headless chickens. “Alright, we need some sneakers for you, Henry, and some boots for you, Will. No running around, please.” “Ok!” the boys chorused, before dashing to the kids’ section. Ashley was pulling on Helen's hand, wanting to follow them. Smiling indulgently, glad her mental barriers were firmly in place, they walked briskly after them, Ashley stomping ahead. “Ooooff!” Someone had walked into her and caught her elbow before she fell over. “I'm sorry, I-- Helen?” The world slowed down. Flashes of memories filled his mind – his laugh, her smile, that kiss – as her bright blue eyes drank him in. “Nikola?” she breathed, her lips already forming a grin. Her heart was clattering against her ribcage. “Wh-- what are you doing here?” Who was that squeaking in her voice? He held up his other hand, face and mind wondrously blank to her. “Shoes.”

[lets-manifest]

How to Use the 369 Manifestation Method Effectively

The 369 manifestation method, popularized by the teachings of Nikola Tesla, is a powerful technique designed to help individuals manifest their desires through focused intention and repetition. This method involves writing down affirmations in a specific pattern, helping to align your thoughts and emotions with your goals. Here’s a step-by-step guide on how to use the 369 manifestation method effectively.

Step 1: Define Your Desire

Before you begin the 369 method, take some time to clarify what you truly want to manifest in your life. Be specific about your goals and desires, whether it’s related to love, career, health, or personal growth. Write your desire in the present tense as if it has already been achieved. For example, “I am financially abundant” or “I am in a loving relationship.”

Step 2: Create Your Affirmation

Once you have a clear desire, craft a positive affirmation that reflects your goal. Make sure it’s concise, powerful, and resonates with you. An effective affirmation could be, “I attract prosperity and abundance effortlessly.”

Step 3: Write Your Affirmation

Now comes the core part of the 369 method. Take a notebook or a piece of paper and write your affirmation three times in the morning, six times in the afternoon, and nine times in the evening.

Morning (3 times): Write your affirmation as soon as you wake up. This sets a positive tone for your day and helps you align your thoughts with your desires.

Afternoon (6 times): Midday, take a moment to pause and write your affirmation six times. This serves as a reminder to stay focused on your goals amidst the day’s distractions.

Evening (9 times): Before going to bed, write your affirmation nine times. This reinforces your intention and allows your subconscious mind to absorb the message while you sleep.

Step 4: Visualize Your Desire

As you write your affirmation, take a few moments to visualize your desire as if it’s already happening. Picture yourself living your dream life and feel the emotions associated with that reality—joy, gratitude, excitement. The more vividly you can imagine this, the more powerful your manifestation will be.

Step 5: Trust the Process

After you’ve completed your writing and visualization, it’s essential to trust the process. Let go of any doubts or fears about your ability to manifest your desires. Believe that the universe is working in your favor and that your goals will come to fruition at the right time.

Step 6: Take Inspired Action

While the 369 method is a powerful tool, it’s crucial to pair it with action. Be open to opportunities that come your way and take steps toward your goals. For instance, if you’re manifesting a new job, update your resume, network, or apply for positions that align with your desires.

Conclusion

The 369 manifestation method is a simple yet effective practice that can help you align your thoughts, emotions, and actions with your desires. By following these steps and maintaining a positive mindset, you can harness the power of this technique to manifest the life you truly desire. Remember, the key is consistency, belief, and taking action toward your goals.

[nonservataest]

The Last Binukot (A short story)

            The Philippines has an ancient tradition that mystifies even the younger generation. It seemed unreal and mysterious, like a story straight out of a fantasy book. Princesses only exist in books, or is that true? This is the story of how Adolfo met Annga, the last Binukot.

            Adolfo Nikolas is often found in the library. If he is not in the town library, then he is probably inside the school library, even on weekends. He came from a wealthy family. He is the only successor to their family’s hotels. However, Adolfo’s heart isn’t set on being a businessman. He wants to be an anthropologist. He enjoys reading history books. This is the reason why the school guard often needed to remind him of the closing time. He can focus on reading a thick history book for a long time. He is very interested in the cultures of different native tribes in the Philippines.

            One night, he dreamed of a shining book under one of the shelves of their town library. When he woke up, he immediately shrugged it off and thought of it as a meaningless dream. The next night, he once again dreamed of a shining book, floating in what seemed like an endless river. The third night, he dreamed of the same book, but this time it was under his bed, shining like gold. Still, Adolfo thought that it was only the result of his obsession with books. He thinks of books before he sleeps; that must have been the reason for his dreams. The fourth night, he dreams of his pet cat angrily shoving him the shining book. He woke up, only to find his cat staring at him without even blinking. He shook the weird feeling off and went to school to attend his morning classes. While at school, he decided to tell his friends about this frequent dream.

            "Oh, Adolfo. That is because all you talk about is books, all you want to face is books, and all you think of is your history books," said one of his close friends.

            "Today, I won’t read a book. Let's see if something will change," he replied.

The night came, and Adolfo prepared to go to sleep early. He immediately dozed off and fell into a deep sleep. He dreams once again of a shining book. That night, it grew legs and arms, and it chased him until he fell into an endless pit. When he woke up, he was catching his breath like he had run a mile. On that day, he decided to go to the town library and look for the book that he had been dreaming of for five nights.

When he arrived, the library already had a few people in it. Determined to look for the book or anything that was similar to its gold cover and pages, he went and looked everywhere that he could find. After searching for hours, all he saw were regular books; none of those had a gold cover or gold pages. Tired, he sat on the floor and leaned on one of the shelves. He looked at his watch and found out that it was already 4 in the afternoon. He sighed and was about to grab any book that he could reach when his fingers felt something hard under the shelves. A memory flashed in his mind, and he remembered that in his first dream, the shining book was under a shelf. In that dream, all the other books are emitting a faint white light, but the book under the shelf shines like the afternoon sun. It was noticeable and blinding. He grabbed whatever was under the shelf and dusted it off. He smiled in delight when he saw that the book’s cover was gold. He examined it further and saw that the pages were almost brown, and some were torn due to its oldness. Even though the book is old, the words are still readable. He read the cover, and it said, "The Last Binukot."

Adolfo knows a lot about the practices and traditions of the native cultures in the Philippines. He knows what a Binukot is. It is a Visayan word that means "wrapped up," which simply describes their practice and tradition. A Binukot is considered a princess of the tribe who is highly respected and protected so that not even the sun shall see her skin or any strand of her hair. Legends say that a Binukot is the most beautiful maiden in the tribe. Some say that she is covered with cloth whenever she goes out because the sun might get jealous of her radiance, and her feet must never step on the soil because the earth might kiss her and never let go. The last recorded Binukot was dead a long time ago. Tribes have learned their lessons and they never once again made another maiden their Binukot. Adolfo wondered if the book was a documentary.

            He opened the book and was immediately welcomed by a blinding light. He covered his eyes, let go of the book, and fumbled a few steps back. It all happened too fast. He felt a pull, a splash, and everything went dark.

When he opened his eyes, he was welcomed by a fish swimming right in front of him. He took a deep breath but was only choked by a mouthful of water. His eyes widen, and he feels himself turning blue due to the lack of air. He swam upwards and felt relief when he saw that he was not yet deep into the water. He coughed and coughed until he could finally breathe. He gasped and inhaled deeply. When Adolfo finally regained himself, he looked around and realized that he was floating in what seemed like a river. There is an unfamiliar two-story nipa house nearby. He could hear a rooster crowing in the distance, someone cutting wood with an axe, a group of women laughing, and someone singing in a language he did not understand. He swam near the house and lay on the grass. He looked at the sky and saw many birds flying.

            Adolfo was taken aback. He doesn’t know what he is doing in there. He remembered opening the book. He also remembered the light that felt like pulling him. Just as Adolfo fell into a deep thought, a woman suddenly arrived. The woman shrieked at the sight of a man soaked in water, unmoving. He immediately rose and looked at the panicking owner of the voice.

"I’m sorry! I don’t know how I came here. Please don’t be mad!” Adolfo said, also panicking, thinking that the woman was mad because he trespassed on their home. The voice suddenly went silent.

"I thought you were dead!" The woman exclaimed. Another man arrived wearing only a cloth wrapped around his waist and a bandana. He is holding a bolo, almost ready to defend the woman.

            “Put it down, Bagani!” The man named Bagani put his bolo down and looked at Adolfo from head to toe. He points at his body.

            Adolfo looked down at his body and stared at his blue polo and black slacks. His rubber shoes are unrecognizable due to the dirt and grass that have been sticking to them. Aside from his unkept appearance, he doesn’t see anything wrong with what he is wearing. What he finds weird are the people in front of him. They are wearing bahag and malong, the traditional clothes that are worn by native Filipinos. What he finds weird isn’t their clothing, but he wonders what happened when he was unconscious to arrive in a tribe.

            "You’re from the city? What are you doing in here?" Bagani asked.

"I don’t know how I exactly came here. I just remember being inside the library," Adolfo replied.

            "You must be lost, then. Come here, let’s go inside. You might get sick if you don’t change immediately." The woman ushered him inside their home. When they entered the wooden gate, a rooster once again cawed. The voices of women laughing and singing became clearer and clearer. Adolfo looked around and noticed that the house looked majestic. He has never seen a bahay kubo up-close. His eyes went to the group of women and men. The men who are cutting wood are all wearing bahag, while the women are all wearing a blouse and a malong.

The woman ushering Adolfo spoke and said, "Bulan, please give our visitor some clothes. Help him change too." The little boy named Bulan diverted his attention from the old man cutting wood. His curious little eyes stared at Adolfo, who, by that time, was still roaming his eyes around the place.

            "Who is he, Inang Agwa?" When the little boy spoke, Adolfo looked at him and smiled.

"I am Adolfo, and you must be Bulan?" The little boy nodded.

            "Inang Agwa saw him on the lake." Bagani explained to the curious men and women. They all nodded in understanding, but then two of them approached and stared at Adolfo’s face.

The two of them shared a look and approached Inang Agwa.

"He looked like a Japanese. Don’t you agree, Donato?" The man named Donato nodded.

            "Should we really let him in, Inang Agwa? Himig is right. Even to me, he looks like a Japanese. If he is a spy and has already alerted his fellowmen, then we are already in danger!"

            Adolfo was shocked by their conversation. Why are they careful with the Japanese? Are there tourists nearby? Adolfo shook his head and said, "I am not Japanese. I am a Filipino, too. I came from the city, but I do not know how I arrived here. I also don’t know how to go back."

The woman, whom they are referring to as Inang Agwa, smiled and shook her head. She signaled Bulan to assist Adolfo inside their home. He immediately followed Bulan when he started walking. As they walk nearer and nearer to the door, Adolfo heard Inang Agwa speak.

"Donato, we must help everyone who is seeking help. Bathala is happy when we are kind, didn’t I teach that to you? The Binukot would also suggest that you do the same. Don’t you think so?"

Adolfo was given a bahag to wear and a cloth to wrap around his waist. Bulan also gave him a cloth for his upper body. The room that he changed into is spacious. There is only a curtain that separates the outside from the inside. There is also a basin made from hardened clay. When he finished changing, he debated whether to ask the child what had been bothering him. In the end, he walked beside the little boy and squatted beside him to match his height.

"Can you tell me what year it is now?" The little boy looked at him like he is saying something that is funny. He then diverted his eyes and stared at the wooden wall for a long time before putting his hand under his chin. The boy hummed before looking at Adolfo.

"It is year 1902, why?"

Adolfo quickly adjusted to their way of life. He often helps with their chores. He sometimes volunteers to harvest fruits or to cut wood. Days flew by fast, and without so much as a wink, a month has already passed. The people are kind; only Donato and Himig remained distant from him. He did not mind it and waited for them to adjust and open up. After all, Adolfo does not know when he will go back to the present, or if he will ever go back.

After a month of thinking about the reason why he time-traveled in the past, he realized that the book wanted to show him something. Until he realizes what it is, he can’t go back. After all, he learned to love the place and the tribe men’s way of living.

            "Adolfo, please help us carry the Binukot." Adolfo immediately went down from the tree and went to Bagani. Once a week, they carry the Binukot so she can visit her parents’ tombs. It is Adolfo’s weekly routine to wait by the lowest stair while the Binukot talk to her parents at the top. When Adolfo and Bagani went inside her room, she was already covered with a white cloth and was riding her hammock. None of her skin or hair is to be seen by any men, not until she becomes a Nabukot or a married Binukot. Adolfo is familiar with this practice. He has read it on history books.

Adolfo has no idea what the Binukot looks like. He has never heard of her voice. He was advised to stay away from her room, so he followed it out of respect for the tribe’s culture. However, he knows that he is the youngest daughter of the deceased Datu Dakila and his wife, Inang Biyaya. He has heard from hearsay that the Binukot sometimes sings and dances on special occasions and that her beauty could blind any man who sees her. Adolfo wishes to see her sing or dance. He wondered if the Binukot sang love songs.

One night, while Adolfo was taking his walk in a garden, he suddenly heard a voice chanting. The voice was so clear and melodious. The chant expressed many emotions. One time it was happy, and then there was agony. Adolfo got goosebumps all over his body. He has never heard such a wonderful voice in his life. His desire to know who the mysterious lady was, got the best of him. He went nearer and nearer to the river. There, he saw a maiden soaking her feet in the river. a maiden so beautiful, he could only stare in silence. This time, Adolfo, who loves words, thought that it would be a sin to only describe the maiden in the language he knows. He turned around and was about to walk away when he heard the voice address him.

            "Adolfo? What are you doing in here?"

            The woman knows him! He swallowed and braved himself to ask, "May I know who I am speaking to?" The maiden only stared at him. Adolfo remains rooted in his place. He stared back.

            "I am Annga. I am part of the tribe." The maiden replied.

            "This is my first time seeing you. How did you know me?"

This time, she averted her eyes and once again looked at her reflection in the river. There was silence, and Adolfo patiently waited.

            "I know you through my people’s words. I also know your voice. I know your face." Adolfo only stared at the maiden.

            "Have I met you before?" He asked.

            "Yes. Multiple times. I understand if you don’t remember me. Most people do not."

            Adolfo leaned on the tree. That night, they talked about the river, the stars, and the tribe’s history. He never attempted to go nearer; both of them are content with their distance.

One day, an Umalohokan, or the tribe’s crier, announced the marriage of the couple, Alon and Mahalina. Everybody rejoiced and prepared for a great feast. Adolfo was even roped into catching pigs in their wide backyard. Some prepared the dishes. Some sew the clothes for the couple. Some practiced their dances and chants. It was a lovely sight.

            On the day of the marriage, Adolfo was shocked when he was asked to carry the Binukot. He did not expect the Binukot to attend the marriage. Together with Bagani and other men of the tribe, they carried the Binukot in her hammock. not letting even, the tiniest ray of the sun to see her skin. Adolfo heard that the Binukot will sing and dance. He feels nothing but excitement.

  After the marriage ritual, everyone shared all the dishes they had prepared. There is delight in everyone’s face as they celebrate a union that was blessed by Bathala. After the feast, Adolfo’s most anticipated moment has finally arrived. It is now time for the Binukot’s performance. All of the people, dressed in their adorned attires, gathered and formed a big circle. All men, women, and children are present and are eager for the Binukot’s performance. 

The performance started with the roll of the gongs called kulintang, followed by the strumming of the kutiyapi, a stringed instrument. The sound is full of beats and chants from the older women of the tribe. A figure of a woman appeared from behind the curtains. Her face was covered with a dark veil. She wears an ankle-length skirt and a long-sleeved blouse; she wears a waistband and a headdress of Spanish coins. One can only see her fair ankle and long candle-like fingers. She danced like an eagle in the vast sky, free and light. Adolfo watched with amazement.

Afterwards, the Binukot rested. Adolfo and Bagani fixed her hammock.

"Will the Binukot sing today?" Adolfo asked Bagani.

"Yes, she will sing as she swings her hammock. It is to remember how our ancestors used to travel in a balangay back in the day. Isn’t today your first time witnessing it? Brace yourself because it will take hours to finish."

Adolfo braced himself as he was told.

The Binukot started her epic song. The voice was full of intensity and story. It was both calming and revolting. When Adolfo heard the Binukot’s song, he was taken aback. By then, he found out that Annga, the maiden he met that one faithful night, was none other than the treasured Binukot. Adolfo wanted to talk to her, but he wondered if he would ever have another chance to do so.

The two of them met again after Adolfo waited for seven nights in the place where they first met. When he saw that Binukot’s face was exposed and that her bare feet were stepping on the soil, he immediately went near her. Adolfo wasn’t sure on what to do. He can’t touch the Binukot; even looking at her guarantees death to whoever dares to do so. He kneeled in front of the Binukot and said his apology.

“Stand up, Adolfo. It is just me." She softly said. Her voice sounded so still.

"How can I do that? You should behead me. I have committed a crime." Adolfo said in a voice full of regret.

"Kneel if you must, but I need you to listen, Adolfo. I have held the title of Binukot since I was four. I was loved and protected by my people. My palms are soft because I never did anything more than weave. My feet are weak because they never let me walk on my own. They bathe me, comb my hair, and put food on my plate. One might say I have lived a perfect life, a life that every woman in my tribe is envious of.  But I do not want this." The Binukot stopped speaking for a while. Adolfo remained kneeling. His eyes were glued at her bare feet.

"When Datu Dakila and Inang Biyaya died at the hands of the Japanese right in front of me, I couldn’t do anything. It was the first time I realized my desire for freedom and power. Once, I secretly stepped my foot on the ground, and I have never felt connected with the earth. I loved how rough the earth felt on my feet. I then attempted to walk with a bare foot, and when I did, I tasted freedom. I never forgot that feeling, Adolfo. Every night, it haunts me in my sleep, begging me to reach it. Have you ever felt that way? Have you ever felt so suffocated when air is abundant? All of these, for marriage?" The Binukot laid her hands-on Adolfo’s shoulders. She helped him stand, and when they were finally looking into each other’s eyes, she smiled.

"I am more than the marriage they are trying to push into me, Adolfo. I am not as extraordinary as they think I am. What I want isn’t beauty and a spouse, what I need is strength so I can stand on my own two feet. I cannot do that when all I do was to sit and be protected. I cannot do that when I can’t even run for a long time because of my week feet. I need to be able to fight for myself. Do you understand me?" Adolfo nodded and stared into her eyes. It held the intensity of the most powerful storm. Like a bird finally realizing that there is life outside of its cage. Adolfo couldn’t help but be immersed in her magnificence.

            "Let me protect you, then," he said. “Until you now know how to fight. Let me be with you when you escape. Let me be with you each night you come here. Let me be the cane you hold on to as you grow your wings. Let me be your legs." Annga nodded. The moonlight reflected on her gold skin.

Their eyes locked, and both of them shared a meaningful smile. That night, they shared a connection neither of them could describe.

The next few days became much different for the both of them. Every night, they met in the same exact spot. They would talk beside each other for hours. Adolfo enjoys listening to her. He asks a lot of questions just to make her talk. He asks her about her dreams, and she asks him about the city. By then, both of them realized that they had feelings for each other. However, just as when Adolfo decided to confess his feelings, something unfortunate happened.

            "Go take the Binukot somewhere safe! The Japanese are coming!" He was shocked when, one night, as he was walking to the place where he and Annga usually met, he encountered a bloodied Donato. Panicking, he tried to offer help, but Donato refused.

            "The Binukot is our priority. Keep her safe! The Japanese are here to get her." Adolfo nodded. With a worried face, he ran and went to the place where they were supposed to meet. He ran as fast as he could, desperate to see Annga, safe and sound. When he heard the familiar sound of clicking coins and saw the familiar fair figure of a woman, he stopped in his tracks and took a deep breath. He sighed in relief. Annga stood there, looking in the distance with a terrified face. Adolfo followed her line of sight and was met with a large fire slowly engulfing the houses in the distance. His heart broke when he realized that one of the houses that are burning is the house of the newlyweds, Alon and Mahalina.

            "Annga!" He shouted. Annga looked at him, and when he saw him, a sob escaped out of her mouth. In the distance, the hooves of the horses and the sound of gunshots can be heard. People are screaming in agony and helplessness.

            "I am here, Annga!"

Adolfo ran to hug her and comfort her. Annga’s body weakened but she remained standing. Just as Annga opened her arms to welcome his embrace, a blinding flash of light engulfed him. Adolfo’s eye widened when he felt the familiar pull. He wiggled and tried to reach Annga, but the light pulled them apart. Annga, not knowing what was happening, reached for him. Desperate, he extends his arms as far as he can. Just as when he finally held her hand, a group of Japanese seized her and covered her face with a cloth. Adolfo cried as Annga screamed. There was a light, and everything went dark.

            When Adolfo woke up, he was once again in the library. Baffled, he stood up and immediately stumbled because of a headache. He clutched his head, and it took him time to stop the dizziness. He looked at his watch, and found out that it was five in the afternoon. When he regained his stability, he immediately noticed the open book on the floor. He picked it up and read the pages. He spent the next hour reading the whole book.

He was shocked when he found out that the book narrated the story of how a mysterious man met the rebellious Binukot of the Panay tribe. It is a story of how him and Angga’s love story ended before it even began. The story narrated his life in the year 1902, from the time he almost drowned on the river to his mysterious disappearance when the Binukot was captured. Unfortunately, the book ended without him knowing what happened after. He felt an ominous feeling boiling up. He stood there unmoving, trying to think of ways to find out what happened to Annga.

Adolfo is desperate to know what happened after he left. He doesn’t know whether to feel relief or sadness. A part of him is afraid to know what happened after he was forcedly transported into the present. He feels fear, agony, and yearning. He wants to go back and protect Annga because he loves her, and that’s what he promised her.

He stared at the book he was holding in disbelief. What magic does the book hold? And why did it choose him, of all people? He skimmed the pages once again to find any clues. He stopped when a piece of paper fell. It is an old news article from the Manila Bulletin. Right, he thought, the Manila Bulletin was founded in the year 1900. It was about this time that they started publishing newspapers.

Adolfo took his time reading the article. As he read, the light in his eyes gradually faded. He slumped on the shelves and took a deep, shaky breath. He gulped the scream that was threatening to go out. He clutched his chest and took another breath. He can almost feel hysteria binding his body, making him paralyzed with both fear and pain. He crumpled the piece of paper. He did not feel his tears flow on his cheeks, but he felt the rage boiling inside of him.

For the last time, he read the article.

"...a body…found on the chieftain’s home, laid on a hammock...along with a heap of dead bodies."

In the end, no matter how they promised themselves, Annga wasn’t able to protect her tribe and Adolfo wasn’t able to protect the last Binukot.

[mistressofthemanor]

masterofthemanor

Although Lucius had been the one to repeat her wording and refer to her time away from him as a vacation, he didn't realise just how wrong it sounded until she'd said it herself again. It wasn't a big deal and he quickly reminded himself of the original context in order to be less affected by it, however, something in the back of his mind wouldn't let him completely ignore the fact that the word itself had a positive meaning associated to it while his experience had been nothing of the sort, but a torment for a long while - which made him wonder whether she'd had the same experience as him, after all, she had been suffering because of him, so surely, it was a breath of fresh air to have been finally rid of his misery. Moreover, she'd gotten to know Nikolas sometime along the way, whom she invited into her life for a reason, and who possibly made her days better. He was curious, nevertheless, it didn't feel like the right time to ask questions about that, so instead of giving way to that, he gave her a bittersweet smile, relieved to hear her promise that and choosing to be happy for the present, even if he was momentarily reminded of their troubled past. "Let's try and make plans for us together from now on" He suggested softly, being completely literal this time, mainly to venture further away from the previous topic and partly to let her know that he was envisioning a future for them, which she rewarded with a tender kiss that completely took his mind off of the sauce. Muttering a heartfelt 'sorry' when she pointed out that he neglected his only task, he turned back to the pot and let her continue the process of cooking in peace, all while chatting away until their early dinner was ready. While she grated the cheese and served the food, he'd set the table for them, so by the time she'd appeared with the dishes, everything was ready and they could sit down at the small table in the informal dining-room. Upon taking his place, he listened to her monologue about the food in silence and by the time she finished, he couldn't help, but smile at how adorable she was. "Of course I am going to try what we have made!" He replied cheerfully, emphasizing the fact that they've worked on it together as it was something that not only warmed his heart, but made him feel useful as well. "Also, it's nice that you would be willing to change your recipe after receiving my feedback, but Cissa- *pauses for a second* I'm sure it'll be delicious, so don't worry" He stated with great confidence that stayed even after he'd taken the first bite. "...and it is" He commented briefly before reaching out towards her and placing his hand atop hers lovingly. "Pleasantly flavourful... and smooth *takes another bite and savours it for a long moment before swallowing it and making his final conclusion* It reminds of the pasta al Pomodoro we always used to have in Como... You know the one I couldn't have enough-" He trailed off as it suddenly dawned on him that she really had cooked for him that afternoon. "That's really sweet of you. Thank you" He finished his thought, beaming at her, then took her hand into his and brought it up to his face so he could plant a kiss on the back of it.

As she watched him while she talked, she realized he had a rather pained expression on his face. Even though he brought up their parting, she felt like she shouldn't have gone on about it. She wanted to explain herself and discuss it but he simply brushed away those desires when he mentioned that they should make plans together from now on. Nodding and saying not another word about it, she, too, dismissed their feelings that seemed to be wanting to come to the surface. However, they continued to cook together and make a meal that she felt they could be proud of. He seemed to be so excited to try it that it quickly brought back her enthusiasm and she beamed in delight. Her smile remained on her face as he began to compliment her on just how wonderful the food tasted. She tried her best not to grow emotional as he spoke but it was hard not to get teary-eyed. Her passion in life had definitely become cooking and the foods that she could use to create something wonderful. Nikolas had always thanked her for her efforts but he never went on about anything she had made. He wasn't a man who said much about things even if he liked them. When she poured her heart and soul into a dish she was always a bit disappointed when he didn't seem to be as thrilled as she was. She understood that he didn't share the same excitement or passion but it was still disappointing nonetheless. So to hear Lucius begin to compliment her food and say more about just how much he enjoyed it, she found it meant the world to her just to hear that. She had missed someone who supported her passions and encouraged her to do things she loved.

"Yes, I remember that pasta dish well. You begged to go there almost every night we were in Como," she chuckled softly at the fond memory. "I'm happy to make this for you any time you want, my darling." Narcissa allowed him to kiss the back of her hand and she brushed her fingertips across his cheeks after he had done so. She had been standing in anticipation of what he might think so now she felt relief and could sit in her usual seat at the table to join him. Sitting there next to him, she recalled the days when she moved to sit across from him and the days when she chose not to join him at the dining table at all. It was a strange memory and one she found herself not wanting to recall. It was all those bad memories that were now returning of those days where she wanted her husband back but he seemed so long gone by that point. Yet, here she was back at the table sitting next to him and enjoying a meal that they cooked together. She met his eyes and smiled softly as she continued to eat, trying not to settle within her thoughts. "I suppose I'll have to return to the market soon and get many more things for us to enjoy together."

Skeletons

[alsjeblieft-zeg]

031 of 2024

How productive are you lately, on a scale of 1-10?

Maybe 3. I'm still on vacation mode. Wait, maybe actually 5 because I'm half on half.

What's some bad personality trait(s) you have and wouldn't get rid of because without it/them you wouldn't be you, anymore?

Pride, although I'm not sure if it's a bad trait.

What's your favourite bruise colour? Do you have any bruises currently? What colours are they?

Favourite bruise colour lol. I have a lot of bruises, from black to yellow. My veins are weak.

Would you change your race/ethnic background, and if so to what?

Nah I wouldn't. What's the point anyway?

What's your current weight?

60 kg or so.

If you could change one thing about the world what would it be?

Erasing all the illnesses.

Most your weight has fluctuated in the shortest amount of time?

10 kg. I lost that much in two weeks when I was in coma.

If you have an ex-partner, have you ever talked to them after your breakup? What was it for? If you never had a partner, would you mind doing it?

Yeah, me and Nielsje are still close friends and we always will.

Who would you like to spend an afternoon with? (still alive person or dead person)

Nikola Tesla because he was a genius.

What can you make / create with your hands, no machines involved?

Wiring connectors for trains.

How many visible scars do you have?

A lot. I'm not going to count them.

What part of your body upsets you the most?

My brain. Neurological shit is not fun.

What simple pleasure makes you the happiest?

Spending time with cats. Petting them and listening to their purr.

Last thing that gave you anxiety?

My stupid neurological disorder manifesting itself in the bus. Thankfully there were 4 people to help me.

Have you thought you found love?

I definitely found love.

[gnattyplayssims]

1951 Pt2 - Don's Girl

Sofia absolutely loved being a mom and Ava was a perfect infant. Don wasn't the domestic type so he gave her her own trailer in Bedrock Strait. He never bothered her as long as he got her evenings at the club. He even provided a top-notch nanny.

Ava was a very wiggly baby so she had a hard time sleeping on her own. She often would only fall asleep to the sound of her mother's voice so Sofia would tell her fantastical stories about magic and princesses and worlds where all their dreams could come true.

Maybe it was because she was wiggly but Ava even liked tummy time. She liked working out her little arms and that it got her closer to those toys that were just out of her reach.

"There you go baby girl! Look at you, so big already! You'll be crawling in no time!"

Frequent sneezes and tummy time did not go well together. A violent sneeze shook little Ava's body and she bumped her face on the floor.

"Oh no Little Bird! Don't cry. You're okay. I guess we're done with tummy time for today." Sofia rolled Ava over, trying to soothe her.

The biggest thing Sofia struggled with was cooking. She had never had the opportunity to learn before. The orphanage had a cook and while her mother was a master at cooking, Anabelle had only taught her daughter a few things. Thankfully Ava didn't require fancy cooking to survive.

"Okay Little Bird, mommy has to go to work. Be good for Mrs Picket. Sleep all night so mommy doesn't miss a thing, I'll be home in a few hours."

Ava looked at her with those brown eyes that sometimes made her want to cry. She kissed her daughter and slipped into the darkness.

Ava always woke up with the sun so she was usually ready to start her day about the time Sofia was crawling home after a long night at Don's. She would try to sleep and shower before coming home but she didn't always have that option.

"You're worth it Little Bird."

One afternoon Sofia was resting with a book when a pleasant surprise showed up at her door. Nikolas had put together the pieces in Sofia's letters to track her down in Oasis Springs. He wasn't impressed. Her rich new boyfriend should be able to do better than a trailer.

"Nikolas, what are you doing here? How did you find me?"

"You didn't honestly think you could hide from me did you. You know I'm a Clever Sim."

"Well I'm happy to see you. I love Ava, but she's not the best company when it comes to talking about my day."

"You...could come home. It's almost Hannukah. I'm sure they'd love to see you"

"You wouldn't say that if you knew what dad said. I can take care of Ava on my own."

"With your pimps help"

"I wish you wouldn't call him that. It's not like that. I only woohoo him not just anyone"

"Gross! So do I get to meet Ava or keep standing on your porch."

Sofia brightened and led him in the trailer. "Hey Little Bird, this is Nikolas, my bestest friend in all the worlds."

"Hey Ava, wow...she...those eyes."

"I know, sometimes she makes this face and...it's hard."

Ava looked up at Nikolas with concern while Sofia tried to assure her. "Don't worry, Ava, I got you" Nikolas cooed craddling her close.

Suddenly Ava started to cry. Big wails that filled the trailer. "Oh no! Hey Ava, It's okay. Nik is a friend!"

"You better take her back."

A few days later Hannukah came and Sofia had managed to get the night off. As the first stars lit the sky she settled in with a grilled cheese and thought of home. Her father loved Hannukah and had been excited for their first Winter Season as a family.

Then he'd ruined it.

She was just preparing to go to bed in her own bed for once when she heard a key in the lock. "Don what are you doing here. I thought you said I could have the night off?"

"A night off from the club. Doesn't mean you get a night off from me. Celia is already on her way for Ava."

By the time she'd woken up Ava and handed her over to the nanny, Don had already dimmed the lights and lit the candles. "Thought I'd get into the festive mood. You like it?"

"I love it. Why are you being so romantic?"

"I can be romantic."

"Usually you like to get right to it."

"That will come, tonight I just want to savor you." He pulled her into another slow kiss. "Mmm, you're learning. That wasn't half bad."

"Really?"

"A little more practice and you might be a pro. Let's try again."

He pulled her close again, his hands moving over her.

"I heard a man was here a few days ago."

"What? You mean Nikolas?"

"Who is he?"

"My best friend from childhood. You don't have to worry about him"

"Worry? A man like that doesn't stand a chance against me...A man like that won't consume your dreams...or your body like I will"

He seized her wrist and pulled her closer, her moans getting louder as he moved. He looked at her hand. "You know I don't like this ring."

"I know...I didn't get a chance to take it off since you showed up unexpectedly."

He slipped it off her finger letting it fall to the carpet.

Don always knew how to completely satisfy her but for the first time she heard him say something she never thought she would, "That was incredible, My Dove."

"Really?"

"Really. You know I wouldn't lie to you about that. Next time maybe I'll even let you take the lead."

1952 Pt1 - Stefan's Dream

[splendiferous-bitch]

filed my taxes 🫡 (good job me!!) but now i have to either download pics/videos offa my phone OR start packing 😫

[suizokukans]

“Owe me what...” Honestly he was a little taken aback by how.. polite? This woman was. The most politeness he dealt with was when he was in meetings and with how his staff treated him, but otherwise he really expected nothing from strangers and guests. The customer is always right and all that. “Whatever. There’s no other guests around for now, but just be aware of your surroundings in the future.”

Raising his eyebrows, he continued to just stand there and listen to her prattle on about what she was doing. Did.. did he really have to sit through all this? Should he just walk away? Ugh. It was so hard to make decisions. But he knew his business partners would grill him if he walked away from a potential host. Another tally to add to their list of grievances against the ‘young’ ceo. 

“...Right. Luzio Nikolaou.” He reaches out and shakes her hand, then retracting it to fold across his chest. “Mmm..” Looking around for the time, he spies the large clock on the wall and reads it, humming in thought. It was still early afternoon but.... “Yeah. Fine. I’ll accept the offer.” The blonde just shrugs, already turning on his heel to make his way out of the lounge. 

“You just sounded like a madwoman.” 

She was relieved. And embarrassed at the same time. She blushed slightly, but enough to make herself even more uncomfortable. She really wanted to know what words had slipped her lips, but the man was not inviting to be asked this question. But at least was kind enough to stop her mumbling. She needed to be more careful in the future.

“Then I think I owe you my gratitude for bringing me back to reality.” – she brushed off the awkwardness of their situation and decided to be polite and calm – “That was really unfortunate to disturb you…and other guests…”

( “Oh, he is the owner of this hotel… He does not look as one. But perhaps even more he does not behave as one!” ) – but it only increased her curiosity.

“Nice to meet you. This hotel is one of my favourite ever. I will actually be hosting an event here later today. You can say you have just met one of your most loyal customer.” – she joked – “My name is Nunnally.” – she said reaching her hand towards the man in a rather formal gesture – “Would you accept an invitation for a cup of coffee? I guess you are aware what you serve here is of extraordinary quality…” – she just hoped that perhaps in that setting she’d find out what she was actually saying. But instead to going with that plan, she remarked: --

“I hope I was not saying anything too embarrassing…” – the gentleman would understand the hint she assumed, but then again this man was…well, she was not sure if he were a gentleman, but he was different.  

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Leonidas, Buddha, and Tesla

When they meet and talk to Medusa about how she destroyed an empire and they just said " I pray to the wrong gods, then I pray to the existence of nothing of the Void who answered"

-You didn’t have too many guests, or at least it was like that before Ragnarok, because after Ragnarok you had many, people who were curious, wanting to know more about your tale and how you destroyed an empire.

-Most were polite, asking questions and you answered them, while others came to you, wanting to test their strength against your own, and you indulged a few- you were very sore after Lu Bu visited your home, wanting a fight, but he felt the same way as you didn’t hold back.

-It was a quiet day when three men came to your home, initially you thought they wanted a fight, at least one of them, Leonidas, but you were surprised when they wanted to know about your past, wanting to know how you took down an empire in less than a night.

-You invited them, Nikola Tesla, Leonidas, and Buddha, into your home, preparing tea and snacks, something Buddha cheered for, which made you grin, before you joined them and they started their questions.

-They learned, when you were changed into the Gorgon before them, you became immortal, so you lived long beyond what you should have, and with that time, you gained experience, as many tried to come and kill the monster known by many as Medusa.

-Nikola was concerned for you, “But it was the gods who made you like that- did they not have any sympathy?”

-Leonidas was the one to snort, holding an unlit cigar in his mouth, “The gods taught humans to be afraid of the unknown, to fear what is different, and with fear comes hatred, and a lust to stamp out that which is different.”

-You nodded, agreeing and Buddha agreed, leaning back in his chair, “That’s why I hate most gods- they treated humans like playthings.” Despite being a god now himself, Buddha still didn’t care for most of the gods, still finding many of them selfish.

-Nikola then spoke, asking another question, “I know back in your time, it was normal to pray to the gods? Didn’t you pray to them in your time of need?”

-You smiled, but there was no amusement behind it, “A god raped me and another god turned me into this, as if it were my fault that I couldn’t fight back against a god. Why would I pray to those who wouldn’t listen when I needed them the most?”

-They all stared, stunned by your words, before you smirked softly, “That’s why I prayed to nothing- I relied on my own power, and with that power, I made the empire crumble at my feet. Sometimes that’s all one needs- is the power you hold within you.”

-Leonidas grinned, impressed with your words, you were one hell of a woman.

-Buddha couldn’t help but laugh, knowing that this was true, as this was something he had taught his followers, that you’ve got to make yourself happy.

-Nikola was in awe of you- to hear the hardships you went through, to hear how you were treated, but still stood strong- he didn’t know strength until meeting you.

-Your afternoon with them ended with Nikola and Buddha cheering for you after Leonidas asked for a fight, one you were willing to give him, feeling happy to know there were good people in this world.

[fatehbaz]

“Being a bad biocitizen.”

-------

Marlene Feenstra (née McCorrister), my grandmother, was a Cree woman from Peguis First Nation. Peguis, our nation, is nestled among the ancestral lands and shared territories of the Cree, Anishinabeg, Assiniboine, and Métis peoples -- our homelands that sprawl out from the forks of the Red and Assiniboine Rivers in what is now Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada. [...] Gram [was] born in 1936 [...]. She attended residential school [...], and then, as an adult, she was legally denied residence on her reserve due to her marriage to a non-Indian [...]. Yet, despite these and other experiences, and like many Indigenous people, my grandmother never thought of herself as being colonized. [...]

Three years ago, when my grandma passed away, I spent a few days going through the old photographs, newspaper clippings, calendars, and notes she had archived for over sixty years. [...] I was glad, on that cold Winnipeg afternoon, to appreciate her taste in interesting imagery. Their combined content lays out a scene ripe for analysis: One card depicts what it called the “Discovery of Canada”: Jacques Cartier presenting the “weird apparition” of an Indian Chief to the king and queen of France in 1536. A postcard named the “Canadian Rockies” displays a scene of Alexander Mackenzie, Simon Fraser, and La Verendrye: on the back, the card describes them as “great explorers who played stupendous and courageous roles in western development.” Another postcard features the nineteenth-century Métis leader Louis Riel, sitting inside a prison cell awaiting his federally sanctioned execution. Finally, at first glance out of place in this set, is a postcard with the name “Science and Invention” and an image of a basement laboratory peopled by Albert Einstein, Thomas Edison, Alexander Graham Bell, and Frederick Banting.

-------

It is difficult to say whether Gram chose these cards for how, taken together, they illustrate the curious relationships between colonial expansion, the confinement of Indigenous peoples, and scientific inquiry. If she did conceive of the reciprocal relationships connecting the logics of exploration, discovery, and innovation with histories of colonialism, then she was in good company.

Historians of colonial science, for example, have shown that there is a historical relationship between the development of what is now considered modern science, the technoscientific advances indelibly marking Western civilization, and European imperialisms and colonialisms. Further, Indigenous studies scholars have located modern science within an ongoing colonial system that, working in tandem (and, at times, in tension) with other institutionalized fields, overwrites Indigenous peoples’ knowledges of their existence as peoples in terms of the logics of citizenship, rights, sovereignty, and capital. [...]

-------

Advances in genomic knowledge are both intriguing and frightening given that the “gift” and “weight” of science and technology fields have always been simultaneously present for Indigenous peoples.

When I was invited to speak at “The Gift and Weight of Genomic Knowledge: In Search of the Good Biocitizen,” out of which this special report evolved, I was enthused by the rich conference rationale provided by organizers Joel Reynolds and Erik Parens. Consistent with Foucauldian scholarship such as that of Nikolas Rose, Carlos Novas, and Dorothy Roberts, the conference framed biocitizenship in relation to that shift provoked by increasing amounts of biological, and especially genomic, knowledge and data that are changing the ways that citizenship is being imagined. Civic responsibility in the age of biocitizenship, Reynolds and Parens observed, encompasses being and remaining healthy for the sake of ourselves and for the greater good of human populations: biometrically monitoring one's physical activity, seeking out direct-to-consumer genetic tests, coughing into the inside of one's elbow, employing barrier methods during sexual intercourse, and on and on are all examples of good bio-practice. In this spirit, biocitizenship -- the emphasis on the human population as biological -- has been endowed with the capacity to reconcile historic wrongs. The conference and this special report, as I understand them, are challenging us all to take pause amidst the accelerating pace of biomedical and genomic data generation and to critically reflect on the seemingly simple yet hugely difficult questions, what is a “good” biocitizen, and how do we become one?

I propose that one analytical pathway leading to said aspirational goodness might be found in its reverse: that is, in badness.

Following bell hooks's description of politicized looking relations, I am establishing these provocations to reorient, from my explicit vantage point, the set of concepts and real-world problems that this special report explores. As examined by hooks, in resistance struggle, the power of the dominated to assert agency by claiming and cultivating “awareness” politicizes looking relations -- one learns to look a certain way in order to resist. Reframing the terms of the discussion is a critical practice in also restructuring the power dynamics that shape common-sense ideas about what it means to be good. The exogenous generation of genomic knowledge about indigeneity, for example, exerts a scientific claim that one can see indigeneity in a way that actually matters. Seeing indigeneity through the prism of genomic knowledge is shaped by colonial lenses insofar as it is based on an understanding of indigeneity as primarily real, genetically. Academic and other ways of thinking that try to make sense of and represent genomic realities of the present are also structured by colonial looking relations. [...]

-------

Over twenty years ago, among the formative scholarship of early Indigenous studies, Vine Deloria Jr. published Red Earth, White Lies: Native Americans and the Myth of Scientific Fact (1995). Through this book and his other works, Deloria locates modern science within a colonial matrix that seeks to secure itself as a panacea of truthful knowledge creation at the expense of Indigenous sovereignties. [...] Fields, including scientific fields, that attempt to externally translate Indigenous peoples’ self-conceptions into a categorical or taxonomical language are interfering with their sovereign way of being.

Since the publication of Red Earth, White Lies, others have considered what the complicated entanglements of Indigenous knowledges are as they exist in relationship to science and technology fields. In Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teachings of Plants (2013), Robin Wall Kimmerer, for instance, provides a textually melodic illustration of the complementarities between botany, Potawatomi ecology, and the human and nonhuman relations that sustain her everyday experience. Noenoe Silva's Aloha Betrayed: Native Hawaiian Resistance to American Colonialism (2004) similarly considers how Kanaka Maoli have leveraged modern technological advancements in press and printing to oppose the illegal annexation of their territories. These works and others like them have unlocked methodological potential that is not premised on orthodox cultural expectations by framing the use and formation of twentieth- and twenty-first-century sciences and technologies as being instead Indigenous. These novel works set a stage for elaborate consideration of how engagement with technosciences on Indigenous peoples’ own terms might support their local governance systems: their ways of relating in and with localities of misewa (all that exists). [...]

-------

Fundamental to colonial civilizing missions were the so-called gifts of science and technology that Western imperial powers gave to their colonies and subjects.

Through the rhetorical prism of gifting, scientific claims to the “greater good” have been an enduring logic justifying scientific pursuits, while the collateral damage characteristic of incremental and experimental scientific methods have been disproportionately felt by Indigenous peoples as well as all other bodies deemed unreasoned (including human and nonhuman). [...]

Although there are now many versions of justice in concept and practice, many if not all of them are shaped through the presumed possibility that a normative good exists and that the journey of becoming good is, in itself, good. [...]

I charge non-Indigenous and Indigenous peoples alike to be bad: unpack and undermine the investments they have in propertied [...] state-based sovereignty and nationalism, capitalist cultures of consumption, and settler fantasies of being rightful and good.

-------

Jessica Kolopenuk. “Provoking Bad Biocitizenship.” Hastings Center Report Vol. 50 Issue S1. June 2020.

[magnoliabloomfield]

The Reason Part 7- Daisy

Gally sat at a table with Newt and Chuck, the latest greenie. Chuck had been following Nikola like a second shadow which meant he'd been around Gally plenty as well and had kind of idolized him, making the builder quite uneasy. Nikola had been working in the kitchen that day and finally came out with her own dish when they were practically finished eating already. She untied her hair from the top knot she put it in to keep hair out of the food, her long locks unwinding and falling down her back in soft waves as she sat down. And words were suddenly spilling out of Newt's mouth.

"You know, you're so beautiful, Nikola," Newt said with a hint of reverence in his voice.

She looked at him in shock as a blush crept up her neck.

"Oh, come on," She waved him off after an awkward pause. "I'm just the only girl you've ever seen." She chuckled nervously, her shoulders starting to hunch up. "One day we'll either have more girls here, or we'll get out and you'll find a whole world full of them and realize I'm not that great."

"No, there's no chance of that happening," Newt assured her with a small smile, his gaze on her was intense and she found herself struggling to look him in the eye for the first time.

Gally was so confused at what was going on, his eyes flicking between Newt and Nikola. Was Nikola blushing because she liked Newt, or was she just embarrassed? Since when did Newt say stuff like that? He glanced at Chuck to gauge his reaction to this strange exchange but the kid was blissfully ignorant to the awkwardness around him.

"Come on Newt," Zart called after him. "Back to work."

"See ya," Newt sighed before getting up and leaving.

Gally watched Nikola bite her lips, a worried look crossing her face before she ran her hands over it. He felt like asking what the heck that was or asking if she was ok, but the whole thing had struck him dumb and he didn't know what to say.

"You are very pretty," Chuck agreed nonchalantly as if he just caught up with the conversation. "Just like I bet my mom is."

Gally was so lost in thought later as he was working; he nearly smashed his thumb with a hammer. As much as Newt's sudden confession had bothered him, there was something Nikola had said that didn't sit right with him either. It took him a good portion of the afternoon and a few near misses for him to finally figure it out.

Nikola sat on the counter of the kitchen, something Frypan frowned heavily upon but he wasn't around to scold her, as she dried dishes from lunch. There was a thud behind her and a hand came into her field of vison, reaching from behind her and holding a single daisy. She recognized the hand, finger nails bitten to the quick and couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips. She turned to see Gally sitting on the counter behind her, his ears bright red as he looked out at the glade instead of at her. Gently she took the small flower from him, her fingertips brushing his.

"Do you think it's pretty?" he asked, still looking at anything but her.

"Yes?" She answered with a hint of confusion as she twirled the stem between her finger and thumb.

Finally, he looked her dead in the eyes, not wavering a bit. "Did you have to see every other flower to decide that one is pretty?"

Her jaw dropped slightly, surprised by how well he illustrated that. She didn't know what to say to it, but somehow she liked it a lot better than what Newt had told her in the first place. She figured most of the boys liked her simply because she was all they had and all they knew. She didn't think any of them would pick her if they had more options. After a moment or two of her stunned silence Gally gave a slight smile before he slid off the counter and got back to work. She stared after him, wondering what he meant by that. Was he trying to help Newt? Or was he trying to tell her that he thought she was pretty?

She put the flower in her hair and wore it there the rest of the day, noticing when it would catch Gally's eye and he would almost smile.

Masterlist

@frequentlychangingfandoms @quackquackbi @poulterjonas @crazysheeplyca @pre-google @gladerscake @neilox @thesuitkovian @carp3d1em @cottoncandy-dreamxd @emilyhadenbaker

[ricard-blythe-ffxiv]

Rampage, Comfort food, Illusion

The illusion of power - in his line of work he dealt with it on almost a daily basis. Individuals who thought the world revolved around them, that no one would dare to even consider crossing them, that they were out of reach...untouchable. But no one was untouchable...not if one knew the right questions to ask and the right people to talk to.

Luckily for him, he had a knack for finding those questions and those people - which was what brought him to the Drowning Wench on this particularly afternoon.

The man he was looking for wasn't difficult to find - not with how loud he was being. The poor waitstaff.

Ricard cleared his throat as he approached the man's table, offering the poor waitress a grin and a wink as he sat down.

"Problems Nicky?"

'Nicky' snarled as he looked across the table, eyes narrowing. "Damn right there are problems - where the fuck have you been?"

"Me?" Ricard tilted his head as he set a small box on the table, leaning back with an easy smile. "Oh, you know, here and there - took a little detour on the way here. Didn't think you'd mind."

He wasn't lying - he had taken a little detour, first to the man's office to have a chat with his staff - which had been very enlightening - and then to the Bismarck to pick up a little...something.

"Mind!? You didn't think I'd MIND!? You dare to think you're worth wasting MY TIME on you little...."

Ricard had already zoned out - having been forewarned that this was likely going to happen...

"He...does this thing, if he feels like he's been slighted - I kid you not, goes off on this rampage, you'd think you were talking to a child."

Ricard leaned forward, elbow resting on the desk and his chin resting in his hand. "You're kidding, and you have to work with that everyday..."

The woman - Nikolas's business partner - sighed, "I wish I was kidding. The worst part? The fastest way to get him out of it isn't talking to him, it's offering him a damn cookie..."

"...a cookie?"

"Mmhm - something about his mother used to give him one to stop his ramblings when he was younger, I don't know - all I know is that it works."

Nikolas slammed his fist on the table, shaking Ricard from his thoughts.

"You done with the hissy fit yet?"

"Hiss - you little -"

"Nicky, take a deep breath before you run off the table next to us, huh? Besides, you'll like what I took my little detour to get..." He opened the box, offering one of the cookies to the older man with a grin. "Cookie?"

The older man blinked before taking the offered confection and sitting back taking a bite as he started to relax - much to the relief of the staff.

Now - did he need to know that Ricard's detour also involved a momentary stop at his office where he'd chatted up his business partner and gotten access to a few files - Nope.

He had his comfort food, and Ricard had what he wanted - information and a way to poke holes in that illusion of power that the man clung to.

Now it was just a matter of waiting for an opportunity to use the information...and to be entertained in the meantime.

Thanks @theash-hatrukoth!