#which is why over the years jason had made numerous plans that will keep him dead for good

[undertheredhood]

it’s quite sad that the only thing keeping jason todd from killing himself is that there’s a very probable chance of him being resurrected again, which is the last thing he wants happening.

[behindheremeraldeyes]

damirae week 2021 Wednesday, May 5th - holiday & vacations title: love is in the air summary: When his brother decides to mess with him as a Holiday prank, Damian ends up having to travel in coach like the rest of the mortals. Eventually, though, he learns that turbulence can strike even before the plane takes off.

.

“What do you mean by coach class?”

His brows are furrowed when he asks her that, a puzzled expression taking over his face. Expectant, green eyes are on the flight attendant in front of him, as he waits for her to provide him a little more information on the matter. She’s growing anxious the longer he stares at her, a nervous tic making her left eye tremble whenever she tries to maintain eye-contact. Apparently, she knows who he is— of course she does— therefore; he believes it’s safe to presume she understands why he’s so confused.

“I’m really sorry, Mr. Wayne, but that’s what your ticket says.” She explains, her voice laced with nervousness as she shows him the printed paper with his name written on. Damian is not blind— far from that, actually. He can see all the information written on that paper, but no matter how much he tries, he still can’t comprehend the ‘coach’ part. He has been traveling by plane for as long as he can remember, and never once has he deliberately chosen a seat in coach— in fact, never once has he chosen a seat at all, since he has a secretary of his own. A very competent and well-paid one, for the matter.

Such a primal mistake like this has never happened in all the years they’ve been working together. Something must have happened, he knows.

“I believe there must have been some mistake.” He states calmly, his demeanor unaltered. “Could you please check it again? The people at my company would never make such a trivial mistake.”

“Of course, I understand completely. I’ll try checking it on the system to see if I can find anything.”

Her fingers move rapidly across the keyboard, and he studies her face, looking for a hint of what’s actually happening. She’s still nervous, he can tell, and if anything, that’s not a good sign. It means she’s not finding the problem in the system, and if she’s not finding it, it means the said problem doesn’t exist. And if it doesn’t exist— well— something must have happened at Wayne tech.

How odd, he ponders.

“I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Wayne, but there really has been no mistake. Your ticket was ordered last Wednesday night, and it is as I’ve told you, see?” She turns the monitor so he can see, probably so he won’t hold it against her or anything. “You know, it’s quite common for some of our clients to make this kind of mistake. Perhaps you forgot to select the first class? “

“Highly unlikely. My secretary always double-checks everything.”

“Well, both the coach class and the seat were chosen by your secretary last Wednesday night. Are you sure nothing unusual happened when he ordered the ticket for you?”

“I’m positive. It was a normal Wednesday and— wait.” He suddenly stops. His emerald eyes blink once, twice and a third time, a blank expression taking over his handsome face. ”Did you just say he?”

Once he allows her words to sink in, Damian questions the integrity of his ears. Perhaps, after all of those years fighting crime and handling explosives, they might not be working as perfectly as they are supposed to.

He must have heard it wrong because, last time he checked, Mrs. Miller was not a man. She’s a conservative woman who’s around her 60s, and even if that doesn’t mean a thing anymore, she has never once told him anything about switching genders. If anything, she’s always the one lecturing Jason about finding a kind woman such as herself.

Still, a stranger such as the woman standing in front of him could never know such personal things about Mrs. Miller’s life. Things are not adding up. And for he is his father’s son, he wants to know why.

“Oh, yes. I presume the name Richard belongs to a man, no? It’s the name of the account who’s booked you this flight.”

“Richard?!” He questions, and it only takes him a second to put all the pieces of that silly puzzle together.

Grayson, you bastard.

Now it all makes perfect sense. Of course he had to be behind this childish act. Who else would have enough free time to waste before the Holidays just to prank a busy, young man such as himself? His older brother might be respected by many of their super friends, but more than anyone, Damian knows he is but a child filled with hormones. He probably thought it would be funny to make his little brother travel for hours in coach as a commoner, where he would have to sit next to a stranger.

That worthless manwhore.

However, he won’t let his predecessor have the last laugh. Grayson did this solely to piss him off and throw him out of his comfort zone, therefore, the best revenge should be handling the situation without creating a fuss. Damian is going to accept the conditions without putting up a fight, and his brother’s victory will have a bitter taste.

Yes, that’s how a real man gets his personal revenge. He will endure a six-hours flight home in coach class like a pro, and he will show the first Robin not to mess with the newest generation.

A proud smirk, then, takes over his lips. That certainly should teach him a lesson—well, that and the explosives Damian plans to hide in his brother’s bedroom, of course.

“Mister Wayne, I’m terribly sorry about all this. I—“

“No need to be sorry. In fact, I should be the one apologizing for all of these questions now that I know what happened.” He starts, placing his hand on his chest as an apologetical gesture. “You see, Richard is my older brother. He’s not as smart as the rest of the family, so it’s highly likely that he’s made this mistake.”

“Oh, I understand. I guess every family has one of those, right?”

“You have no idea. Now, Karen.” He says, finally paying attention to the name written on her uniform. “I’m incredibly sorry for wasting your time. Without further ado, I will head to my seat.”

“Mister Wayne, you’re very kind, indeed.” She starts, a blush tinging her cheeks. With a staple, she makes small holes on his ticket before handling it back to him. “I hope you have a safe flight to Gotham.”

“Yeah, me too.”

His voice doesn’t sound as irritated as he feels, and that alone is a big victory. Without wasting more of his precious time, Damian walks towards the jet bridge so he can finally board the plane. A couple walks behind him, chuckling as they talk about how much fun it will be to go back home for Christmas.

Going home for the Holidays, huh?

An entire week at the Wayne Manor with his brothers and his father, sharing meals together and trying not to murder each other during their morning exercises. Though Gotham could not get any safer since the whole bat-family will be together, it is also the one time of the year when his murderous instincts are at their peak.

A tired sigh escapes his lips. That’s a problem for another time, he thinks.

Once inside the plane, his eyes search for the signs that will take him to his seat. For the first time in his life, he turns right instead of left— coach instead of first class— and suddenly, a small corridor is in front of him. For a moment, he feels like a cow heading for the slaughterhouse, as many other people are forming a line in front of him.

It’s hard to breathe and even harder to walk with all of those people trying to put their bags inside the upper compartments. He checks his ticket again. D21. According to the numeration pattern, he’s almost there, but he’s still not moving fast enough. All the simultaneous talk is driving him insane, and now he understands why some people choose to dope themselves as soon as they get inside the plane.

He doesn’t have any sleeping pills with him, but maybe if he punches himself with enough strength…

No. He can make it. Things will get better once he sits down and they take off. It can’t possibly get any worse than it already is, right?

Right?

A curse is muffled under his breath, and finally, he reaches his seat. For he knows how to travel light, Damian is quick to place his bag where it belongs and now he can establish himself. It’s a window seat, he notices, which means that soon there will be another person next to him, too close for his own liking. He knows there’s no use in picturing what kind of person it will be, but he can certainly hope it’s a nice one who knows how to respect his personal space.

If he or she doesn’t have vocal chords, Damian definitely won’t complain.

He closes his eyes for a moment, then, allowing himself to settle down and get used to his surroundings. It’s chaotic, he thinks, and he knows chaotic. Children are crying, some people are on the phone and others are just breathing too loud. He knows he’s whining like a brat, but it’s stronger than him. It’s annoying, and he swears if that lady keeps on talking about her 3 cats, he’s going to—

His inner monologue stops, his eyes widening for a moment. At last, he hears the one thing he hates more than Joker’s maniacal laughter. That unbearable sound that makes his head throb and makes his lips turn into a deep frown.

“Is that Damian Wayne?”

Teenage girls. And they know him.

Perhaps it’s the annoying giggle or even the way they keep on getting bolder every time they meet him, but Damian can’t stand them. They’re just too obnoxious— a real pain. He honestly doesn’t know why on earth they tend to approach him whenever they have the chance, especially since he’s sure he has never once paid them any attention. In fact, chances are he has even been rude to them on more than one occasion.

Trying to understand a teenager’s mind is beyond his capacity. Ignoring them, though doesn’t prevent them from returning, is the easiest way out, and when they come— because they will come— that’s exactly what he’s going to do.

“Excuse me, Damian Wayne.” One of them says, her voice laced with excitement. Two more stand next to her, but he can’t really tell them apart. “It’s you, isn’t it? “

Jesus, can someone please knock him out already?

He crosses his arms at her words, his brows now knitted in annoyance. He’s pretty sure there’s nothing welcoming in his expression, but that won’t stop them from continuing. It’s not like they actually care about his feelings or anything.

“Oh, my god! It really is you!“ She claps her hands, biting her lower lip. “Can I get a selfie? Can I?”

“God, Mary. Can you be any more inconvenient?” The one on her left asks, pushing her friend away so she can take a step closer. “Forgive my friend. She can’t read the atmosphere like I can. If you want, I can send her away and keep you some company during the flight.”

“Ugh, get out of my way, both of you!” The third one pushes through, using her elbows to force her way forward. “Hi, I love you and I really mean it, Damian! I love you so much that, if you want, we can meet at the bathroom cabinet and I’ll show you.”

His eyes widen in horror at such proposal, and he’s almost sure this girl isn’t old enough to be saying such things. From the corner of his eyes, he watches as a bunch of people lift their phones to point at him, all of them waiting to hear his final answer so the dirty press can judge him.

Grayson is going to pay dearly for this.

This girl is insufferable. All of them are.

They’re causing all of that commotion, preventing people from walking down the small corridor and embarrassing him in front of all of those eyes. They can’t possibly think it’s okay to do or say those things so openly like to a man they know nothing about. Though the initial plan might have been for him to at least talk to them, Damian can’t bear any more hatred inside of him than at this very moment, and if looks could kill, those three wouldn’t be breathing anymore.

His hands turn into fists and he closes his heavy eyes so he can stop himself from committing a murder. Justice, not vengeance. His father’s words echo inside his head, and he’s having a really hard time trying not to think only about the second part. He really just wants to go home right now. And thankfully, he’s not the only one.

“Hum, excuse me…”

His ears detect a fresh voice, calmer and more mature. Instinctively, he opens his eyes to look at this new stranger, and he’s impressed by what he sees. She’s beautiful, he notices. Dark hair, violet eyes and ivory skin, all together to form an ethereal beauty like he has never seen before. Damian can’t help but keep looking at her, curious to know what she’s going to say on this matter.

“Hi!” She continues, her thin lips turning upwards in a smile. “I know you’re all busy trying to seduce this man with your oozing pheromones and irrefutable proposals, but in case you haven’t noticed, there are people trying to get to their seats here.”

“So what?” One of them says, a hand on her hips and a lot of attitude in her high-pitched voice. She’s trying to be intimidating, but it’s clearly not working. “Can’t you see who he is, you emo? He is—“

“I couldn’t care less about who he is.” The raven-haired girl cuts in, clearly not in the mood for that drama. “He could be Superman or even the president himself, for all I care. My problem is with you three airheads who are interrupting the flow. There are people trying to walk here and the airplane hallway is not a place to flirt with strangers who won’t even remember your face once we take off.”

“What!? Of course he will remember!” She glares. “We are—“

“Annoying the hell out of him? That you are. I mean, just look at his face! He looks like shit!” She points at him, violet eyes now meeting emerald ones. Her though expression suddenly melts into a softer one, her head tilting a bit to the right. “No offense, though.”

“None taken.” He answers, an amused smirk now taking over his face. She nods at him before returning her burning eyes to those three girls.

“Like the rest of us, this man just wants this damn plane to get him where he needs to be so he can move on with his life and get drunk during the holidays. We don’t want to be here. So, without further ado, could please you get the fuck out of the way before I lose my temper? ”

He doesn’t know what happens next or even how a small girl such as herself could be so intimidating, but at her words, he notices his three fangirls flinching. They’re avoiding eye-contact, and for the first time, one of them seems to grow aware of the crowd staring at them. The one standing in the middle starts to tremble, and though they’re looking at him as if searching for some sort of support, Damian can’t bring himself to offer them anything slightly remote to that.

In fact, if he has to pick sides, he wouldn’t need to think twice before taking the brunette’s.

“I-I… I—“

“You what?” She asks, arching an eyebrow and crossing her arms over her chest. Her pose holds no hesitation as she stands her ground. “Do you need me to spell it out for you? “

With a 'tch’, the three girls finally walk away, returning to their respective seats with their heads hanging low, and he can’t help but feel incredibly satisfied by that. There’s a victorious smirk on her face, and it’s safe for him to assume she’s also feeling pretty good about what she just did.

What an interesting woman, he thinks. All that sass and eloquence are certainly eliciting his curiosity, and though he doesn’t want to admit it, he can’t help but feel slightly turned on by this stranger.

Interesting, indeed.

While Damian is still trapped in his thoughts, a round of applause takes over the airplane, as people congratulate the raven-haired girl. They pat her shoulders, thank her for getting rid of those girls, and she even laughs once the old lady behind her tells her they don’t make girls like her anymore. For a quick moment, she becomes the hero they didn’t know they needed, and for sure, this is going to be a pleasant story to tell during Christmas dinner.

They will portray her as the girl who saved their flight.

Damian, however, will portray her as the one who told his fangirls to fuck off.

He really needs to thank her for that. Fortunately, he will have over six hours to do that.

Before the Wayne heir can bring himself to form the words in his head, the girl is placing her small bag in the compartment above their heads. As she lifts her arms, her shirt lifts, momentarily exposing her belly. Even if it was just for a brief second, she catches him staring, and once their eyes meet, he looks away, his cheeks growing slightly warmer.

He sees as she slowly shakes her head before sitting next to him, and though he was not expecting a girl such as her, he’s currently thanking the superior forces for the partner destiny has chosen to be his seat-mate. She’s beautiful, her voice is not annoying, and the best part is that she doesn’t seem to give a crap about who he is.

Maybe he’s finally going mad because of— well— everything, but right now, Damian trulls believes that he might even fall in love with this girl.

A sly smirk takes over his lips, and he can’t help but stare at her for a little too long. She watches as he does so, and as expected, she doesn’t feel embarrassed or inhibited at all. Instead, she stares back, eyes squinting a bit in sheer mockery. A questioning look spreads across her face, and he decides that he should be the one saying something. Anything, really.

“You’re mean.” He states, as if that’s the biggest truth in the world. She tilts her head, but his words don’t seem to affect her.

“So what?” She asks, not really caring about his answer as she fastens her seatbelt. ”If you didn’t like the way I talked to your fan girls, you can go and apologize to them, be their hero or whatever. Though, if you’re really gonna go meet them at the bathroom cabinet, I suggest we switch seats so we don’t bump knees every time you have to go.”

She’s a spirituous one, he notices. And if he’s not careful, he might be the next victim of her graciously rude words. “Nah, don’t worry about it. As you’ve pointed out before, I don’t even remember their faces anymore. Your knees can rest assured.”

“Thanks, I guess?” She lifts her brows, not bothering to spare him another glance as she adjusts her dark clothes. There’s a book resting over her lap— Christmas Carol, for what he can see— and she uses her small fingers to tug a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“Yeah…” He shakes his head, forcing himself to focus. “By the way, I don’t think I’ve introduced myself. I am Damian— “

“Save it. I know who you are, Wayne. I might not be the most updated person in this world, but even Eskimos know your family. Don’t worry, though. I promise I’m not a disguised reporter or an annoying fangirl.”

“Not with that attitude, you’re not. Your clear lack of interest in my personal life can only be matched by only one other person I know.”

“Oh, really?” She asks, her eyes now turning to face him. Now that they’re so close to each other, he can see how bright they really are, and for a moment, he thinks she might even have hypnotic powers because he just can’t look away. There’s a curious tone lingering over her words, and he wants to believe she’s actually paying attention to him this time. “And who would that be, if I may ask?”

“My father.” He answers bluntly, and he notices as she she chokes back a giggle. There’s a soft smile decorating her lips now, and the surrounding atmosphere feels a lot lighter.

“Rachel Roth.” She sticks out her hand to him, and without hesitation, he shakes it carefully. Her hand is soft against his calloused one, and he notices the way she brushes her thumb over his skin. It’s a delicate and pure gesture, so fleeting that makes him wanting more as soon as he releases her from his grip.

“Well, Rachel…” Her name rolls out of his tongue as he tests the sound of it. It has a nice ring to it, he notices. “I think I need to thank you for saving me from a huge headache back then. Seriously, I owe you one.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I didn’t really do it for you, so you don’t need to thank me or anything. I just wanted them to get out of my seat, that’s all.”

“Selfish or not, you still got rid of them, so… thanks. “

“Well, if that’s the case, you’re welcome, Damian.” Rachel nods at him, the same smile still decorating her face. She picks up her book, then, flipping through the pages so she can pick up from where she had left. The way she says his name— so simple and unpretentious— makes his lips curl upwards, and all the bad feelings from before disappear.

This girl— Rachel— she’s showing what a life away from the streets and the business meetings must feel like. The conversation flows easily and effortlessly, to the point where it’s hard to believe they’ve met not even 30 minutes ago. It feels natural in a way very few things in his life do, and though he knows it’s not meant to last, at least he will cherish this moment before it turns into a fading memory in the depths of his mind.

Moments of pure joy shall fade into oblivion, that’s one of the most important rules of his life.

Thankfully, the internet is forever.

An unexpected buzz inside his pants breaks his train of thought. At first, he decides to ignore it, but after the third time, he gives up on the idea. Silently, he scoffs in annoyance, fishing his phone from his pocket. He presses the side button, then, the screen lighting up to reveal a couple of notifications. His eyes, though, land on three particular messages from his family’s group chat:

Grayson: I ship it

Drake : what happened, Damian? Are you okay?? Todd : hot and feisty. The best kind of girl, little bro

His brows furrow in confusion at his brothers’ messages. For what he can conclude, they’re talking about a girl he knows and has interacted with, but that’s pretty much it. The only female human in his mind right now is Rachel, and there’s no way for them to be talking about her. He’s not being followed or bugged, for all he knows— and he knows.

Something strange is happening, and he wants to know what. The youngest Wayne, then, texts them a single ‘?’ and almost immediately, Dick sends him a link to an Instagram page. He’s growing more confused with every additional information, but figures it must be just another one of Grayson’s stupid pranks.

He sighs at the thought. Isn’t he a bit too old for that?

An annoyed pout takes over his lips as a clear sign that he just wants to get this stupid thing over with. Once he taps on the link, though, it takes less than a second for his eyes to widen and his bored expression change into a surprised one. The video playing is muted, but he doesn’t need any volume or subtitles to know what the raven-haired girl in it is saying.

Oh… That angle does make her look nice.

He blinks twice as he allows the whole thing to sink in. Apparently, all of that show earlier was recorded by some cameras and posted all over the internet. There are many posts about it, with all possible captions and comments about them, and he has to admit some are quite creative. Apparently, they’re the new internet hits, not that Damian really cares about it. He’s used to all the lies and overreacted dramas, but if he were to be honest, this one is making him quite intrigued.

Not by the gossip itself, no. That would never happen.

This time, he’s intrigued by how the girl next to him will react as soon as she finds out.

From the corner of his eyes, he watches as she’s calmly reading her book, waiting for the plane to take flight. She’s immersed in Charles Dickens’ words, and it’s like the entire world around her can’t interrupt her. It’s just her and the book, and for she hasn’t touched her phone since her arrival, he’s quite sure she doesn’t know what’s happening in the digital world.

At least, not yet.

He’s definitely going to tell her.

“Uh… Rachel? ”

“Yes, Damian?” She answers, her eyes not bothering to leave the pages of the book.

“Just a quick question… How do you feel about being the center of attentions? “

“I hate it. Why?”

“Well, you might have to reconsider this…” His voice falters and he slowly massages the back of his head.

“Oh, and why would I do that?” She looks at him, at last, her brows now arched. Her expression is blank, and he suddenly wants to laugh because she has no idea of what’s coming.

“Here, check this out. ”

He gives her his phone, a smirk decorating his face. Slowly, he watches the video playing once again on the small screen, all life slowly fading from her pretty face. Her eyes widen, her lips part, and she places her fingers on her left temple. Her cheeks are growing redder than a tomato, and once the video ends, she is completely dumbfounded.

“Wha-what the hell!?“ A couple of seconds pass until she says something, her voice a little too loud, and her eyes filled with a mix of anger and embarrassment. “What’s the meaning of this, Damian!?”

“Well, I think people enjoyed your bossy words from many different angels”” He starts, taking his phone back and scrolling through his time line. His voice sounds too excited for her liking, and it’s easy to tell he’s trying to hold back a laughter. “You went viral, Rachel. ”

“No no no no.” She repeats, slowly shaking her head in denial and taking her own phone in hands. With trembling fingers, she opens her Instagram page and a rush of follows and mentions makes her eyes widen even more. “I can’t believe this is happening. ”

“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad.” Damian tries to calm her down, but the joy in his voice takes all of his credit away.

“Not that bad?!” Her eyes are glaring at him now, cheeks puffed in pure anger. “I got remixed, Damian!”

A sly smile takes over his lips, and he’s]really trying not to laugh in front of her. “And it’s a good remix. Besides, for what I can see, most people are on our side.”

“Our side? I was just trying to reach my seat. There’s no our side, Damian.”

“Well, apparently, there is. Look.” He leans towards her, absentmindedly, until he’s close enough to feel her embarrassment exhaling from her. Their knees are brushing, but neither of them seems to be aware of that closeness right now. He shows her his phone one more time, a couple of comments now displayed. “Some people are even shipping us already. #Damirae.”

A defeated whimper escapes her lungs, and finally, she locks her phone-screen. Apparently, Rachel can’t look at all that anymore, and decides to just sink into the seat. Her hands are covering her face, and her voice is muffled when the next words come out. “Ugh, this is a nightmare.”

“Try looking at the bright side. This video can make you famous. I’m sure the media already loves your sarcasm. “

“If you haven’t noticed, Wayne, I’m a goth.” She spreads her hands across her face so she can look at him through the space between her fingers, and he can’t help but find that utterly adorable. “I don’t do bright side. ”

“God, you’re so dramatic.” He also locks his phone, placing it back inside his pockets. His torso turns around so he can face her properly, that same smirk still planted on his lips. “It’s just a video, relax. Most people will soon forget about it.”

“Some people? And what about the others?” Her voice is lower now, shier, as if she’s really seeking some sort of comfort— not that he’s even trying to offer her any.

“Oh, we will remember this forever, don’t worry.” A dry chuckle escapes his lips, and he notices the way her expression melts in response, tension and nervousness now gone.

Damian is having the time of his life, not only because the video was, indeed, funny; but also because he’s getting to see another side of this interesting girl who’s sitting next to him. Even if she really is bothered by the whole thing right now, eventually, he trusts that she will get over it and realize that no one gives a damn about stuff like that.

It’s just a temporary thing. A funny story for the future.

Rachel will survive it. And he—well…

He’s just found himself an excuse to follow her on Instagram.

“You jerk.” She chuckles, finally placing her hands on her lap and adjusting her posture. She takes a deep breath, then, as if she’s trying to recompose herself, but he notices the way she shrinks a little once she realizes the couple next to them are staring. Her body turns towards his, a sign that she feels somehow safe with him.

And for that, he’s extremely glad.

“That’s a new thing.” Damian states, mockery no longer lacing his voice.

“What is?” The girl questions.

“You’re laughing.”

“So what?”

“It’s nothing, really. It’s just… cute.”

Her cheeks grow red once more and she bites her lips. For a fraction of a second, she turns away from him, but soon, her amethyst eyes are once more looking into his emeralds ones. “Shut up, will you? You’ll need more than that if you want your Damirae fantasy to come true.”

“Oh, so are you saying I have a chance, Rachel?” He teases, knowing very well she didn’t mean it like that. Still, he figures he can’t waste this opportunity. “Are you sure you’re not a disguised fangirl? “

“You wish, Wayne.“ She smirks, offering him a side glance as she picks up her book again. “And I never said that.”

“You didn’t say the other way around, either.”

“Good point.” She nods, acknowledging his words instead of trying to deny them. “I guess you have the entire flight to make sure I keep it that way…”

There’s a flirty tone in her voice, and instantly, the Wayne heir is up for the challenge. Their eyes meet again, and for a moment, he thinks she’s checking him out. They smile at each other, exchanging that you-know-what look, and right now, he doesn’t think this flight will be long enough.

He wants to know more about her. He wants to play this push-and-pull game, and more than anything, he wants her phone number. And Damian Wayne win’t stop until he gets what he wants.

At last, the pilot makes his announcements, and for once, they break eye contact when the flight attendant passes by their seats, closing the compartment above their heads. Seat-belts are fastened, tables are up, and the crew is ready. They’re ready to take off.

fin.

-----

a/n: Well, there are not enough words to describe how much trouble I had with these prompts. I gave up on so many ideas and got so mad at everything that I’m impressed I even managed to write something in the end. Still, I’m glad to have written this one. I had a lot of fun with the dialogues and with every smirk I wrote! Hope you’ve enjoyed it, and please, tell me what you think!

[speechlessxx]

Requite - part 2 (Andy Barber x Reader)

Summary: In which the reader sticks by Andy’s side throughout Jacob’s trial and the aftermath of a life changing accident.

Warnings: I followed the book’s ending instead of the show’s ending, SPOILERS for Episode 7 and Episode 8 (and the book!), I omitted the trip to Mexico, slight CHEATING (kiss & feelings), implied age gap, 

Word Count: 2.5k

long awaited... i know! i’m sorry!

READ PART 1 HERE

“I won’t get through this without you.”

You weren’t sure why Andy told you this a day before the trial. He was asking – begging – you to stay and see the trial through.

You were rightfully reluctant. You weren’t anything to him. You were just a friend, something you had to keep reminding yourself. Perhaps you were less than that – you and Laurie weren’t even close. You didn’t know if Laurie would appreciate your presence, unsure if she knew what transpired between you and her husband. Your relationship with the Barbers started and ended with Andy, maybe with the exception of their son – even then, you weren’t close Jacob except for the occasional ride. You were simply the next-door neighbor. Nothing more… at least that’s what you told yourself.

Andy’s blue eyes were clouded. The stress and nervousness written all over his face though he tried his best to conceal that from everyone. He was the head of the household. He was their source of stability. If he collapsed (and he was almost there), then the family would topple over, too. Although his and Laurie’s marriage had been fragile for years now, they put up a united front for the sake of the cameras that constantly followed them. It hurt you, but again, it wasn’t your place to be hurt.

You had no plans to stay. You wanted to sever all ties with your old life and start over. Like you told Andy days before that incident, nothing was keeping you in Newton.

But then you stared into Andy’s pleading eyes. This man was your kryptonite. “Please…” he said. His voice was barely above a whisper as if he were afraid to be overheard though both of you were completely isolated in your backyard. “Please stay.”

So, you did.

You stayed for every gritty detail and revelation that was revealed throughout the trial. As much as you hated to admit, Jacob looked guiltier and guiltier, but you still had faith. You believed he was a good kid. How could he not be? He had an amazing father to look up to.

Then, Derek Yoo took the stand. He read out the “Job Story” that detailed a boy named Jason who murdered his bully, Brent, in the forest. You felt your jaw drop slightly as the color drained from your face when Derek finished the story. Andy had turned in his seat next to his son.

At first, you thought he was staring at Laurie, but he was staring at you – something his wife also noticed.

You didn’t know this, but your mere presence alone was a comfort to him. It was something about your smile or the way you’d chuckle lightly when Joana was able to poke holes into the prosecution’s theories. If you believed Jacob was innocent, then others would, too.

He had a panicked look on his face, desperate to find any source of reassurance from you, but you were almost certain that your expression mirrored his. Like Andy, that “Job story” made you start doubting. It was nearly a confession. It might’ve been the final nail to this coffin that Loguidice built for his son.

-=+=-

Laurie tearfully confessed to Andy that she believed that their son was guilty. Like many, the story swayed her though she had already been on the fence about her son’s innocence. She envisioned when Jacob was a young boy. She remembered when he lifted the bowling ball, ready to bash it into another child’s head. The thought that her son – the baby boy she cradled in her arms and kissed goodnight, the young man whom she loved unconditionally – was capable of such an atrocity terrified her. What had she raised? What had she loved?

Andy stared at her in disbelief. His arms were crossed as he leaned against the kitchen counter while Laurie let out everything she’d been holding in.

“He didn’t do this. I know he didn’t do this.” Andy snapped, punctuating every word. But it was a lie. Andy began doubting, too, but what kind of father would he be if he let one thing – a work of fiction – convince him that his son was a murderer? Andy raised him, held him in his arms, taught him how to walk – how to fish, told him he loved him. He couldn’t let himself believe that Jacob was guilty. That was his son.

“No, you don’t!”

“No one can sustain that level of deception!” Andy argued.

“Of course, he could!” Laurie shot back. “You of all people should know that.” She bit her lip while her eyes watered again.

Laurie wasn’t stupid. She knew. She knew the marriage was falling apart – they’ve both known for years now. She knew how her husband wandered off to her next-door neighbor’s. She knew that Andy liked comforting you – that he liked providing you help, always offering to do a favor. She had hoped it was innocent visitations – he was just checking up on the poor young woman whose husband abused her. But she always knew deep down, there was something more. Your presence at court – Andy staring through her to look at you – made it all connect.

Andy scoffed, looking down. She stared at him in silence and he refused to look at her. He wasn’t discreet about his affection for you – his concern for you. Though he’d convince himself that you were just a distraction from his failing marriage, he knew there was something more and he now knew his wife figured it out, too. “Yeah… yeah of course,” Andy said. “He learned it from me.”

“Maybe he learned it from both of us.” Laurie found herself guilty, too. She and Andy stayed together to keep face. They were the picture-perfect Barber family. And although the trial proved that they were far from that, the Barbers knew way before then.

For the first time, they finally agreed on something.

This marriage was a lie.

-=+=-

Three sharp knocks that was followed by the doorbell snapped you back to reality. You hadn’t realized you were staring at your framed wedding photo for the past hour. You hastily opened the door to reveal Andy Barber. He wore sweats and a grey top to match with a scowl on his face.

“Can I crash here tonight?” He asked. You frowned in confusion but nodded, widening the door to let him in. Andy noticed that you unpacked a few boxes. Those marked as “kitchen”, “bedroom”, “bath” had all been reopened. He didn’t fool himself to believe that you were planning to stay in Newton. You had unpacked because he had asked you to stay until the trial was over. He was grateful.

“What happened?” You asked him, handing him one of the beers your ex-husband left behind.

“Laurie and I got into a fight.” He muttered. He took a long sip from the bottle. His brows were furrowed and eyes low. Andy was clearly upset. You scolded yourself for bringing him a beer. The mixture of alcohol and anger never ended well for you.

You decided not to pry. It wasn’t your place after all.

“You know,” Andy said, taking a seat at your dining table. You joined him. “I wish we ended things a long time ago.”

“Don’t say that,” you said. “You and Laurie are a great couple.”

He chuckled humorlessly and shook his head. “We aren’t.” You weren’t sure how to respond, so you opted to keep your silence. Did that incident bring him an epiphany? Your gulped, suddenly feeling a wave of guilt. The emotion seemed to be making its rounds today. “I… I don’t know what to think of that story, honestly.” You hugged your arms around yourself as he took another swig from the bottle. You didn’t want to talk about the story. You still wanted to believe that Jacob was innocent although your faith was slowly waning. Andy narrowed his eyes at your reaction. “Why do you do that?”

“What?”

“Curl into yourself… you do that when you talk about your ex-husband.”

“I thought we were talking about you and Laurie.” You muttered, tucking a piece of hair out of your face. You’d rather not talk about your marriage or the aftermath of it.

“You’re a good distraction.” Andy shrugged.

“I won’t take offense to that.” You laughed a little and unraveled your arms from your body to pick at your thumbs.

“Don’t.” Andy smirked a little. Another sip. “I like you.”

“You’re drunk.” You waved your hand dismissively. You felt butterflies begin to flutter in your stomach and decided to ignore it. He didn’t mean that.

“Sober thoughts are drunk words, right?”

“You’re stressed.” You reasoned although you felt as if you were convincing yourself he was.

“It’s the truth…” Andy said, taking another drink. He stared straight at you. You felt like he was staring into your soul. “I like being around you.”

“I’m a good distraction?” You joked.

“No, it’s more than that.” Andy scoffed, shaking his head. He reached over and grabbed your hand. You stared at him, wide eyed, with surprise.

“Andy –“

“Laurie and I decided we’re getting a divorce.”

“What?” You thought you’d be delighted upon hearing that, but you felt dread course through you. You thought of the numerous mistresses that your husband entertained. You were in their shoes now and you hated it.

Andy licked his lips, taking another sip from the bottle. “We decided no more lying. No more pretending. After the trial – whichever way the jury leans towards – we’re over.”

“I’m sorry…” You didn’t know what else to say. You pulled your hands from his. He let you go.

“You shouldn’t feel sorry.” Andy muttered with a frown. “It’s been years in the making. We just can’t… we can’t pretend anymore.” He stared at you, but you refused to look at him, opting to stare at your hands instead.  “Wait… are you blaming yourself?” Your silence gave you away. “It wasn’t your fault, (Y/N)… We were over a long time ago. It’s finally time we admitted that to ourselves.”

“Okay…”

“I wasn’t lying about before either and forgive me if I’m wrong, but there is something here.” He was blunt. He was more straightforward than he would’ve been if he were sober. Perhaps it was a good thing.

You wrapped your arms around yourself again and shook your head, protesting. “Andy – “

“You’re gonna tell me there’s nothing. You’re gonna tell me I’m wrong, but you’re pulling away from me and curling into yourself like how you did when I asked you about your bruises.” He knew how you were. He knew you. He understood you.

“I’m just your distraction. Tomorrow, you’re gonna wake up and go back to your house.” You frowned. “I’m just convenient.”

“No, you’re not!” Andy argued. “I asked you to stay for the trial because I know Laurie and I wouldn’t be able to be there for each other. I asked you to stay because you listen to me, you understand, you comfort me when my own wife can’t. You’re not just convenient or just my distraction. Honestly, I think if I had met you first, I wouldn’t be married to my wife. I’m falling for you, (Y/N).”

“Andy…” you shook your head. It was wrong for him to say that whether he was buzzed or sober. You didn’t want to argue and his voice steadily increased in volume frightened you. The alcohol in his system and his boiling rage – whether it was from your dismissiveness or from the trial – wasn’t a good mix.

You decided to take yourself out the equation before it got out of hand and stood up from the table. You were going to go fix him a place to stay. Your guest room still had the bed and bedframe set up.

But Andy stood with you, grabbing your hand, preventing you from walking away. You said his name again, but he didn’t want to listen to you lie to yourself – lie to him. Without another word, Andy pulled you into him, pressing his lips against your own.

It was a replay of that incident except you didn’t pull away almost immediately. The soft and gentle kiss slowly heated into a passionate one. Your lips moved in sync and molded together. His beard tickled your skin but you paid it no mind, getting lost in Andy. One of his hands rested on your waist and the other on the back of your head, getting lost in your hair.

Everything about it was addicting. Frightening, even. So much so that you finally pulled away after long moments of getting lost in one another’s lips. But you didn’t untangle yourself from his arms. You simply stared up at him and he down at you. You should’ve pulled away. You should’ve told him no.

But you caved. He was your kryptonite after all.

You pulled him back down to meet your lips, igniting the fire between you both once more. In that moment, the trial, his failed marriage – everything ­– dissolved into the background. It was just you and Andy.

“I love you.” His words muffled by the kiss, but you heard it all the same.

-=+=-

“It’s not my place, Andy.” You told him as he begged you again to stay.

“I won’t get through this without you.” He said the same words that kept you in town for his son’s trial.

Your heart broke for him. It really did.

After the trial, Andy made good on his word. He and Laurie understood that their marriage was unsalvageable. Co-parenting would’ve worked for them. They were still a good team. Laurie even suggested that Andy should have full custody of Jacob and they could alternate major holidays. It was a good plan. The divorce hadn’t been finalized yet, but the decision was already made – perhaps it was made years ago and was only acknowledged now.

You and Andy decided to start over together.

No lies. No deception. Just the pure, unadulterated truth.

Andy started this new life by confiding in you that his father orchestrated Leonard Patz’s confession and suicide. Although neither of you spoke about it, the question still hung in your heads – was Jacob guilty after all?

Andy was eager to leave Newton as you were. You were thinking about moving to New York City – Jacob was excited about it – though Los Angeles and Houston were still in the conversation. You both wanted a change. Perhaps a big city would’ve been a perfect fit for your new life together.  

But then disaster struck. It was Laurie’s weekend with Jacob. There an accident… or what appeared to be one. Jacob was killed on impact. Laurie left in a coma.

And just like that, your new life was put on hold.

Andy was being summoned to court.

Loguidice was building a case that suggested that Laurie purposely murdered their son. Unsure if you could take another trial, you wanted to leave. You were prepared to leave with or without Andy.

But you were the last thing Andy had in his life. His soon-to-be ex wife was comatose, and his son was gone. Your heart broke for him.

He needed you now like how you needed him.

Andy begged you to stay.

So, you did. 

[drethanramslay]

A funny thing called Fate: Chapter 1

Pairing: Bryce X MC (Aisha Khurrana)

Word count: 2.6K words

Series Masterlist 

Masterlist

Warning: None really, just some cursing

Author's note: Hello!! I am back with the first chapter of "A funny thing called Fate" and this time this is in Bryce's POV

Like I said last time, there would be time jumps so you will be seeing both- 16 year old Bryce and present day Bryce

Just a word of caution, 16 year old Bryce (according to me) is your typical bad boy who is a jerk and upholds his reputation and prestige as the most important priorities

I decided to take part in @choicesseptemberchallenge20​ the prompt being- LOST

Also decided to take part in @choicesweeklychallenge​ the prompt being "I just... don't know. Honestly."

Both of them will be in bold

TERMS THAT YOU NEED TO KNOW:

-> kanilehua: Motherfucker (I literally googled curse words in Hawaiian language so please forgive me if they are wrong 🤧)

-> okole: Butt/ Ass

-> budhiya: old woman in Hindi

Forgive me if I make any mistakes

10 years ago- Bryce's POV

"Aloha!!" Bryce's cheerful voice ran clear through the hallways as he approached his teammates, instantly capturing the attention of the people.

"Hey Bryce, my man." Jason, his best friend stepped forward and did a complicated handshake with him before patting his back.

"How was the summer?" Kai, his other best friend spoke up as he leaned against the lockers, his dark hair falling on his eyes.

"You know the usual. Practice and stuff. My parents did take us to Australia. The waves there are sweet." Bryce whistled lowly, remembering how he spent numerous days surfing at sea.

"What a lucky bastard. Do you think your parents would adopt me?" Jason asked causing Kai to chuckle.

At this point, they would want anyone but me as their son. A dark look passed on his face but he hid it behind the over cheerful and happy go lucky mask.

"So, what's up with you guys?!" He asked, smoothly changing the topic.

Jason began. "Well I for one, had a fun summer hanging out at the beach, enjoying the sun-"

"-having flings left, right, centre." Kai completed the sentence, snickering.

"As if you weren't the one who fooled around more. You broke so many hearts, Kai!!" Jason rolled his eyes.

"But I finally settled down, unlike your unsettled ass." Kai exclaimed.

"50 bucks you will break up with him in ten days." Kai narrowed his green eyes and smacked the back of Jason’s head. 

"Wow, seems like I have some catching up to do." Bryce smirked.

Kai turned towards Bryce, suddenly serious. "Glad you brought it up. We have a proposition for you."

Bryce incredulously raised his eyebrow.

"Your two o'clock. Short brunette with glasses. Don't be too obvious."

Bryce ran his hand through his long hair and his amber eyes fell on the girl.

He leaned against the locker near Jason.

"What's her deal?"

"Apparently, she joined the school last year and has been on the low. Keeps to herself, certified nerd, teacher's pet and super uptight."

Bryce eyed her and he recognized that she was in his chemistry class last year.

Aisha Khurrana.

"Wait... That's Aisha. She was in my chemistry class last year. Introverted and quiet."

Jason did a double-take. "Wait really? Well, that makes it easier for us."

"Good. I will make y'all talk to her-"

Kai stopped him midway. "Woah, woah, woah. We don't want to interact with her. You are the one doing this."

"Will one of you kanilehua tell me what the fuck is going on?" Bryce asked, getting annoyed.

"After the legendary prank Ano pulled last year, it's time we step up. So while you were tanning your okole in Australia, Jason and I were brainstorming to come up with a better idea."

Jason continued. "So we decided that you could get her fall in love with you before the finals and boom! We could pull the prank on prom."

Bryce's eyed widened. "Woah, don't you think that's extreme?"

Kai rolled his eyes. "Please, Ano humiliated a teacher and exposed that he was having an affair with a junior. I don't think it's that extreme."

"What is this prank you have planned on prom?"

Jason waved his hand. "We haven't worked out the details but we have the entire year to do that. You on the other hand... Are running out of time."

Bryce's eyebrows furrowed. "And why can't either of you take this up?"

"Because Kai here is surprisingly getting cosy with Kaeo the jock from Sunset High while I am on the principal's radar for the shit I did last year. I am this close to getting expelled." Jason enunciated his point by touching his pointer finger and thumb.

"Jas... you're touching your fingers."

"Exactly."  

"So will you take one for the team?”

Bryce sighed. "I just... don't know. Honestly." 

“Bro, this could literally make or break our popularity bro. You don't want to be the laughing stock of the school, do you?" They asked with puppy eyes.

The peer pressure and the need to uphold his reputation as the golden boy made him raise his hands in defeat. His eyes glanced at the losers down the hall, who people were blatantly ignoring.

Definitely don't want to fall in that category.

"Fine. I will do it. But you will owe me."

"That's our boy." The boys whooped as they clapped his back.

Bryce's eyes wandered to his new target, finding her brown eyes staring right back at him. The flecks of hazel shone with curiosity but her face was impassive as if she didn't want to let anyone in.

Well, this is going to be an interesting year, Aisha Khurrana. Bryce thought to himself.

PRESENT

When Bryce woke up this morning, he didn't think his day would turn out this way.

Who would have fucking thought that the one girl you could never get over shows up at the hospital you are a surgical intern at?

Not me.

He was looking forward to this fresh start. A new city where no one knew who he was and he hoped it stayed that way. To hone his craft and become one of the best surgeons in the country. Anything to get rid of the stains on his name.

After Aisha left at the beginning of Junior year of high school, things were hard. Not that anyone was going to believe him but he actually loved her and no matter how many people he hooked up with, no matter how much he drank himself to oblivion, there was just no getting over her.

He often wondered- no believed that he had lost his one shot at love.

You only get one great love and of course, I had to blow it up, and for what? Popularity? Reputation? That already went down the drain because of my beloved dad.

When he finally got his head in the game and things were bearable, the scandal happened towards the end of the Senior year. Sure, he could hide face during the summers, lounging in his gaudy compound. But he could hear the occasional shouts and protests out of the gates of his home, reminding him that he couldn't escape the truth.

To distract himself from his dad going to trial, his mom selling out to the feds and his baby sister crying from the stress, he dove right into his studies, hoping to score well in his SATs so that he could get away from Maui.

But there was still one year of high school left, and that was fucking awful. He was relentlessly bullied at every turn of the corridor, got the stink eye from the teachers and people jumped away from him as if he was a social pariah.

Technically, I was.  

Though his parents were very tight-lipped about the details of the case, it wasn't that hard to get to know more from the internet. And the fact that the people in his school always made it a point to remind him.

Aisha's dad was one of the people who worked for the company that got screwed over by his dad.

Bryce had given up after all these years that he will ever find her again. He often wondered what would he do if he were to meet her again. The apologies he would say and the monologue on how ‘he was never the same after she left’ had been practised over and over again.

But right there she was, half-naked in front of him, completely at the loss of words. His eyes wandered, making sure if it was the same girl from tenth grade. There was a nose piercing and he saw a little ink near a hip.

"Aisha?" He repeated, completely shocked, his jaw dropped. Never in his entire life has he felt the loss of words.

They stared into each other's eyes, chocolate brown eyes meeting his amber ones, completely lost.

But that moment didn't last for long because Jackie shutting the locker made them realize that this was indeed reality.

Aisha managed to snap out of her reverie. "Oh my fucking god, I don't have time for this shit." She rapidly threw on her fresh sets of scrubs and slammed her locker before making a move.

Bryce stepped in her path, blocking her. "What are you doing here?!"

Her eyes snapped up to meet his, the familiar fire and hatred flooding in those brown orbs. "Well, I could ask you the same thing Mr. I-will-become-a-lawyer. Now out of my way, I'm getting late for the orientation." Though she was short (5 feet 3 inches to be precise), she still managed to slam her shoulder against his chest and walk away.

"Oh My God!!" Jackie's voice resounded after a few quiet moments.

"Put a cap on it nose wipe." He muttered as he rubbed the area where Aisha slammed against him.

"I didn't say anything."

"Yeah but that expression says it all." He rolled his eyes as put his stethoscope into his breast pocket.

"But, for real. Who is she?" Jackie asked, inquisitiveness laced in her voice.

Bryce flicked her nose. "I found your nose in my business, why don't you take it right out?"

"Ugh. Fine. Keep your secrets. C'mon, let us get to the orientation before it gets over."

"Yap. Right behind you."  The duo headed towards the main atrium and made their way towards the front so that they could hear the hospital chief. The rest of the interns were already gathered in front of the stairs upon which an impressive, statuesque woman stood and spoke.

That is Dr Harper Emery!! Bryce thought to himself, as the very thought of standing in the very same room as his inspiration made him giddy. He turned to talk but the excitement instantly vanished because thanks to his amazing luck, he ended up standing right next to Aisha.

The universe, what games are you playing against me? Bryce let out a sigh which caught Aisha's attention. She just gave an annoying glance and stared up, as if to ask why was this happening to her.

Both of them turned away from each other and focused on what Dr Emery was saying. "... because as of today, you are no longer students, You are doctors."

Aisha turned towards Jackie and whispered. "Psst. Who is that?"

Jackie whipped her head towards Aisha's short build. "I don't know if you are joking or are serious."

Aisha's ears getting red was the only confirmation Jackie needed. Her jaw dropped and she was physically incapacitated, unable to speak before she finally managed to string together words.

"Seriously? Did you learn medicine in the woods or something?"

Aisha's eyes narrowed and Bryce just knew that if he didn't intervene Aisha would absolutely roast Jackie and her lineage.

So, in a low voice, he spoke up. "That's Harper Emery, the hospital's new chief." A smile made his way on his face as he continued to talk about her. "She's a total badass! World-famous head of neurosurgery before she got promoted."

He turned towards Jackie, smirking. "Guess she's just a scalpel jockey too, huh?"

Giving a Cheshire grin she responded. "She's the only scalpel jockey who deserves rights."

Aisha gave a stiff nod before turning back towards the Chief.

Someone is definitely a ray of sunshine. Bryce thought to himself. His conscience promptly snarked. Bold of you to assume that this isn't your fault.

Brain... Stop. as he shook his head to shake off the guilt that slowly swirled in his chest.

"More will be demanded of you that you've ever experienced. Some of you will buckle under the pressure. Some of you will quit. But some... some of you will thrive."

"Damn... She is so inspiring... I feel like I can do anything." Aisha whispered, her brown eyes sparkling with admiration.

"Well then, can I inspire you to pipe down? I'm trying to listen."

"Can I inspire you to get your ears checked, budhiya?" Jackie looked offended but you could see the glint of amusement and respect in her eyes.

"Girls, can this fight wait until after the speech?" Bryce muttered.

"This is not fighting. This is us bonding scalpel jockey. Get on the same page." Jackie whispered causing Aisha to smirk.

"I give up. But please for the love of everything good can we keep it on the low." He shot a pleading look and they managed to shut up.

"You've been entrusted with a sacred duty: the care and wellbeing of every man, woman and child who enters this hospital. Are you ready?"

The interns promptly burst into applause and they look around, sharing excited smiles with their new colleagues.

Harper Emery raised her hand, to silence the applause. "You'll be introduced to your senior residents tomorrow but for now, you'll be partnering up for your first patients. Your assignments are posted on the board. Good luck, doctors!!"

Bryce swaggered up to his board and searched for his name and found out that he was paired with a Samantha.

Wait for a second... that name sounds fami-

"You?" He swirled around towards the feminine sound and as soon as his eyes landed on her, the memories hit him.

Him running his hands through her hair whilst they kissed passionately against the door of her apartment. Her running her hands down his abs and pulling him by the loops of his belt. Both of them lost in the sensation of each other and Bryce still had the scratch marks on his back to remind him of the amazing night they had the previous day.

"Sam? I didn't know you worked here!!"

"Well fate is a funny thing, isn't it? So apparently we are partners?"

"Yap and we need to take our cases from the residents and be on our way. Are you ready?" Bryce asked, a smirk playing on his lips.

"I was born ready baby." Sam winked as she started pushing her way through the throng of interns and Bryce followed suit.

When they finally were free, Jackie showed up next to him followed by Aisha and another girl who had a striking resemblance to Chief Emery.

"See you later meathead."

"Try not to miss me too much." He winked before glancing towards Aisha. Their eyes met and she immediately looked the other way, chatting with her partner.

"It's a beautiful day to save lives. Let's have some fun, shall we?" Sam asked her eyes twinkling which just made Bryce smile.

-------------------------------------------------------------

It was going good so far. He had been allotted two cases that day. One with a routine appendectomy and the second one being a benign tumour removal from the right lung. With a cool, calm collected mind, the two of them diagnosed the patients, raising eyebrows.

"Dr Lahela, what is the treatment plan?" Dr Tanaka, the head of cardiovascular surgery asked.

"Well we are administering her with tumour shrinking drugs like bromocriptine so that we could decrease the size and then after a couple of days we will take her for surgery."

Dr Tanaka gave a nod of appreciation. Sam turned and held the young patient's hand. "Miss, you are in good hands and if you have any more questions you can always ask for us."

"Thank you so much, Dr Anderson."

They stepped out of the room and Bryce shut the door behind them.

"Keep an eye on her and do checks every four hours. Good job." Dr Tanaka turned on his heels and only when he was out of earshot Sam fist-bumped Bryce.

"The surgical society is back at it again."

"God Sam that was awful." He groaned as he pulled his pen out to sign the charts.

"Well, that just means I need to keep thinking of names for the dynamic duo. See you later byeee."

He shook his head and gave the charts to the nurses' station before whistling down the confusing corridors of Edenbrook when suddenly he heard a thud sound from the nearby supply closet.

Must be a doctor who is not having a good day.

He stopped before the door, contemplating whether he should enter or leave but his instinct to help overpowered and he cracked open the door to see Aisha leaning heavily against the racks, her back towards him. Her shoulders were shaking and he could hear her heavy breathing.

He was about to leave unnoticed when Aisha’s voice wafted over to him. “get in or get out. Don’t hold it open.” She glanced towards the door and Bryce knew that he could kiss his unnoticed exit goodbye.

Oh boy. 

Oh? so we have a new character 👀 And um that really wasn't the reunion Bryce was looking forward to lol

And now the supply closet yikes yikes yikes okay now i will shut up heheheh

Like, comment, reblog and share your thoughts 

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[currentfandomkick]

Marinette did not sign up for this part 4

hey, so OG chapter 4 will now be chapter 5 as the gremlins hijacked this chapter.

part one here   previous part here   ao3 here

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            Damian stared in quiet horror as he looked over Ladybug’s exploits after hacking into Paris’ servers. His sister—the one he took down with little effort—had been defending the city for a month before he appeared. From the video of “Stoneheart” he could tell she was given no training. And her partner was flirting with her! When he should be focusing on the mission!

             What gathered from further research was the following: his sister and her ‘partner’ were untrained. Their teammates were also untrained. A team of ten untrained teenagers—perhaps younger—were tasked with keeping a villainous coward from stealing their magic artifacts, and with stealing his in turn. A team lead by his sister. A very alone, scared girl from his one interaction with her. Smart (he saw now she knew how to save her own skin. Redirecting his attention was a good move at the time). She is smart and creative because if she isn’t, then her city and her will lose. Be under the control of some madman.

             He had to get there, and he doubted he could convince Jon to help him at the moment—why are kyptonians always fighting one another when you need the assistance of one?

             Father would stop him.

             The League was keeping Father in Gotham and he didn’t have individual access yet…

             He was stuck for the moment, and did not like it. Perhaps Grayson could prove useful? He’d ask once the man was done resting from patrol.

---------

             Cass was enjoying Paris. She spotted the possible sister at the bakery with her adoptive mother. They were happy. Cass likes that.

             Cass moved quickly through the crowd, managing to make it to the bakery.

             Marinette ran into her.

             “Ah! Sorry!” the girl managed to catch her things before they hit the ground.

             Cass waved her hands, indicating there was no harm or foul. The girl was no clumsy—Shifu Cheng was ill-informed. Those reflexes and her expression before indicated nothing but an intense focus on something else. On what, Cass wasn’t sure.

             Yet.

             For now, Cass took a seat in the bakery, smiling at the kind woman working the front. Sabine Cheng, the woman who raised the maybe-Bat.

             Cass began doing her own research, messaging Babs that she saw Soup Girl for a moment, and would be assessing her parents. She knew of cases in Gotham where things weren’t always right, and she wanted to be certain that this girl was safe, regardless of if she’s a Bat or not.

--------

             Tim decided to ignore Babs offer in the end. The possibility of owing Jason was low given both him and Cass are on the Case. Jason is good, don’t get him wrong, but the chances of Jason actually talking to the girl in a real conversation before the rest of them? As Red Hood?

             This is a calculated risk and the odd are in Tim’s favor. (Well, not in Jason's.)

--------

             Steph hummed as she went over the designer pool she was looking over. Shockingly low given its Paris—granted 200 girls is a lot to investigate… she didn’t give the others all the information she had though.

             According to Damian, she “posts a disgusting amount” which means she’s posting or tagged often. When she used some of Babs old filtering program with social media involved, it brought the candidates down to 30. She could go through thirty teenage designers social media and comb over who at least has some genes that are dominant from the Wayne side. Her natural hair had to be medium brunette at the lightest, so the natural blondes took out seven candidates right off the bat. While blue or green eyes would give them more priority on the list, eye color genes are weird. Weirdly, five of her candidates had attached earlobes, so she only had 18 left after that filter was put on… Bruce’s hair isn’t curly, so two girls with intensely curly natural hair were taken off the list. Bruce’s thin lips only knocked out two more candidates.

             That left Stephanie Brown with 14 designers in Paris to find and investigate in the right age range, because she doesn’t think Bruce started having sex at 15, unlike Tim who is allowing college kids into his ‘could be Bruce’s daughter’ mix.

             Stephanie is also going to need a plane ticket to meet these girls, and that means getting help from one of Wayne kids… Or stowing away on the private jet that she knows Tim can and will be using sometime today to do ground work himself.

             She’s cool stowing away—Babs is covering for her on principle since Tim wouldn’t take the deal. Steph was smart enough to relinquish one piece of blackmail in total in exchange for use of Babs filtering tech—she has more than that thanks to one Supergirl spilling a number of things Babs has done over the years. Has Stephanie mentioned she’s the only one of the Bats to listen to Oracle, Queen of Technology, in this bet? She is, and she is better for it.

-----------

             Marinette managed to make it to the Agrests Mansion with little issue this time. Today she was going to one of the production lines with Gabriel to learn how to reset the machines and program them to follow any simple stitch pattern she wanted. It was good.

             She also noticed that during none of her times with Gabriel, was there a single akuma sighting. Not an attack—those never happened anywhere near their time together. It was an… interesting pattern. She was beginning to suspect that if Hawkmoth wasn’t Gabriel (he was akumatized, it can’t be him. Get that theory out of your head Marinette), then it had to be someone who worked for him, and high on the food chain.

             She made sure to memorize each of his ‘supervising managers’ and partners’ names. One of them had to be Hawkmoth. And Gabriel had to be someone that this Hawkmoth either really respected or really didn’t want handle re-scheduling with. Which would be all of them…

             She really wished she had more time to dig into their lives herself. For now, she had to trust Max and Markov to do the research… which reminded her, her name had been pinged on multiple searches in Gotham last night. From numerous devices. If the Bats were planning anything…

             Marinette gripped her purse a bit tighter. Her team has her back. She just doesn’t want them caught up in this mess too. She wishes that Aquaman never showed up. If he hadn’t, then the Bats wouldn’t be looking into her civilian life, the one they already knew about but only now deemed worthy of their attention.

             She wished they would just stop—she won’t look into the Great Detectives. She knows she’s not one of them. That she wouldn’t hack it in Gotham. But Damnit, in Paris? Her Territory—she does more than hack it. Sure, she may have blown herself up that one time, and yes, there is the timeline where as Princess Justice she may have sort of broke the world by forcing it to conform to that akumatized version of hers’ idea of Absolute Justice (apparently she was ruthless, made no exceptions and took out a third of the Justice League using Multimouse at the time on top of it all). Yes, she is not a perfect leader. Or hero. But Damnit, her (admittedly two) supervillians have been almost caught twice. Her re-akumatazation rate is much lower than any of the Justice League’s heroes’ normal villain or general crime recidivism rate by more than a little. By a lot. She’s not some Detective but she’s a damn good strategist, a champion at improvising and she and her team do work with the public and victims and reworked so much of Paris’ social culture to lower akuma-creating circumstances and keep the public emotionally healthy.

             She’s no detective.

             She’s a Guardian. That means caring about the details that shift the bigger pieces. That means adaption with what is there and creating what she needs. That means knowing her limits and getting help—to set an example and prove that not even her or Chat are an island. That even superheroes need help, need others and need to work together.

            She’s no detective. Detectives work alone.

            Her? She’s forged a team that (she hopes) could become the new Order of Gaurdians with her… some day. For now, they’re heroes with the same mission and different roles to play.

            Marinette just wishes that she could shut up this hunch since its been disproven. Her instincts on guilt and possible baddies aren’t the best—Adrien’s job is to sense what’s wrong and take them out. Hers is to make whatever is needed to help fix things, to push someone forward and help them grow. Her job to craft a better tomorrow today… and to do that, she lost the parts of her that picked up Danger. She can still find Caution signs (and her anxiety will always invent danger) but real Danger detection went to Adrien when she agreed to become Ladybug in the first place… And until both her and Adrien renounce their roles as the pair wielding the Ladybug and Black Cat miraculouses, she’ll always be missing it.

            The same way Adrien is missing his ability to think outside the box—seeing things as what they could become to help them went to her. He can only see potential threat and act on them. She can only see potential aide and act on that.

---------

            Jason grinned when he managed to make it into Paris. The second there was some damn akuma attack, he was grabbing the baby Bat and hunting Hawkmoth his way—she need the jewelry? Fine. She can have it. The guy brainwashing kids? The one that slaughtered the city? He’s Jason’s. ---------

            Bruce didn’t like being benched. He doesn’t like not knowing he had another child. He especially doesn’t like that this one is constantly preventing an apocalypse and his allies can’t be bothered to even send him anything about it. Not even a basic ‘she’s not living on the streets’ like Jason did. Or ‘she’s got parents here, calm down’ so he could get this stupid instinct to storm Paris and take on the bastard threatening his family that he didn’t know he had.

            Apparently Barbra has a hunch, but isn’t sharing until she has “conclusive evidence” of his daughter’s identity. Damian just isn’t speaking of it. As if being someone’s father biologically gives him a built-in alarm system for when he’s had a child and the ability to track them down at birth. Damian being raised in the League of Assassins should be enough proof to the contrary there.

            The others were… he wasn’t absolutely certain, but fairly certain his self-proclaimed ‘middle kid club’ were tracking his missing daughter down themselves. Possibly to claim her as part of their group, specifically.

            God, she was so young, It was before he even heard of the League that she was born. In that lifetime before becoming Batman. Would she like him? He was absent her whole life—did she want to meet him, meet the family? They’re a mess, he knows it. But they’re his—he chose them and they chose him. Would she chose him too?

            He watched another video of Ladybug in her early days, before she and her partner (dear god he’s cat-themed. Is it genetic? Should he test her and himself for some ‘drawn to dresses-as-a-cat’ gene?) were given any kind of training.

            She blew herself up to stop her city from being taken over by ‘Animan’ and his creatures.

            His daughter.

            Exploded.

            (She died. She died and he didn’t know. God he’s a horrible parent, and he hasn’t even parented her yet.)

            She died.

            To keep her city safe.

            She somehow reconstituted. But her face, in that video, she was shocked.

            His daughter should be dead but she’s not.

            Magic, he’s so glad his daughter uses magic.

            He. He’s going to need to consult someone. Raven? Raven should work. He can’t talk to the Justice League—nothing wrong with talking to the half-demon all of his Robins that lead the Titans has worked with.

            Loopholes.

            The Justice League is horrible at closing them.

---------

            Dick wanted to be mad when Damian came clean to him about the needles. He wanted to freak out over almost losing a sister he hasn’t met.

            He did.

            But.

            But this is Damian.

            Damian who still has trouble connecting. Who still flinches at certain tones of voice and phrasing. Damian who desperately wants to do Good but… struggles.

             Damian who has all of Bruce’s communication problems and then some.

             So no, Dick did not scream when he found out Damian only sparred “the blood daughter” because she looked too frail and weak for her to be considered anything resembling a threat to him. He did not sigh when he found out that Bruce didn’t know when Damian assumed he did. He did not hit himself when Damian discussed the various weapons he’d gifted her as a apology with the bouquets over the years and their meanings.

             He did take a deep breath, and begin explaining from this baby bat’s stance what had happened.

             “Imagine for a moment that it was me before I became Robin, and I was almost killed by someone who only let me live if I never contacted a shared parent or that parent’s known family. How do you think Pre-Robin me would have responded?”

             “You would have feared for your life and done whatever you could to prevent contact.”

             “Now, imagine I wasn’t told who to be avoiding, only aliases.”

             “You would avoid everyone with an alias that you did not help them create, and keep them from unknown aliases.”

             Dick snapped his fingers. “Exactly. That’s what this sister, what are we calling her?”

             “Her alias is Ladybug.”

             “Yes, that is what Ladybug was going through before Aquaman made contact.”

             Damian was quiet for a moment. “She must be on edge.”

             Dick nodded at that. “She probably is.”

             Damian furrowed his brow. “Do you think the League would allow me to contact her and end our agreement?”

             Dick rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not sure, but we can try.”

             “… And if they refuse?”

             “Then we find another way. We’re Bats,” Dick reassured Damian. He just hoped the missing members weren’t doing anything too rash…    

-----------------

             Marinette made a (painful) decision. Adrien and her would swap miraculouses—at least until there were less pings on her sites from Gotham. For added protection, she kept the Mouse miraculous on. Chatte Noire was less known, and she doubted Wonder Woman or Aquaman informed Batman about the miraculous of Creation and Destruction’s particular… refusal to let anyone but a pair chosen together to wield them at any point.

             Chatte Noire would only be on call for a day or so… what’s the worst that can happen?

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the characters are jinxing themselves, and procrastinating the (vague) plot of Shenanigans. i swear. 

if anyone can message me on how to add in a read more, that’d be great since i know these can get long to scroll past for mobile users.

@heldtogetherbysafetypins @laurcad123 @raisuke06 @chaosace @jeminiikrystal @toodaloo-kangaroo @kris-pines04 @laurcad123

[sparrowsabre7]

Ok this was in my drafts from ages ago and I forgot to post so it’s here now: 

So with Arkham Knight completed I wanted to discuss the story and some of the things I liked about the plot.

For my money Arkham City is the most entertaining of the series plot-wise. It is wide in scope, incorporating a large group of Batman’s rogues, with a lead villain who has a commanding presence. It is the quintessential Batman plot, full of twists, focusing on his dynamic with the Joker and is a big ‘ol actionfest.

Arkham Knight’s plot on the other hand is quite pedestrian by comparison looking at the villain plot: Scarecrow wants to take down Batman and cause chaos in Gotham and a mysterious new villain appears to help. From this standpoint, Arkham Knight is nothing special. However, as a character study of Batman, it goes much deeper than any of the previous games, and deeper even than any of the films. Most of those dealt with “Why does Bruce Wayne become Batman?” whereas Knight asks the question “What does it mean to BE Batman?”

In this respect “Be the Batman” is more than just a marketing tagline. We really delve into what makes Batman and Bruce Wayne tick and their relationships with the world, their allies, and enemies.

We’re going to delve into big spoiler territory now so be ye warned.

Batman in this game is in an interesting place. Crime is supposedly lower than ever when Scarecrow’s plan starts falling into place, yet he’s hitting criminals harder than ever, working tirelessly in his war on crime. His modifications to the Batmobile make this immediately apparent, adding numerous heavy weapons and armour. One of the unlockable Arkham stories indicates that adding more weaponry has been something Batman has fought for years, according to Lucius, but he had a change of heart some point between City and Knight. We learn soon enough that Batman is on borrowed time. His blood is still infected with Joker’s own and is actually beginning to turn him. This is his last assault on crime, one final push if a cure cannot be found. As a result, he is pushing his allies further away than ever. This alienation was seen in a small way in the epilogue DLC “Harley Quinn’s Revenge”, keeping Robin at arm’s length and mostly avoiding contact with his allies entirely.

This is one of the key themes of the whole game and, personally, if I were to choose one word to sum up Arkham Knight it would be “family”. “Asylum”, “City”, and “Origins” were all solo efforts on Batman’s part, with some input in his ear from Oracle and Alfred, and a brief appearance by Robin. This is the first game to really have the Bat-family on board proper and this really informs a lot of the game and Batman’s motivations.

He pushes them away because he knows he’s dying. He pushes them away because he wants them to get used to the idea of him being gone. Most importantly, he pushes them away because he believes this will keep them safe. This is underlined when Scarecrow’s fear toxin kicks in. Thanks to the hallucinations provided by it, we are shown two of Batman’s greatest failures in his eyes, along with his raison d’etre: the crippling of Barbara Gordon, the torture and murder of Jason Todd, and the death of his parents. The former two are clearly never far from the dark knight’s thoughts and show why he genuinely does fear for his allies safety. This ends up, in the obvious ironic twist, putting them in greater danger. By keeping them at arm’s length and withholding his plans, the Batman is a less effective force. He doesn’t consider that they are safest together, working as a team. His allies come to his rescue a couple of times during the course of the game, Nightwing saving him from Penguin’s thugs, Catwoman saving him from an unwinnable fight against The Riddler, Oracle aiding him during the defence of the GCPD and Robin not saving him per se, but defusing some of the Johnny Charisma’s bombs while Batman is unable to move.

Another key subplot is Batman vs Joker. Even after his death, through his blood and the fear toxin, Joker is resurrected as a hallucination, a dark Jiminy Cricket pestering and needling the caped crusader at every turn. This is the ultimate Joker, no less potent for not being “real”. He represents everything Batman hates and fears, because he is not only The Joker, but the darkest parts of Batman’s mind, all the what ifs, the maybe should’ves, all of this tumbles out of Joker’s mouth, taunting the dark knight with his own insecurities. It shows Batman’s human side a lot more than any previous game, shows he can be afraid, he does have doubts, can fail, can falter. This is something which clearly plays across his mind throughout the game and leads him to the ultimate conclusion of the game which I will touch on in a bit.

The Joker has always been key to the Batman mythos. He was that in Batman #1 so nearly as long as the Batman has been in existence. Having him manifest as a facet of Batman’s subconscious is both a neat narrative trick (and way to skirt the “Joker is dead” thing without cheapening the end of “City”) and a useful dynamic in explaining who Batman is. Much of his existence has been spent battling The Joker and it’s clear that there is a side of Batman in “Knight” that almost misses him in a sense. His presence also plays up the yin-yang of their relationship and eventually culminates quite literally in a battle in Batman’s psyche.

Near the game’s ending Scarecrow unmasks Batman and injects him with a heavy dose of fear toxin. This causes Joker’s personality to be brought to the fore but at the same time empowers Batman’s own power of fear, showing the clown prince of crime his own greatest nightmare: being forgotten. This is ultimately delivered personally by Batman, bursting from the shadows of his own mind and subduing the Joker side, locking him away forever, enforcing this with the time tested phrase “I am vengeance, I am the night, I am Batman.” This is said, as another blogger pointed out, as much to himself as to The Joker. This is a declaration that he is Batman, he is no longer Bruce Wayne. To paraphrase “Batman Begins”, as Bruce Wayne he can fail, be killed, and simply die, which is when we come to the ending.

Upon the final villains being rounded up he initiates the Knightfall protocol and removes his mask. This is a clear symbolic gesture as he is leaving Batman behind on the rooftop with the Batsignal and reverting to Bruce Wayne. He flies back to Wayne Manor and it explodes, destroying the whole building. It’s not made explicit but it’s fairly evident that Bruce has faked his death, very publicly killing Bruce Wayne, now that he has been revealed as the alter ego of Batman. Gordon’s narration states that “this is how the Batman died” but it’s really how Bruce Wayne died.

The final scene shows Thomas, Martha and young Bruce Wayne stand-ins walking down an alley past a theatre, visually recreating Batman’s origin. There’s a gunman, there are broken pearls, this is the birth of Batman as we remember. This time however, Batman already exists. A shadow appears on the rooftop behind the criminals, towering high before spreading shadowy wings and fiery demon eyes alighting as it swoops towards them and cuts to black. It’s clear this is more than a symbolic statement as the criminals react to this “Knightmare” and are clearly terrified. Ultimately it’s up to interpretation, but I think, either it is The Batman in his purest form, shed of the Bruce Wayne identity, free to be more than human (with the use of Scarecrow’s fear toxin apparently), or it simply a psychological manifestation. After Scarecrow’s gas flooded Gotham’s streets, perhaps the residual effects left a lingering memory of Batman that was burned into their consciousness.

Either way it’s a true and final realisation of Bruce Wayne’s goal for the Batman. To become something eternal, supernatural even, that will watch over an protect

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #403

“ashes to ashes, watch me disappear”

If given the opportunity, would you like to star in a musical? Definitely not. I don't like musicals. Name one person you’d take a bullet for: There's honestly a lot, but Mom immediately came to mind. Any posters of a band on your bedroom wall? Yeah: Metallica and Marilyn Manson currently. I want lots more, especially an Ozzy one. Do you think you’ve already met your soulmate? I don't believe in soulmates. Do you share your bedroom with anyone? No, unless you include my cat and snake. Is your favorite color yellow? No, it's actually one of my least favorites. Were you born in a hospital? I was. Do you know the name of the person that delivered you? No, but Mom does. I think he delivered me and my two sisters, and I know Mom has seen him since for other reasons. Was your birth recorded? God no. Good call, Mom. Did you eat a peach this week? Would you believe me if I told you I had a small bit of peach pie for my sister's birthday? For some reason, I just really wanted to try some. It was okay, but the aftertaste sucked. Are you leaving the house tomorrow? Yes, for TMS therapy. Every weekday. Do you enjoy romantic movies, even when they’re cliche? I honestly do. If you could get free vocal lessons would you take them? Probably not. I don't like singing in front of anyone, and it's not like I wanna get anywhere with my singing, so. Is your mother diabetic? She is. Are you? No. Ever sang someone to sleep? No. Who do you stalk the most through Facebook? Nobody. Have you ever deleted your Facebook, then brought it back? No. What is your main responsibility each day? Be sure to take my medications. Do you feel like you fulfill those responsibilities? Yeah. There are rare mornings where I forget, but I almost always remember. I don't fw skipping out on meds that keep my mental health stable. When was the last time you used spray paint? Good question. Do you know the middle name of the last person you kissed? Yep. Who is the friendliest person you know? My mom, probably. Something that annoys you about summer: THE HEAT. THE HUMIDITY. UGH. Something that annoys you about winter: Hm. That's hard to say, given I love winter. I guess the fact it doesn't snow enough here. Are the doors of your fridge side by side or on top of one another? Side-by-side. If you’ve moved out of the house you were born in, do you know the people who live in that house now? Nope. Have you ever cried in a movie theater? Not sobbed or anything, but I've definitely teared up and gotten the sniffles because of multiple movies. Do you read comic books? No. Do you force your way into conversations in which you are not involved? No. Have you ever seriously pretended to be clinically insane? I didn't need to pretend; I'm pretty damn sure I was for a while. Might I add that it's EXTREMELY inconsiderate to pretend you're insane, btw. Insanity is not "cool." It's not "funny." It's not "edgy." It's a serious, confusing, heart-wrenching issue that can ruin lives. Do you know anyone with a stutter? Yes, myself included when I'm even mildly nervous. And sometimes just randomly. With a lisp? I don't believe so. What was the last board game you played? The Disney version of "Pretty Pretty Princess" w/ my niece and even my nephew, even though his sexist-ass dad didn't want him to. Like let your kid have some fun with his sister and aunt, goddamn. They had a blast. It was Aubree's birthday present from me, so I am SO glad she loved it. Did you win? Ha ha, no, I always let Aubree or Ryder win. I came super close once, but I let the kids bend the rules a bit. They don't like losing, and even though they definitely need to understand that just happens and is totally fine for it to, I wasn't about to be the one to make them sad about it. When was the last time you tried to speak with an accent? OH MY LAAAAAWWWWWWD. Also at Aubree's b-day party, at one point, I spoke in a snobbish British accent while I was winning at the aforementioned game. Ryder asked, "Why are you speaking Spanish?", and I fuckin DIED. Have you ever made up a word before? Yeah, I know at least a few instances for fantasy animals in writing. When was the last time you went to a museum? A couple summers ago when my brother and his son visited, we went to a science museum. My nephew was sooooo into it. Do you have a nice yard? If so, do you spend a lot of time outside in it? If not, where do you go when you want to relax outdoors on nice days? Our front and back yards are both small and honestly very boring. The grass is a pretty green, but that's the only nice thing about it. I don't go to sit outside here on any day. Do your parents enjoy any of the things that you enjoy? Do you bond over these things? My parents and I have very similar music tastes, so there's that. I also didn't know for the longest time that Mom likes to write, which I sure as hell do, too! She doesn't really write anymore though, and she's self-conscious of it anyway, like I am. She and I also love a lot of the same shows. What is the movie that you have waited the longest for/which film do you remember anticipating the most/are still anticipating? I think The Incredibles 2. I aaaalways wanted to know what happened after the end of the first film. Do you have any ideas for a story or movie you’re planning to write or you’d write if you had the time/had the talent? Please share a synopsis! I genuinely think some RP I've written is series-worthy, but I don't feel like re-writing the YEARS of RP into a book format, and I sincerely worry that the ridiculously dark parts could inspire people like serial killers and cause A LOT of controversy, crime-blaming, and just general hate. I don't want to be involved in that. What is something that an interested guy/girl could comment about you, that would make you instantly open to them (e.g., “That book you’re reading is from my favorite author”)? Compliment my Markiplier tattoo, obviously knowing it's a tribute to him, and we're essentially besties. Is there a person in your life (maybe barely) that you feel in constant competition with (even just in your imagination)? Maybe you feel they are consistently outshining you? Ugh... there's a local photographer that's much more successful than I am that I admittedly am very envious of. I swear to whatever god you may believe in that I mean it from a modest perspective, I really, really do, but I genuinely think my skills surpasses hers, and she's only more prevalent because photography REALLY is about who you know. She's talented, yes, but like... come on. If you are single, even if you are normally happily single, are there certain specific things you witness that make you wish you were in a relationship (e.g., people getting engaged)? I mean yeah. I miss cuddling, holding hands, kissing, just being cute together, and especially people getting engaged or having kids. It's such a trigger to me. Once upon a time, that's all I wanted with Jason. I wanted to be that beautiful couple that got married and had two or three loved-beyond-words children, but then he left so abruptly, and I feel like it was so brutally robbed from me. I don't want kids anymore like at all, but the point still stands that I felt like my dreams were just ripped away. Out of all your usernames for websites, which one is your favorite? Do you use it for more than one site? I use "Ozzkat" just about everywhere. Have you ever spent the whole day (or multiple days) just looking up one thing on the internet (e.g., videos of your favorite band, how-to videos, quizzes, etc.)? OHHHHHHHHHH YEAH. There have been a couple days or so where I was totally glued to looking up various tattoo designs, bingeing let's plays or conspiracy theory videos, etc. etc. If you ever think about getting married, what are some aspects of the wedding that you would like to see in a non-traditional manner (e.g., a different color dress or “partners” over “husband” and “wife”)? I WILL NOT get married in a church, first of all. I'm also not having the traditional vows, and I probably won't wear a white dress, but instead black. Salt & vinegar, barbecue, sour cream & onion, or cheddar? Ohhhh, I like all those options but barbecue. I think I've gotta go with sour cream & onion, though. Bow ties on guys, dorky or adorable? A D O R A B L E ! ! ! I think they're ordinarily geeky, but I mean, geeky is cute in my world. :^) Do you believe in demonic possession? How about ghosts? Angels? Angels, no. Spirits/ghosts, 100%. I don't exactly believe in demons, per se, but I do question if evil spirits can possess someone. What is one romantic movie that you enjoy enough to watch more than once? I've seen The Notebook numerous times. Name three countries you want to visit; why those three? South Africa to interact with meerkats at the KMP, somewhere up in Canada to see the Northern Lights, and Germany just because, really. I took German for four semesters, and the culture and all just interests me. Do you have a good luck charm? No, considering I don't believe they do jack. Do you use Skype to talk to your friends? Only Sara. Now that I have Discord semi-figured out now though, we'll probably use that for voice chatting. Are you allergic to any animals? I might be allergic to dogs. Do you usually spend your weekends out, or at home? I'm like... always at home. Do you think it’s wrong for people to say "retard/retarded" as an insult? Absofuckinglutely. Don't pull that shit when I'm around. Have you ever had to go to the police department? No. Have you ever lived through a hurricane? Plenty. Have you ever had a home-grown tomato? Yes, from my old friend's garden. We'd have delicious tomato, mayo, and bacon sandwiches. The only instance where I've enjoyed tomatoes. Have you ever held a real gun? The former friend I mentioned just before, her husband always carried a gun, and he just needed me to hold it for a sec for some reason I don't recall. I hated the feeling. Would you rather wear Converse or Vans? I like both, but I think I prefer Converse. Have you ever been called bipolar? Yes, because I clinically am. Have you ever made fun of a handicapped person? FUCK no. And like the "retarded" thing, don't you fucking DARE to do this in front of me. I WILL deck the shit out of you. Do you think it’s okay to have sex before marriage? Sure, as long as you're being safe and are very thorough in communication. Do you like to watch old sitcoms? I don't really watch TV as I say in like every survey it seems, but I do enjoy some old sitcoms I grew up watching with my mom, like The Nanny, The Golden Girls, The Munsters, etc. If asked, could you run a mile nonstop right now? Being completely serious, I don't even know if I CAN physically run right now. My legs are so incredibly weak, and I'm humiliatingly close to what my heaviest weight was back in 2016, so I can almost guarantee my knees would crumple if I tried. Do you wear those rubber wristbands? I used to. I don't really like bracelets nowadays. If a necklace/ring gives you green marks, do you still wear it? Nope. Have you ever driven an electric car? No. When was the last time you saw someone you went to high school with? Uhhhh idk. What breed was the last dog you saw? A fucking GOLIATH of a lab. I shit you not when I say my sister's roommate's dog Hudson is the size of a goddamn bear. How long have your parents been together (or how long were they together, if they no longer are): I wanna say they were together at the very least 20 years. What has been your most epic cooking failure? I once accidentally put something (I don't remember what) in the microwave for around 45 minutes I believe, and I walked away and completely forgot about it. I remembered a long while later, and safe to say, it wasn't edible, whatever it was, lmao. Have you ever been to Mexico? No. Have you ever had a parrot sit on your shoulder? No, but that'd be cool. Has anyone in your life ever treated you abusively? No. How long has it been since your last breakup? Somewhere around two years ago? My memory is so garbage nowadays. Can you concentrate well while listening to music, or do you find it distracting? It's distracting, usually. What’s something you’ve been struggling with lately? I've been pretty bad about drinking too much soda lately. :/

[insertdeeplyrics]

The new guy

Hello! Well, here you have it, my first Destiel fanfic! I plan to write more, but I wanted this share this one first, as it has been sitting on my computer for around two years. Sorry if it sucks!  Also, any type of feedback is appreciated, as I want to improve my writing skills (which are quite rusty hehehe). Finally, if there are any grammatical mistakes or expressions that are a bit off, I apologize, English is not my first language. I hope you like it! :)

It was Dean’s first day at the force after spending six months away undercover to take out a drug ring. He had been dreaming about this day for ages, not being able to have any contact with his family or friends was difficult enough on its own, but to spend the best part of his time stuck with criminals was just plain torture. Besides, he was not big on changes, he liked stability and routines, that’s the main reason why he avoided going undercover unless there was no other option left. He spent all morning carefully choosing his outfit, trying to feel more like himself than he had been these past few months. As he opened the closet, he quickly spotted his favorite shirt: the light blue one that his mother gave him for his birthday three years ago and that made his green eyes pop. He remembered he used to wear a dark blue tie with it, alongside some grey dress pants, so he went ahead and put the outfit together. He took the badge from his bedside table, wearing it like a necklace. After he left the house, he took a quick glance at himself in the mirror as a small smile crept upon his lips: he might still feel like Jason Damien on the inside, but he sure as hell nailed the Dean Winchester look. Perhaps if he cut that ridiculously long sandy blonde mane he was forced to grow out, he would retrieve a little part of himself.

The drive to the precinct was a rather intense one, as all of Dean’s anxiety started to kick in. What if his partners didn’t recognize him? Or what if any of them had had an accident while on duty and they were gone? What if the precinct was different? What if he was different? Dean rushed through the busy streets of New York, almost running a couple of the red lights. After fifteen minutes of car horns, some blasphemies and taking a wrong turn, he arrived at the 99th precinct. He barely even made it to the elevator, which was closing its doors when Dean arrived. Luckily, one of the men inside noticed the panic in his face and held it open for a few seconds. Dean sent him a grateful look and a quick smile and then proceeded to stress over how he was going to react when he finally saw his friends after some long, hard six months. As soon as the doors of the elevator opened, revealing the second floor of the 99th precinct, he was instantly filled with a sense of relief: everything still looked the same. People were going back and forth all over the office, a phone always ringing on the background, some officers taking statements or locking up some crook. In the middle of the office were his colleagues standing in a circle with their backs turned from him. Not quite the welcome he was expecting. He walked towards them, his heart pounding. Once he was close enough, he noticed a man amongst the group, around whom the circle was created. By the quick glance he took, he saw that the unknown man had raven black hair and a tall and well-built frame.

“Hey, guys! Look who’s back!”, shouted Charlie as soon as she saw the sandy blond man. Everyone turned their attention to Dean, who was instantly tackled with hugs and words of relief and happiness. He didn’t even have time to properly process the situation.

“Oh, how stupid of us!” said Charlie while he was still caught in a whirlwind of people. “Let me introduce you to C. J. Novak —He has been transferred from the 96.” Dean was still a bit disoriented due to the overwhelming welcome, but something changed in him when he was met with the blue-eyed man who was leaning on Detective Rogers’ desk, observing the scene with his hands in his pockets. Now that he was closer to him, Dean noticed he had piercing blue eyes, rather chapped lips, a squared jaw and a five o’clock shadow. He was wearing a white buttoned up shirt that hinted at his worked-out body, as well as some black suit pants.

Dean stretched his arm and put his hand out for C. J. to shake. “Dean Winchester”

“So I’ve heard. Pleasure to meet you.” He had a deep voice, which took Dean by surprise. They didn’t break eye contact once while they were shaking hands. He didn’t feel quite right about the new guy, there was something about him that made him uneasy. For the few seconds —that felt like ages— that the handshake lasted, Dean forgot that there were people around them. He was too distracted by the man’s eyes and trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with him. Tension started to build up between the two detectives, the atmosphere notably shifting to a dense and heavy one.

“Winchester, good to have you back!” the tall and broad frame of his boss, Captain Singer, appeared in front of him, forcing him to remove his green eyes from the new guy. The tension evaporated, and Dean found himself releasing the breath he didn’t know he was holding. “If you don’t mind, I would like to see you in my office.”

“See you guys later” Dean took a last glance to the new guy before he followed the older man to his office.

On the way there, he ran into some co-workers who quickly greeted him and congratulated him for the success of his mission. Once they reached their destination, just a few steps away from the elevator, the Captain closed the door and motioned him to sit down on the chair in front of his desk.

“Winchester, it’s a pleasure to have you back on the team. I know how hard it can be to go undercover, but it really pays off: The Lockwood family has been finally sent to jail thanks to your inside information. You are one of our best detectives.”

“Thank you, sir. All I want to do is go back to my regular job and move on.”

“About that” Captain Singer paused, avoiding eye contact. Dean had been working with the older man long enough to know what it meant. “There had been some changes around here while you were gone.”

There it was. Ever since he saw the new guy, he knew that something was off and that he wouldn’t be the only thing new around here.

“A few of your colleagues have been forced to leave the force due to getting hurt while on duty, Detectives Rogers and Joseph. I know you had worked with them on numerous cases, so I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news. I am also sad to inform you that Detective Masters passed away a few weeks after you left. She was trying to stop a mugging and, while she was chasing the criminal, she suffered a heart attack from which she never recovered. I’m only telling you this because I know how close you two were. Sorry, Dean”.

The news hit him hard. The only thing he could do was just to remain silent, his eyes fixed on the carpeted floor of Captain Singer’s office, trying to process all the information. Hearing about Detective Rogers and Joseph was a bitter pill to swallow, but he comforted himself thinking that at least they were alive, but Detective Masters was a different story. She was the first partner he ever had, the one with whom he worked his first case. It was she who showed him the ropes, who taught him how to be a competent detective. Before leaving, Dean had the hardest time saying goodbye to her.

“I’m sorry” said the Captain. “I understand it’s a lot to digest.” Dean nodded his head, attempting to swallow the lump on his throat. He stayed in silence for a few more seconds, trying to compose himself a little bit.

“Thank you for telling me, Captain.” Singer’s features softened.

“Anyway, I won’t hold you any longer, you can go back to work. And Winchester, once again, good job.” He dedicated him a small smile before burying his head in a never-ending-pile of files.

Once Dean got back to his desk, he retrieved that sense of familiarity that got lost during his conversation with the Captain. Everything was exactly how he left it, his pencil holder sitting at the far left corner of his desk, filled mostly with blue pens and a few pencils that were halfway down their size, some paper clips and rubber bands scattered next to it, the picture of him and his brother Sam on their very first trip to New York on the opposite corner and the all-too-familiar folder full of cases neatly stacked at the side.  Dean smiled to himself: things were still the same. His smile was quickly turned into a furrow when he saw the blue-eyed man from before plop down on the desk right in front of him.

“You’re not Charlie” Dean thought at loud when he saw his partner, taken aback by the sudden intrusion.

“And you’re not Brad Pitt, but I guess we’ll have to make do” the comment took him by surprise. Now he was a hundred percent convinced he didn’t like the guy. “They promoted Detective Bradbury a few months ago, so they moved her to the third floor.”

“She got promoted? That’s good to hear!”

“Yes, it was big news around here. The celebration party was insane.”

“You threw a party?” Dean asked quietly, a pang of jealousy spreading through his chest. He knew it wasn’t fair to feel upset by that, after all, he was undercover, and he couldn’t reach out to anyone.

“Of course! She has been working hard for years to become a Sargent!” C. J. Novak huffed.

“Exactly how long have you been working here?” Dean asked, unable to keep his anger from showing.

 Weeks passed and Dean was now more convinced than ever that the chances of the new guy —he refused to acknowledge that he had been around for more than a few weeks— and him becoming friends were zero to none. Ever since the first day, Dean felt suspicious of him, which lead to becoming surly whenever C. J. was around, which was all the time given that they sat in front of each other. Perhaps some of his negative energy rubbed onto his partner, because, soon enough, Novak started being standoffish. The atmosphere surrounding their desks was almost too heavy for anyone to handle, so they steered away from the negative environment the two men managed to create. That they were practically at daggers dawn took Dean’s friends by surprise, since they knew them both and thought they would have gotten on like a house on fire by now. And every time they asked the sandy blond why he disliked the blue-eyed detective so much, he was at a loss of words. He didn’t know why C. J. got on his nerves so much, all he knew is that he did and that was a good enough reason to not give him the time of the day.

But it all changed once they worked their first case together. Up until that point, they had managed to avoid doing anything together, Dean making the most efforts to dodge the situation. But this time, there was no way out: Captain Singer was tired of the excuses he kept coming out with and gave him the order to work with Detective Novak.

“So, there was no way to talk Captain Singer out of this.” Dean walked to C. J. and threw the file on his desk. He received a long sigh from his partner.

“So, what do we do?”

“I guess we go check the crime scene” replied the green-eyed man with resignation.

Rather hesitantly, they got into a police car and hit the road. C. J. read through the file, since his partner barely gave him time to even see what the case was about at the precinct. The atmosphere in the car was tense, Dean had his jaw clenched and he focused on the road, trying his best to forget that another person was in the car with him.

“So, stabbed through the heart at a dentist office.” C. J. tried to make the air lighter, aiming for small talk. At his partner’s silent response, he went on talking. “No murder weapon and only just one witness, it sure looks interesting. What do you think?”

“I think you should stop talking. Look, I don’t think neither of us is happy with this situation, so let’s get this over with as soon as possible. No small talk, no trying to socialize with each other. I hope this is just a one-time thing, so let’s just stick strictly to business, okay?” C. J. looked at him, frustration clear in his eyes and resumed to sit in silence while gazing out the window.

Ten minutes later, they arrived at the dentist office where the crime was committed. Surprisingly enough, the office floor was completely clean, and if it weren’t for the dead body in the middle of the room, it would be impossible to know that someone had been a murdered. The corpse was lying on his back, a stab wound on his chest. Some other officers were already there, taking pictures and examining the crime scene. The witness, a middle-aged woman with short black hair was waiting outside the office, fidgeting with her hands and her gaze fixed on the entrance door.

“Detectives Winchester and Novak, NYPD. Are you Ruby Campbell?”

“Yes, I am.” C. J. took a notepad and a pen out of his jacket to take her testimony, which earned him a dirty look from Dean.

“So, what can you tell us about last night? When did you find the body?” asked the dark-haired detective with his deep voice, which made Dean’s blood boil for whatever reason.

“I’m the receptionist here. I usually help Doctor Jason close, but I had to leave early because it was my daughter’s school play. When I came to work this morning, I saw that his car was still parked, which caught my attention since he was supposed to leave today to visit his family in Detroit. I went to his office and found him dead on the floor.” The woman told her story with tears in her eyes, and her voice broke a couple of times while she was narrating the events.

C. J. wrote everything down on his notepad and comforted the witness, showing tremendous care and tenderness, which became too much for Dean, who excused himself and went to check the body while his partner made further questions.

“What are your thoughts on the crime scene, Detective Winchester?” asked Detective Novak in a serious tone, trying to engage in a professional conversation.

Dean, who tried to ignore the chills he got when he heard his partner’s deep voice address him as ‘Detective Winchester’, angered at the fact that the other man was still willing to have a conversation with him. He gripped the steering wheel even harder, his knuckles turning white.

“The witness can be ruled out, her alibi checks out, I looked at the security cameras.” The blue-eyed man read through his notes, resolved in carrying on with the conversation even if his partner was giving him the cold shoulder. “What we have to do when we arrive at the precinct is to call the victim’s family, they probably are still waiting for him to show up in Detroit.”

“Just shut up!” roared Dean, unable to take the sound of his voice anymore. “This is hard enough; you don’t have to fill the silence with whatever comes to your mind. I don’t give a rat’s ass about your stupid thoughts and theories on the case. I know we have to work this thing together, but I swear to God, if I have to hear another word come out of your mouth, I’m leaving this car.” He took a quick glance at his partner, who had a furrowed brow and his hands turned into fists.

“Stop the car” Detective Novak said quietly.

“What?” asked Dean in disbelief.

“STOP THE DAMN CAR.” Intimidated by his partner reaction, the green-eyed detective pulled up at the side of the road. “We’ve been working this case for less than three hours and you have been nothing but hell on wheels!” yelled C. J., looking directly into his green eyes. “Look, I don’t care if you have been nothing but a dick to me, even if I had been nothing but nice to you ever since you came back; I’m fine with you bossing me around as if I were your fucking assistant, but what I won’t tolerate is you putting my professional integrity on the line. Whether you like it or not, we are working this case together, so swallow your damn pride, because we are talking murder here, Dean, there’s too much at stake. So, stop behaving like a damn child and start acting like the great detective everyone claims you are.”

Dean was speechless. Once he composed himself from the original shock, he got angrier than before. He knew damn well that he was being more than unfair to C. J., and he hated to admit that the other detective was right. So, he shot him a dirty look, which gained him an exasperated sigh from the blue-eyed detective and drove back to the precinct.

Once they arrived at the office, their tension and bad temper spread through the whole room, like a dark cloud blocking the sun rays, letting everyone know that a storm was coming. The always busy and noisy precinct turned silent, as if afraid to set one of them off. Everyone steered clear of the two detectives, who went their separate ways as quickly as possible, sick of the other’s company. Dean went straight to the coffee room, in desperate need of caffeine to get through the rest of the day, while C. J. went to his desk to start with the paperwork. After twenty minutes, Dean had calmed down enough to go back to work. However, as he was about to leave, a furious Charlie approached him, forcing him to stay in the coffee room.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Winchester?!” she yelled, poking his chest with her finger, while Dean was left with his arms up in the air in defense. “I’ve just talked to C. J. and he has told me about how much of an asshole you have been to him. At first, I thought you were being salty about this whole new partner thing, but this has gone way too far. Pull your head out of your ass, apologize to C. J., and work the damn case.” As she spoke, she got up in Dean’s personal space, until he was backed into a wall, her finger never leaving his chest. Charlie could be intimidating when she put her mind to it. She sent him one last threating look and stormed out the room.

As soon as he processed Charlie’s threat, he straightened himself up and returned to his desk. It bothered him to admit that they were both right, he was well aware of being unreasonable and unfair, but he just couldn’t do anything about how he felt about the guy, he still had this weird feeling about him. However, for everyone’s sake, he decided to put his feelings aside and work the damn case. The sooner he ripped the band-aid off, the better.

He set a cup of coffee on Detective Novak’s desk, who looked up from his computer screen and eyed the beverage confused.

“Consider it a peace offering”, said Dean flatly, as he himself started his computer up, hiding behind its screen while peering from the corner of his eye his partner’s reaction. The other detective looked intermittently at him and the cup, still suspicious of the whole affair, until he finally caved in and took a sip of the coffee.

At first, they exchanged short and to-the-point sentences, a lot of formality still surrounding them. But as the case progressed and they were forced to stay late at night, they evolved from being at arm’s length, to getting along, some would even say they even became friendly. It was during those nights that the two of them bonded, which left Dean wondering why he had been so rude towards the other man for such a long time. By the end of the case, they were both as thick as thieves.

 “Heya, Angel” Dean greeted the dark-haired man as he set a cup of coffee on his desk, a custom he had adopted since they had buried the hatchet.

“How long are you going to keep calling me that?”

“What, you don’t like it? Would you rather I called you Castiel, the angel of Thursday?” replied amused, a playful grin on his face.

“I knew it was a bad idea to tell you my name” said C. J., obviously fed up with the nickname his colleague had decided to give him. Dean just laughed.

“Anyway, I was just dropping by to bring you your coffee. Charlie found a lead on a case she has been working on for weeks and she asked me to be her back-up, so we’re leaving in a few minutes. Any advice?” asked the sandy blond man while leaning against C. J.’s desk, with no intention at all to leave.

“A few: don’t piss Charlie off, follow her every order and listen to her. Oh, and don’t get shot again, I would hate to lose my drink slave. I forgot how life is like when you have to get coffee for yourself.”

“First of all, I technically didn’t get shot last time, a bullet grazed my arm. But don’t worry, you’re not getting rid of me so easily.” Dean winked at his partner, who started blushing. “Though, getting shot doesn’t sound that bad, I might do it again.” He moved closer to the dark-haired man, a hint of amusement in his voice. “I mean, it was really cute seeing how worried you were and how much you took care of me. Also, I heard scars make you more attractive. Perhaps you should get one yourself, that way you could get laid.”

“You know what, Winchester, blow me” C. J. rolled his eyes, trying to remember why he was still friends with such an idiot.

“Don’t mind if I do.” Blushing, the detective punched him playfully in the arm while Dean just laughed.

“Hey, Winchester! What the hell, man? I’ve been waiting ten minutes for you in the car! Stop flirting with Novak and let’s go!” yelled Charlie from the elevator, anger spilling from her voice.

“Gotta go, duty calls” Dean got up from his partner’s desk, putting a hand on his chest, while looking up, trying to add dramatism to the situation, which gained him a snort from his co-worker.

“I meant what I said earlier, Dean! Be careful!” shouted C. J. as his partner was approaching the elevator and meeting with the redheaded detective. He turned around and blew him a kiss. C. J. just rolled his eyes and went back to his work.

“Asshole” muttered under his breath, while a small smile made its way onto his lips.

 “What was all that about, Dean?” asked Charlie once they were on their way to a drugstore, the last place Charlie’s suspect had been seen.

“What do you mean?”

“Do I really need to explain it?” her tone full of exasperation. She was met with the dumbfounded expression of her colleague, forcing her to go on. “The non-stop flirting? The long-lasting eye sex? The heart-eyes you give each other when the other is not looking?”

“Oh, that” Dean suddenly felt shy and awkward. “It’s nothing. You know that I like flirting and C. J.'s so easy to mess with… Besides, I don’t swing that way.” The last comment got a snort from the redhead.

“Yeah, you’re as straight a circle, honey” she muttered under her breath.

“What?”

“Nothing”

“No, I heard you mumbling. What do you have to say?” Dean pressed on.

Charlie remained silent for a few seconds, debating whether she should speak or not.

“Well, this is probably not my place to say and this is something you’re supposed to figure out on your own, but it seems like you need a nudge in the right direction.” She paused, choosing her words carefully in order not to sound rude or patronizing.

“I’m not following” said Dean, confused. His whole body suddenly became tense. He could hear his heart beating in his head.

“Do you remember Lisa?”

“Of course, we dated for three years. But I don’t know what she has to do with any of this.”

“Remember his brother, the one you had a major crush on? Don’t even try to deny it”, she stopped him, seeing Dean was already opening his mouth in defense, “you might have played it off as admiring him for being a firefighter, but man, you couldn’t stop staring at him when he was around, completely ignoring your then girlfriend. You were drooling after him! She even stopped including him in our plans when you were around.”

Dean chewed his bottom lip as he remembered how the aforementioned girlfriend broke up with him, her words engraved in his mind: ‘You have some stuff to figure out, until then, I don’t think you can fully love me.’ He thought she meant something completely different, given that during the last years of their relationship, he was in a dark place and all she wanted was for him to get his shit together.

“And last year’s Christmas party? You probably won’t remember this because you were pretty wasted, but you spent all night flirting with the male bartender, with whom you ended up making out by closing time.”

“I don’t remember that” said the green-eyed detective, his voice small.

“Of course you don’t! You practically drank yourself senseless!” scoffed the redhead. “And now C. J. and your initial so-called hatred for the poor guy. I mean, I spent endless coffee breaks hearing you ramble on and on about him and how much he got into your nerves for doing the littlest of things that no one even noticed. And then you guys declared a truce and began flirting like crazy, getting to a point where everyone tries to avoid you two, because you guys are so chummy, that anyone who is with you two instantly feels like they are third-wheeling.” Dean felt his cheeks burn, as he bowed his head down, looking at his hands, ashamed.

“What are trying to say? That I am gay?” he quietly asked, trying to make sense of what Charlie was throwing his way.

“Well, that’s something you need to figure out,” she said in a much softer tone, “And you know that whatever happens, we’ll always have your back, right?” he just nodded, still trying to process everything, his gaze still fixed on his hands.

 After the heart to heart with Charlie, Dean felt more self-conscious around C. J. He toned down his flirting, which got the other man confused, who had already gotten used to his partner’s overly confident, snarky, and teasing remarks. Dean was also more distracted at work, usually messing up various forms and spacing out during coffee breaks or at lunch, not really listening to his partners’ stories of whatever arrest they had made that day. Those subtle changes didn’t go over C. J.’s head, who started worrying if something of a greater scale had happened to his desk partner.

 “Hey, Dean-o” greeted C. J., who bumped into him on the coffee room.

“Hey.” Replied the other man softly, not really looking up from his cup of coffee, deep in thought.

“So, how are you?” the dark-haired detective sat down on the chair next to him.

“Fine, I guess.” Dean started playing with the plastic stick, stirring his coffee.

“Is there something bothering you, Dean?” C. J. placed his hand on the other man’s forearm, making him look up from his coffee and directing his green eyes on Novak’s hand placement. “You seem off these days.”

“It’s just that I have recently found something and I’m still trying to wrap my head around it.”

“Well, if there’s anything I can do to help…”

“You have done more than you think.” Dean finally looked him in the eyes and offered him a genuine smile, which gained him another from his partner, easing his worries.

In that moment, Dean realized how hopelessly in love he was with C. J. Novak. He had spent these past few months not only trying to embrace his new-found bisexuality, but also figuring out how he felt about the deep-voiced detective. He initially thought he had a crush and that it would eventually go away, but seeing that he failed to stay away from his partner long enough to get over his stupid infatuation, he realized that it was probably bigger than he had deemed it at first. Still, he was new to all this consciously-flirting-with-guys thing, so he didn’t really know how to express his feelings to him. Besides, there was also the chance that C. J. wasn’t into dudes, so Dean decided that it was better to not act on his feelings and be content with giving him longing looks from behind the computer when the other detective wasn’t looking. It took some more weeks and a lot of soul-searching and awkward family conversations for Dean to finally build up enough courage to go back to their original aggressive flirting, which C. J. received with a smile and a ‘that’s the Winchester I know’. It wasn’t until he eavesdropped on one of C. J.’s phone calls to his sister and he made a passing comment about his previous boyfriend that Dean decided to ask the guy out, as Charlie was so adamant about every time the subject was brought up.

“Morning, sunshine!” like every morning, Dean set the coffee on his partner’s desk while he leaned against it. “Wow, you look like crap.” C. J. had dark circles around his eyes, droopy eyelids, and black strands of hair were sticking out in every direction.

“Gee, thanks Dean, you look stunning as always.” The sandy blond detective was sure that C. J. would’ve rolled his eyes if it weren’t because he was so tired. Instead, he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Rough night?”

“Yeah” the blue-eyed detective sighed. “My neighbors recently had a baby, and she spent all night crying her lungs out. I barely got any sleep” as in cue, a yawn made its appearance.

“If you want to hit the sack on the break room, I won’t tell anyone. Maybe I’ll even join you, I’ve been told I make a great big spoon” said Dean proudly, moving closer to his colleague.

“Oh, Winchester, ever the tease. Tell me, do you actually plan on following through with all the propositions you have been making me all these months?” C. J. blurted out, leaving Dean speechless.

This isn’t exactly how he had expected to ask the man out, he was waiting for the perfect moment, like going to a shootout and after almost losing his life, he would return to the precinct and C. J. would run to his arms and probably then Dean would have enough courage to ask him on a date. But then again, in his head they were already married with two children, a dog, and a house in the suburbs. So, this was as good a moment as any.

“I am. In fact, how do you feel about dinner tonight at my place? Not to brag, but Charlie has remarked several times that my cooking skills are out of this world.” He tried to sound nonchalant and suave, but a sudden tremble on his voice and the constant fidgeting with his hands gave him away.

“Wait, are you serious? Are you asking me on a date?” C. J. shot his head up and looked at the sandy blonde man, who quickly glanced at him before returning his gaze to the floor, his head bowed down.

“I mean, if that’s what you want.” A smile appeared on C. J.’s face; any trace of tiredness erased from his features.

“Fucking finally” muttered the blue-eyed man. He took Dean’s red tie in his hand and pulled it, forcing the other man to bend forward, planting a kiss on his lips.

Everything leading up to it happened in slow motion for Dean. A million thoughts were rushing through his mind, when he suddenly felt a strong grip on his tie, and then before he knew it, detective Novak’s lips were on his own. It took him a few seconds to take in what was happening, but when he did, he gave into the kiss. When they pulled away, Dean was left dumbfounded, still not a hundred percent sure that if what just happened was real.

“So, tonight at 7.30?” was all that the green-eyed detective managed to stammer out. The other detective laughed, looking him with tender eyes.

“Yeah, I think I can make it.” They smiled at each other. “What took you so long?”

“I don’t know” replied Dean genuinely, going in for another kiss.

[siren-queen-imagines]

Waiting...

I’m going through the Wayback Machine and bringing over some fics that I wrote when I was imaginingwwesuperstars!! Well, at least what they have archived...and has been edited since the original post...I hope you enjoy!!

Masterlist

You sat in your dressing room, waiting on word of Finn’s arrival. He and the guys thought it would be a good idea to have his bachelor party last night and they still haven’t gotten back. You were dressed, completely ready to go for your wedding, which was supposed to start in 20 minutes. Finn promised you he’d be back early this morning and you called him numerous times since then. You called Kevin, you called Sami, Shinsuke…no one answered. You couldn’t be blamed for being worried. Was he gonna show up at all? Are you sitting here, waiting like a fool for Finn to show up when he most likely won’t?

“I know that look.” Becky said, taking the seat next to you. 

“Don’t think that way. He’ll be here.”

“What if he isn’t, Becky?” You asked, letting out a sigh.

“He will be. Finn loves you to death, Y/N. He would never leave you hanging.”

You sighed again, giving Becky a small, closed mouth smile. Becky grabbed your hand and held it in hers.

“Don’t worry. He will be here. I know he will.” Becky continued.

=================================

You and Finn were in the UK for the NXT tour. You were a makeup artist for the girls while he was the NXT Champion who had been dating for 4 years. You met while he lived in Japan and you were on vacation with some of your guy friends, all of whom convinced you to go to an NJPW show.

You moved to Japan to be with him after a year of a long distance relationship. You still sometimes couldn’t help but wonder how you made it work…but you somehow did. Although lately Finn has been acting really weird. He’s been quieter than usual and he seemed to be avoiding you for some reason. It may be stupid but it’s been making you question things about your relationship…like did he still want to be with you? Oh god...maybe that’s why he was acting weird. Maybe he wanted to break up with you and he just didn’t know how to break the news so he decided to avoid you and maybe you’d get the hint.

With a sigh, you got out of the car to get ready to visit the Tower of London. You were with Finn, Bayley, Alexa Bliss, Baron Corbin, Chad Gable and Jason Jordan. As you all took in the sights, Finn pulled you aside, looking nervous.

Oh crap, was he really gonna do this here? Was this really the best time?

“Look, Y/N, there’s something I need to tell you. I think you’re amazing and I’ve really enjoyed the last 4 years together. They’ve been the best of my life. I love you so much but we need to make a change in this relationship.” Finn said, taking in a deep breath nervously.

This was it. Here it comes. He was gonna break up with you. You closed your eyes, preparing yourself for what was next with a deep breath. When you open them, you see Finn on one knee. Oh my god.

“I want to change your last name. I want to change everything. Y/N, I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” Finn pulled a small velvet blue box, opening it to reveal the most beautiful diamond ring you had ever seen. “Y/N, will you marry me?”

Oh my god. Everything started to make sense now. He wanted to marry you, that’s why he was nervous. That’s why he was acting funny. Oh my god!

“Yes!” You exclaimed.

=================================

You looked at the clock on the wall.

Five minutes.

You had five minutes before the ceremony started. You quickly wiped the tear the fell from your eye as you realized that you were most likely going out there to tell your friends and family that the wedding was off.You took a deep breath, looking over to Becky, and stood up. Becky stood up and keeping hold of your hand, preparing to go with you.

Months and months of planning…years of loving Finn...all down the drain.

You picked up the front of your dress, mentally preparing what you were going to say, when a loud knock sounded on the door. Your heart leapt as Sami peeked his head into the door.

“Hey, sorry we’re…whoa, look at you!” Sami said, deciding to come in the room. “God, Y/N, you look beautiful.”

“Thank you, Sami.” You replied with a relieved smile. “Finn here?”

“Yeah, yeah. Again, Sorry we’re late. Some of us drank too much and spent most of the morning hungover, so we left really late. But he’s here and he’ll be good to go. He just needs a few extra minutes to get changed.”

You nodded and smiled, still relieved that Finn didn’t ditch you. How dare you doubt him?

Either way...this wedding was happening!

=================================

You sat in the bathroom, looking at the little stick in your hand. That little pink plus sign seemed to keep mocking you.

You were pregnant. 

This should be no surprise considering how much you and Finn have enjoyed being married. But you were literally three months into your marriage and this couldn’t be happening now.

Finn had just been drafted to Raw and he was set to battle Seth Rollins at Summerslam for the WWE Universal Championship. You knew he couldn’t afford the distraction now. What were you gonna do? It’s not like you could change, nor would you want to change, what happened. Despite your initial feelings in the beginning, you were happy. But would Finn feel the same way?There was a knock on the bathroom door, causing you to come back to reality.

“Y/N? You okay, you’ve been in there for a while.” Finn’s voice gently called from the other side.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I’m just not feeling too well.” You replied, going over to your toiletry bag and hiding the test in there.

With a sigh you threw the box into the trash can grabbing some toilet paper and throwing it over the test. You stood back for a moment, looking at the trash can, finding your hiding of the evidence good enough. You went to the door and opened it, revealing a worried Finn on the other side.

“You’re still feeling sick, love?”

You gently nodded, letting Finn wrap his arms around you as you wrapped around his waist.

=================================

The next morning, you and Finn were getting ready for Raw in Anaheim. You packed up the remaining of your clothes when Finn walked out of the bathroom.

“Y/N.” Finn called out, holding up the box in his hand as he leaned against the wall. “Do you have something to tell me?”

Your stomach dropped as you stared at the box of your pregnancy test. 

“I’m sorry.” Was all you could say.

“How long have you suspected your were pregnant?”

“About a week. I took that last night and it confirmed it.” You said, opening your suitcase back up and grabbing the test from your toiletry bag.

Finn took it from you and looked at the little pink plus sign.

“Were you gonna tell me?” Finn asked after a moment.

“Of course I was. I was just…kinda scared to do it last night.”

“Why?” Curiosity filled Finn’s eyes as he looked at you.

You sighed and sat down on the bed. 

“Things have been so great career wise. I was scared that…what if you weren’t happy? This baby is gonna change things.”

“Oh, Y/N.” Finn sighed, sitting down next to you, putting the box and test behind the both of you. “Yes, a baby is gonna change things.” He shrugged before taking your hands in his. “But it’s gonna be for the better. We made a baby, my love. I couldn’t be happier.”

“Really?”

“Yes! Baby, you just told me that I’m gonna be a dad. We’re having a baby!”

Finn smiled at you brightly, cupping the side of your face. His eyes shined with unshed tears but told you everything you needed to know. Finn was happy...and you were gonna be parents.

[creepingsharia]

Islamic call to sharia prayer broadcast from mosques in cities across southern California

The Islamization of America is well under way. And it will only get worse with open borders. Future generations - particularly girls and women - will ask why you sat idly by and allowed this to happen. VIDEO HERE.

PS: The mosque highlighted in this LA Times puff piece is linked to the 9/11 attacks. Read: Saudi at Culver City mosque linked to 9/11 attack

The call to prayer rang out at 7:49 on a Saturday evening as the sky glowed pink from the setting sun.

Mahmood Nadvi, standing on the rooftop, delivers the adhan, the Islamic call to prayer, at King Fahad Mosque in Culver City. Amid the pandemic lockdown, many mosques in Southern California got permission from local authorities to broadcast the adhan during Ramadan, the holiest month in the Islamic calendar. (Irfan Khan / Los Angeles Times)

Women in hijabs and masks gazed up at the mosque as the Arabic hymn floated down:

Allah is the greatest.

I bear witness that there is none worthy of worship except Allah.

Mahmood Nadvi stood on King Fahad Mosque’s roof, 60 feet above the street, nearly level with the palm trees, singing into a handheld microphone.

For over 1,000 years, Muslims have relied on the human voice to call the faithful to prayer. It’s become tradition that wherever a mosque is built, there is a place for the muezzin, or prayer caller, said Aslam Abdullah, a Muslim scholar based in San Bernardino.

While the adhan echoes five times a day in Islamic countries, like a Roman Catholic church bell signaling Mass, it is unusual to hear the adhan publicly broadcast in the U.S., where it is more likely to be heard in Hollywood movies.

People stop in their tracks to watch Mahmood Nadvi deliver the Islamic call to prayer from the roof of King Fahad Mosque in Culver City. (Irfan Khan / Los Angeles Times)

Which is what made the scene in a Culver City neighborhood, near a gun shop and a church with a sign reading “Jesus Saves,” unusual. Even historic. Like the life-altering pandemic that inspired it from here to Minnesota to New Jersey during Ramadan, the holiest month in the Islamic calendar.

In extraordinary times, when Muslims are unable to break the fast and pray together because COVID-19 has forced mosques to close — as it has some churches and other places of worship — the adhan has brought comfort. Cities across Southern California, including Redlands, Fontana, Rancho Cucamonga and Claremont, have allowed mosques to broadcast the call to prayer publicly.

Outside the Culver City mosque, some pedestrians stopped in their tracks when they first heard the adhan, seemingly surprised. This was something new, and it was not altogether clear how it would be received — as with many things Muslim in the U.S.

Mahmood Nadvi uses a handheld microphone to share the adhan, the Islamic call to prayer, at King Fahad Mosque in Culver City.(Irfan Khan / Los Angeles Times)

“It is indeed historical,” said Abdullah, who in the last week has heard the call to prayer broadcast in Redlands and Fontana. “It’s more than tolerance, it is our acceptance, I think. That’s a remarkable thing that this country has shown once again.”

But in Culver City, the call to prayer did not go unchallenged for long.

After four days, on May 18, the city’s police department revoked the amplified noise permit, citing people congregating at the mosque in violation of the county health order, as well as “numerous loud noise complaints from area residents.”

“We have had and will continue to have a great relationship with mosque leadership,” said Capt. Jason Sims with the Culver City Police Department. “We are certainly happy to help with facilitating any type of service that is not in violation of county health orders.”

Three days later, the city changed course again, reinstating the permit on the condition that the mosque lower the volume.

Meanwhile, on the Nextdoor social networking app, debates raged between neighbors.

“I’m glad I don’t live near there,” someone commented, spawning a string of responses.

“There are a lot of bitter racists in CC,” someone replied.

“What has a Muslim ever done to you?” one user said.

“Make me unhappy,” another responded.

Another commenter added: “You should ask people from Europe what they think about the muslims? I don’t think you get many people cheering them on.”

Two women in hijabs and masks gaze up as the adhan, or Islamic call to prayer, floats down from the roof of King Fahad Mosque in Culver City.(Irfan Khan / Los Angeles Times)

Across the U.S., the closure of churches has prompted pushback, with some filing lawsuits and a few defying stay-at-home orders.

The U.S. Justice Department warned in a letter Tuesday that the measures Gov. Gavin Newsom enacted to slow the spread of the coronavirus and his plans to unwind them might discriminate against religious groups and violate their constitutional rights.

More than 1,200 pastors have vowed to hold in-person services on May 31, Pentecost Sunday. On Friday, Trump declared houses of worship “essential” and called on governors to allow their reopening.

In the U.S., the question of whether to broadcast the adhan publicly has been controversial over the years. When the City Council in Hamtramck, Mich., approved the local mosque’s request to amplify the call to prayer in 2004, it sparked anger in the town.

“With so much going on in the world with terrorism, people are afraid maybe they’ll be saying things [in Arabic] that we don’t understand,” a bakery manager said at the time.

Despite the initial controversy, the adhan continues being broadcast there today.

Many mosques across Southern California got permission from local authorities to broadcast the adhan, or call to prayer, which is unusual to hear publicly broadcast in the U.S. Above, a small group gathers outside King Fahad Mosque in Culver City. (Irfan Khan / Los Angeles Times)

In 2015, Duke University called off its plan to sound the prayer call from the chapel’s 210-foot bell tower for the first time, in the face of anti-Islamic tirades on social media and concerns about security.

So this year, when mosques received permits to share the adhan through Ramadan, starting in Minnesota, some worried about what could happen.

“I’m very excited but ... deep inside I also have some concerns. Not because it’s not the right thing to do,” said Hussam Ayloush, executive director of the Los Angeles chapter of the Council on American-Islamic Relations. “But because we also still have people in our country who harbor prejudice towards Muslims or people who are not part of the majority.”

Last week, in Fontana, Ar-Rahman Islamic Center began broadcasting the adhan four times a day — omitting the earliest one around 4:30 a.m.

The only issue the center had, director Juma Darwish said, is that the prayer caller was too loud and actually broke the speaker outside — which the center is working to fix. The mosque has no end date on the broadcast.

“We’re just going to keep doing it until we feel any neighbor has discomfort with it,” Darwish said. “We’re not going to do it if a neighbor complains about it.”

Rauf Patel, director of King Fahad Mosque, and his wife, Anisa, were excited when they heard that the adhan was being publicly broadcast in Minnesota. Anisa convinced her husband to request a permit to do the same in Culver City.

In his letter to the city, Patel said broadcasting the adhan “would be a beacon of light in this trying time.” The mosque has been closed since March.

“During these difficult and unusual times of COVID-19, staying away from the mosque during our holy month has been challenging,” Patel wrote. “Being able to call to prayer out loud ... would not only lift all of our spirits, but also bring back [a] sense of our unity in our community and get us through our last few days of Ramadan.”

Soon after, the Police Department issued the permit. It would last until May 22, the day before the start of Eid al-Fitr, a celebration known as feast of the fast-breaking.

On the first day, May 14, Ahson Syed, the mosque’s religious director, stepped on overturned milk crates and up three steps that allowed him to peer over the roof at the people gathered below.

In Saudi Arabia, Syed was accustomed to hearing the call to prayer five times a day. In the U.S., he typically heard it only inside of mosques or community centers —- certainly not from the rooftops, broadcast across neighborhoods.

That evening, he was the first one to recite the adhan publicly, his voice ringing with emotion over the black loudspeaker. Half of the attendees that night were crying.

On the third night, Suzan Alrayes stood below with her 3- and 5-year-old sons, her husband and her parents. It had been a hard Ramadan, one in which she struggled to explain to her children the lurking, viral danger that prevented them from coming to the mosque.

That Saturday evening, there were plastic containers of dates and water bottles for attendees to take for the breaking of the fast.

The first time Alrayes heard the adhan from the roof of the mosque, she said, “it just gave me goose bumps.”

“I can’t even describe the feeling,” she said. “We’re not used to having the adhan in public in the United States.”

She just hoped, she said, that it wouldn’t disturb the non-Muslim community in any way.

“That would be my only concern,” Alrayes said.

Neighbors living around the mosque were surprised to hear the permit had been revoked, albeit briefly. Many of them said they couldn’t hear it, even though they live nearby.

The mosque, one resident, Liliana Cruz said, is “very much a part of the neighborhood.” She wondered about who would call to complain about the noise, calling them “jerks.”

“I don’t know who those people are,” Cruz said. “I don’t even want to know them.”

Another neighbor, who only gave his name as Eddie, said he wished neighbors had been given a heads-up about the call to prayer. He has stereo equipment, but said he could still hear the adhan from his home, which stands in view of the blue and white minaret.

“If you don’t have anything to avoid it, it can be a form of distress,” he said.

Debra Sugarman, who has lived in the city for 10 years, said she’s spent a lot of time in the Middle East and enjoys hearing the call to prayer. Sugarman, who lives a few blocks from the mosque, said she strained to hear the adhan the first few nights. She wished, she said, that it had been louder.

“It’s Ramadan,” Sugarman said. “They should be allowed to practice their religion.”

[first-man-adams-blog]

My Decision: Thoughts, Theories, and Some Changes to how I do Things from here

Ok...so here it is. I’ve decided to keep F/O-ing Aaravos. What happened in season 3 wasn’t unexpected. The creators hinted numerous times about his role in season 3, and I knew something was coming. I just wasn’t sure how to process my feelings on it.

Warning: If you care about spoilers, don’t read any further. Spoilers for season 3 of The Dragon Prince is below.

I came to the conclusion it wasn’t that he did bad things...but who toward. That being Viren. The villain of the show. I like Viren as a character still, and I guess now I see what Jason Simpson (his VA) in an interview was saying. He likes Viren as the complicated villain he is...but if he wasn’t just joking around, he doesn’t feel the same about Aaravos. At least this season.

I think it’s because those that genuinely like Viren’s character (not agreeing with his actions, but not disliking him as a character) will have a harder time with the scenes where Aaravos is doing something to him. Like the webbed up eye so he could see Aaravos’ ghostly apparition or the scene where the caterpillar emerged from Viren’s mouth but much longer and larger...and then continued to change in the final episode. As well as the many times he used clever wordplay on Viren to steer his thoughts into bigger plans...plans I think Viren would have had already, but until he became king he didn’t have the power to go through with it and was still in the habit of not overstepping his boundaries.

Viren is capable of lying and could be lying to himself about what he wants from Xadia. He just got power, he doesn’t want to lose it over a risky decision...but Aaravos knows what Viren is like, and uses that to his advantage.

If you like Viren’s character...you’ll probably have a hard time still liking Aaravos in those scenes. Because Viren IS the bad guy...and Aaravos IS manipulating him slowly but surely. It still isn’t clear what this means, or why...but I’m sticking to my belief Aaravos’ role isn’t as a villain, but he is an antagonist. There’s a difference between the two.

The show creators say mixed things on him. In their Tweets we get quite a bit of subtle but ominous warnings...and a confession his design was an attack on the fandom, from Aaron Ehasz (show co-creator) as a joke. Then Ehasz repeatedly says throughout several interviews that Aaravos is very complicated, and has said once that Aaravos is “disliked, that’s not the same as bad.” This being in response to Justin Richmond (the other co-creator) saying “and obviously he’s bad enough they literally tried erasing him from the {history} books.” Ehasz’ exact response being “he’s complicated” and Richmond saying “he’s interesting enough they tried erasing him from the books.” Ending in the above line from Ehasz of “he’s disliked. That’s not the same as bad.”

He was making a clear distinction between the two words, probably anticipating the suspicions from the fans hearing or reading the interview of his (Aaravos’) place in the story. This doesn’t make him good either...canonically I can’t call Aaravos “good” in any sense right now. Except good at being sassy and a show-off. lol

But I won’t put him fully in the villain category. Sol Regem was willing to kill the future King of the Dragons and an elf of Xadia if they didn’t let him kill the human with them either way. Yet he’s in all the promotional posters for some reason as well as the prologue opening. That part, of course, is made more clear in the first episode of season 3, though. He was flying toward the Dark Mage from the prologue in episode 1 of season 1. Then flying blindly as his face was burning after the confrontation.

He’s clearly also important to the plot...but I can’t call him ‘bad’. Not great...but not a villain.

The last bit of evidence is Aaravos’ actual name. It’s of Danish and Arabic origin and means “between light and dark, not good or bad.” Every other name has been spot-on:

Callum-Dove King: He’s a Sky Mage, and the Skywing elves are strongly influenced by bird themes, much like Moonshadows have strong ninja themes and the Startouch...is literally covered in stars and wearing a constellation on his clothes. Callum is a Sky mage, doves are birds, and he’s working toward a peaceful future. Doves are a symbol of peace.

Ezran-Helper: Look how helpful he was this season especially!

Viren-Leader of heroes: Uh...ok I don’t know WHAT heroes...but he is a good leader. Say what you will about his character, he has leadership skills. Aaravos didn’t have to teach him that stuff.

Claudia-Lame: Ok this is a bit harsh...but it is the ‘crippled’ lame. She’s...not doing well now. She isn’t physically crippled, but mentally and emotionally she is pretty badly wounded.

Ziard-Wizard: He’s a Dark Mage. A wizard. Spot on.

Sol Regem-Sun King: They literally say his name meaning...SUN KING. He was a king of the dragons once and is an Archdragon of the Sun.

Zubeia-Beauty, grace any of those. She really fits that name. She is beautiful.

Avizandum-Reserve Judgement: I interpret that to mean on Aaravos. He locked him in the place behind the mirror because he isn’t sure how to deal with him yet before Viren and Harrow slay him (Avizandum.) Aaravos is literally in 300 year jail time right now, and Avizandum was still deciding if he should execute him or not for whatever he did.

That or he’s reserving judgment on humans, which is why he defends the border instead. We might find out eventually...cause that is still a mystery. Why is the king of the dragons guarding the boarder 24/7? I get he was basically the ruler of all of Xadia...but it’s still an odd choice.

Anyway, Aaravos. Names clearly mean things in this show. I think his is the hint that he seems bad right now, but he isn’t. He isn’t good, but he isn’t bad. I don’t know how they’ll pull that off...but I’ll be impressed if they do.

There was also still more evidence on a theory I have that he’s telling the story is true as well. In the prologue, he calls Avizandum by his human-given name: Thunder. He says “the humans called him Thunder. For when he spoke his voice shook the earth and the sky.” In the episode we learn what happened to Avizandum, Aaravos is the one to say the name, but Viren doesn’t recognize it.

Viren is the one that tells Aaravos what they called Avizandum. Which was “Thunder.” If Aaravos isn’t an omniscient narrator and has been imprisoned for 300 years or so...how would he know this in the prologue if he didn’t in that scene? Coupled with the opening sequence of his hands uncurling a map, the lighting and desk surface or the shade of blue of his skin being nothing like in his prison. I could be wrong, and while I’d be disappointed to be...oh well.

What I’m saying is...Aaravos lives to tell the story if my theory is right. Which means he isn’t bad enough the writers have to kill him or something else...I don’t know how they’ll do it if it’s true, but I will be quite interested to see it.

Aside from the Sunfire elves in Lux Area, who I don’t think deserved what happened, his actions are all for a purpose related to what’s happening...but if we knew his perspective maybe it would seem less like a random evil act, which contradicts him being complex if it was just a show of his power and how ruthless he can be. Because from our perspective there wasn’t a reason to kill the Sun Queen other than “look how evil he is! Oooh!” Which doesn’t go along with the information we’ve been given so far. There’s more to this scene, I’m sure. Though it could just be that he killed her so she couldn’t reveal what he whispered in her ear...which was also a strange move. See? He’s complicated and there are still a lot of mysteries surrounding him and his actions. Aside from that, the only one Aaravos has done much of anything to is Viren. Anything kind of graphic and sort of gross (at least with the caterpillar.) Who is again...the Bad Guy.

So all that to say...yes, I’m going to keep him as an f/o. But in doing so I’m ignoring the show canon on this blog. As in I won’t be trying to work my S/I into the narrative as much anymore for the time being. I’m going to treat the blog similar to how @justafictionalthing​ where I don’t worry about canon or accuracy to the character’s personality in the source material to a T. I still love the show, don’t misunderstand. I’m going to watch it to the end of the saga, whatever happens...but on this blog, for the time being, I’m treating it like the Aaravos here and the canon are separate.

My Aaravos, the interpretation on this blog, is aware of his source material. If anyone’s read Inkheart, think of it like that. Fictional character comes out of their source material but still exists in the story itself as well. I might make a little story or something explaining this, but that’s the angle I’m going for in all future Takeovers and commentary.

I don’t dislike his canon portrayal, I know he’s more than what we saw...but for the blog it just doesn’t work right now. My S/I would never be ok with what he’s been doing...and keeping it hidden from her goes into some risky territory... I like that kind of stuff if there’s a happy ending payoff, but for the overall blog and my way of selfshipping, which has turned more “I’m actually with this character, not just writing myself in their story,” it doesn’t work.

TL;DR: I don’t hate or even dislike canon!Aaravos, but he doesn’t work well with what I want on this blog. I’m still with him, but the version you guys have gotten to know on this blog. Sassy but friendly and knowledgeable, and now separated from his source material almost Inkheart-style.

I’m too attached to who he is now from relationship development to drop this. I still like his canon self, but he’s changed a lot on this blog. If you don’t like that, watch the show for the ‘true’ Aaravos experience. Nothing but soft and sassy here for now. With some dark stuff if I’m in the mood for it.

[spinningsidetable]

Gentleman 2/3

Pairing: Octavian/Leo Valdez (leotavian)

Warning/Genre: Genre/Warning: AU, No Godly Parents, Spy Shit, Action Movie Parody, Non-Linear Story Telling, Admittedly Unhealthy Relationship, Descriptions of Violence, Dubious Consent Smooching, Sexual Situations,“Humor”

Rating: Mature

Summary: Leo has worked for the Agency for awhile now, the guy in the chair helping Agents save the world and all that, but now it seems like an actual supervillain is enamored with him.

(Notes: Sexual situations in this chapter, which will probably get the story flagged by tumblr. or maybe it won’t care, and just continue to mark pictures of my geckos as porn.)

Leo blearily opened his eyes and found himself in a familiar room. White plaster walls, deep red accents, and ancient looking columns on the veranda overlooking a lush garden. It would put the hanging gardens of Babylon to shame, or so Octavian had told Leo once. Leo didn’t know anything about plants, or the outdoors, or what it had to do with that show Babylon 5. But, it was really pretty. The whole base had a classic feel to it, like you’d been removed out of time, or if you had been transported into a bad series on the unfortunately named History Channel. Octavian had a weird thing for age-old Roman things, like conquest and domination. It was partly why no one was entirely sure if his name was Octavian from birth or not. It could have just been a complicated reference to Caesar Augustus, founder of Rome. The current theories about Octavian’s motives were world domination, or at least the creation of a new military state, a New Rome, but it hadn’t ever been confirmed. No one had much on him to go off, no known history, no paper trails, nothing. Just a love of gladiator movies, very presumably BDSM, and apparently Babylon 5. “Ugh,” Leo groaned, turning to grab the aspirin and glass of water he knew would be on the side table. “I should just move some shit in, spare clothes, maybe a toothbrush. I seem to be here often enough…” “I agree, mi amor.” Octavian said, reading from a book at the foot of the bed. Leo also knew he’d be there. “In fact, I believe we should get married. We’ve been dating for quite some time, now. What kind of ring do you want? I have access to an asteroid.” “I’m sorry to break this to you, but we’re actually not dating at all. Not even a little bit. Also, I can’t physically give you any heirs.” Leo sighed, running a hand through his hair. It wasn’t as messy as it usually was, but Octavian usually brushed it while Leo was out for the count. Leo’d never admit Octavian speaking specifically Spanish did things to him. “That’s something crazy dictators want, right? Bunch of heirs?” “Mm, ignoring adoption or surrogates, all we’d just need a host uterus, artificial or otherwise. My people have developed a way to combine the DNA of two men or two women within an artificial egg.” Octavian turned the page, like he wasn’t a supervillain bent on world domination (presumably) “Granted, I don’t particularly care about any heirs. It is possible though.” “Wait,” Leo held up a hand, realization dawning on him. “…Did Larry and Mark finally have kids?” “Mhmm,” Octavian closed the book, looking up at Leo with a pleasant (non-manic) smile on his face. “They’re trying.” “Oh my god, I’m so happy for them!” Leo’d really gotten to know a few of his guards by now. “I’m still not marrying you though, you just blew a hole in an aircraft carrier. That being said, I do also want access to an asteroid, would I get half of it if we got married?” Octavian shrugged a shoulder, never concerned. “I have a sneaking suspicion the military industrial complex will recover, for now. However, I am glad to hear you’ve changed your mind about my so-called manipulation via…how did you put it, sweet talk? I’m glad to hear you think it’s sweet.” Leo faltered, pushing the blankets off and getting out of bed. Silk pajamas, always the best. “That’s…” Leo had forgotten about that. That was right. He remembered the looks on Reyna’s face, on Piper’s and Jason’s. “…If I agreed to marry you, but I promised to never tell you a single secret about the Agency, about Jason, or about anything that could in anyway help you with any of your plans…you’re telling me you’d…be okay with that?” “Oh, mo ghaol, I’ve never assumed you’d tell me anything. Have I ever asked? Threatened you? Hurt you in any way?” Octavian stood, and came to Leo’s side. He raised a hand to Leo’s face, fingers resting causally at Leo’s neck and thumb rubbing small circles into his cheek. “I adore you.” “Why, though?” Leo looked at the floor, away from Octavian’s face. “I’m just…” “Brilliant, smart, handsome, clever, funny, beautiful, talented…” Octavian finished for him, tone slightly chastising, but in a fond way. “Yes, I have no idea.” “I’m 5’2, I’m a tooth pick, I’ve got like a mole on my forehead I keep covered with hair because I’m a little scared it might be an absorbed twin, because it’s got like this massive whisker in it I pluck secretly. And then I say things like that when I’m nervous…” Octavian laughed, shaking his head. “Your size is convenient, cute even; you still have a good deal of upper body strength, your muscles are toned even if you’re slim. And, you have a beauty mark. You’re interesting, and funny. It’s not like I’m particularly muscular either. I think you called me a murderous scarecrow for half a year.” Leo groaned and flopped back down onto the bed, “I still have braces, Octavian!” “It’s respectable that you care about oral hygiene,” Octavian responded with a shrug, kneeling down to the ground between Leo’s legs. He looked like a knight, bowing before his king. “I understand why the Agency may think I have ulterior motives; admittedly, you would be a great target. But, like I said, I truly adore you solnyshka. In time, you’ll accept that, because I believe you already know deep down that I’m telling the truth.” The Brazilian government had apparently covered up the fact that they had recently discovered a massive underground temple. It was a lost holy place for numerous native Brazilian tribes, but the current regime didn’t want to award any more protection of land over to the native peoples. Why? Because of course they didn’t. That would mean they couldn’t strip it for resources, who cared about history, preservation, or other cultures in the face of cold hard cash? The Agency was tasked with keeping peace, and with further private exploration of the temple before the government got to work. The entire place was still majorly unknown, the exact size and scale was a mystery. No one was entirely sure who built it even. Leo and another tech Rachel, were the grunts that were sent down into the terrifying and dark abyss with just flashlights and backpacks. They’d spent a week developing an advanced mapping system, that could create a 3D rendering of any hidden passages and tunnels. But, they had to place a few probes in the temple first at strategic points for it to work, which meant having to be there in person first. Two Agents accompanied them, Agent di Angelo and Agent Levesque. They were apparently the only ones willing to go spelunking with the tech-y desk jockeys. Leo would have preferred Jason, but he knew the guy was terrified of enclosed spaces underground. These two didn’t seem to be bothered by it in the slightest. The two Agents hadn’t talked much at first, but eventually Levesque and Rachel got on like wildfire. Di Angelo wasn’t so friendly, and when it came time to split up, Leo was disappointed he got stuck with the angry emo Agent baby, instead of the stupidly hot spy lady. Agent di Angelo only got angrier for some reason when Leo said as much. They had been walking throughout the tunnels in the cavernous temple for about an hour, when Leo and his babysitter came across an old rope bridge to the other side of the cave system they were in. It was too big to jump across, but Leo needed to get to the other side to place a probe. “Hey, too spooky?” Leo grinned, turning to the Agent who grimaced at said nickname. “Have you ever heard why the lion crossed the bridge?” “What are you talking about- Hey!” Leo was already darting across the bridge, backwards, big hefty backpack and all. He could feel it creaking and cracking under his feet, but Leo made it safely. “To get to the other side! Get it?” Leo called over, cupping his hands around his mouth. Agent di Angelo flipped him off. “That’s not very professional! Come on! It’s totally safe!” The rope bridge promptly snapped and collapsed into the nothingness below. “I rescind that! Don’t do it!” Agent Angel whipped out a comm and seemed to be having a very tense conversation with someone on the other line as he paced back and forth, his light moving around the room. “Hey, it’s fine, buddy!” Leo yelled. “I’ll just go plant the other probe, while you get like a ladder or something! Not like anything else is down here! You know, besides snakes, and spiders, and scorpions and other totally natural things that could kill me!” An hour or two later and Leo was increasingly worried there really was nothing down here. The temple seemed to be built into an existing cave system, which could theoretically be hundreds of miles long. It was just endless amounts of rock and water dripping and bats and bugs. Leo was getting tired, and hungry, so when he heard voices and the reflections of light in the distance, he couldn’t help himself. He bolted towards the commotion, waving his flashlight. “HEY! I’m so glad you-“ Leo found himself in a large cave opening, surrounded by men and women in black attire, now all pointing guns at his face. Octavian stood in the middle, eyebrow raised, and a manic smile beginning to overtake his expression. “Oh boy. I am lost. I am but a poor lost…Brazilian person. I got a bit turned around back there, I’ll just…turn around and go the other way.” “Don’t shoot,” Octavian waved a hand. “I know this little vagalume.” As Octavian walked forward towards sweaty, filthy, gross covered Leo, and the crowds parted around Octavian like he was some kind of God. Supervillains sure knew how to make an impact. “My, my, why are you here, meu querido?” Octavian’s smile was dangerous, and the flashlight casting shadows just accentuated the madness. “The Agency must know something, if they’re willing to send you in.” “I, uh,” Leo was flustered, his sweat sticking his hair to his forehead. “…Searched my soul? And found you!” Octavian laughed, coming close enough to rest his hand on Leo’s cheek. “Well, you weren’t what we were looking for, but I can’t say I’m displeased.” He turned to the men closest to him, “leve-o de volta ao acampamento.” Leo yelped as he was grabbed and thrown over a shoulder. “What the fuck did you just say?! Octavian! Hey! Why are we in the one South American country I can’t speak the language of! Oi, hablar español por favor-” “I hate you, I hate you so much, oh my god.” Leo gasped, moving up and down, his hands clenched into the headboard behind Octavian’s stupid face. Leo was sweating so much, it was disgusting. Had he sweat this much the first time he had had sex? No, Leo was pretty sure he had gotten in the girl, whimpered, and collapsed to the side pretty much immediately. “Do you want to stop?” Octavian grinned up at him knowingly, his own hands on Leo’s lower hips stopped encouraging him. Leo’s thighs were burning, his abdominal muscles were tensed almost the entire time. He needed Octavian’s help to keep going, to keep moving. Leo was already shaky after extended foreplay, he had already spent holding himself up on his arms and knees as the villain decided to take his time and use his tongue. “I will actually kill you if you stop,” one of Leo’s hands left the headboard to dig into Octavian’s scalp and pull him forward for a messy kiss. The angle shifted Leo away from riding the cock inside him, to just rocking back and forth in a needy manner. He needed more momentum, the pressure was good, it was so good, but he needed more. It didn’t help that Octavian had a hand around his cock, with just enough pressure at the base of the shaft that Leo couldn’t find the release he was looking for. He wasn't stroking it, he wasn't doing anything that Leo needed. He was being an actual cocktease. “I will remove your windpipe I swear to god, I refuse to be a pump and dump,” Leo pulled away, nipping just slightly at Octavian’s lower lip. “Octavian, come on, estoy loco por ti, te necesito. Please?” Octavian’s eyes were normally very light blue, but right now Octavian’s pupils were blown wide and black. He flipped Leo over onto his back. “Anything for you, the entire world for you.” Maybe he was easy, Leo thought, sprawled out in bed that night. 16 kidnappings were all it took for him to go full Stockholm Syndrome. Octavian was asleep next to him, completely defenseless, if you didn’t count the armed guards outside and the whole island fortress thing. “Poor thing, wore himself out”, Leo whispered as he reached over and pushed a few pieces of hair away from the man’s forehead. Granted, Leo had fully passed the fuck out after their romp as well, he just woke up sooner. The benefits of horrific insomnia, not even 3 orgasms could keep him asleep for long. “Oh my god, I slept with a supervillain,” Leo flopped back down onto his pillow. The thread count on these sheets was ridiculous. “Repeatedly.” “Mm, was I at least a gentlemen?” Octavian’s voice was somewhat rough from sleep, and probably from the blowjob, but he was awake enough to throw and arm around Leo’s side and pull him close. “Very much so,” Leo whispered back, shoving his face into Octavian’s neck. “Maybe…I can be the…uh, gentleman next time?” Octavian had a great dick, just perfect. Hit all the spots. Looked good, felt fucking fantastic. But, he also was pretty in his own way, and had a nice ass. Leo wanted in it. “Whatever you wish, mi amor. I look forward to it.” Octavian pulled Leo in closely, kissing his forehead. He really was a gentleman. Octavian then swung a leg over Leo, and straddled his waist. “Wait, right now?” “We are going to fucking die!” Leo screamed at the scarecrow on stilts. “I refuse to die because a piece of anthropomorphized spaghetti with a God complex kidnapped me!” Octavian looked mildly annoyed at the insult, or maybe just the fact Leo had been yelling nonstop for about five minutes. Octavian rarely looked particularly bothered by anything Leo did or said, so he must have been fairly stressed out. “We’re not going to die from this,” Octavian glanced at his passenger, who hadn’t put down a small metal lighter. “We might die if you burn up all our oxygen, however.” Leo’s eyes narrowed, and he flicked the lighter shut. “Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid, Julius Caesar. Your navigation system is shot, your craft is taking on water, and the control panel is fucking glitching halfway to Siberia. You did this, this is your fault. I’m smaller than you, when we inevitably die horrifically here, I want to at least survive long enough to see you die first. You’ll need oxygen before I do.” “No,” Octavian corrected, clenching his jaw. “Your Agency did this by sabotaging my submersible, knowing fully well you were aboard. So much for loyalty.” Leo rolled his eyes, and threw his legs up on the console, as they were starting to get soggy. “No, they didn’t. I’m too valuable. They’d still be stuck with tech from the 50’s if it wasn’t for my ass. Say, how painful would it be to get eaten by sharks?” “Probably very,” Octavian grabbed one of Leo’s feet and tossed it off the machinery. “You know very little about the organization you work for, apparently. They track all assets.” “Uh, yeah, no shit. I removed that crap forever ago.” Leo gestured at a small scar on his arm. “So, again, back to being your fault. You, alone, used a submersible to kidnap me. In my fucking pajamas!” They were classic teenage mutant ninja turtles, Leo had told Octavian. “I thought it would be…” The madman, for once, appeared to be struggling to find the words. “Romantic. Moonlit dinner, with nothing but the ocean around us.” Leo looked in the back of the compartment, at the nearly cliché picnic box and bottle of wine. There were even fucking roses. “Goddammit. Move, you asshat.” Leo got out of his seat, and pushed Octavian to the edge of his own, sitting beside him. Octavian looked at him curiously, but Leo was already starting to fiddle with the console controls. It didn’t look like much was happening. “If we are to die here, then I can’t say I mind the company,” Octavian admitted, only to get flipped off. “…Leonardo was always my favorite ninja turtle.” Leo sat up sharply, looking directly at the man. “Where the fuck are you from?! I swear to Christ, how do you speak 500 languages, yet know TMNT? Ain’t no one in American public school systems do word good.” “Maybe I was raised by a giant rat in the New York city sewers?” Octavian offered, with a smirk. “Who knows. You know, I know some about your past. You were doing extremely advanced mathematics in elementary school. You make fun of my education, but you’re obviously brilliant yourself, in fields and ways much more advanced than I.” “I hate you, leave me alone, I’m working.” Leo’s face was slightly red as he grumbled but turned back to the display. “…I expect more than a picnic when I save your pasty white butt.” “Of course, mój drogi.” The water had gotten uncomfortably close to the electrical equipment, but it had only taken Leo a few minutes before the submersible was back in some amount of working order. It would still sink, it was taking on far too much water with no way of repairing physical damage like that, but at least now they could deploy the emergency raft. Within five minutes, they were sitting in a black and red raft. It wasn’t small or flimsy, thankfully. Leo had enough room to fully stretch out on the blanket that had been in the picnic basket. Octavian had made a call to his men, it was likely they’d be there within the hour, but for the time… Octavian laid down beside the shorter man, staring up at the stars. “I guess it is kind of romantic. Maybe not the impending threat of death so much, but it is pretty out here. There’s not as much pollution out here…the stars are really bright.” Leo pointed at a few, “do you know any constellations?” Octavian did, so instead of answering, sat up on his elbow and leaned over to kiss the mechanic. Leo jerked backwards, eyes wide. “What the hell, did you just kiss me?” Octavian kissed him again, before pulling back and looking mighty pleased with himself. “I hate you, that’s such a breach of my personal space, it is completely uncalled for.” Leo ranted before he was grabbing the back of Octavian’s head and pulling him in for another.

[atlasfms]

𝟎𝟔 / 𝟎𝟐 / 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟗    ;    𝐯𝐢𝐚  𝐓𝐌𝐙.𝐜𝐨𝐦

            TRIGGERS  ;  mentions  of  death  ,  drugs  ,  overdose  ,  suicide  ,  child  abuse     &    domestic  violence  .

            𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠    𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬    𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭    𝐭𝐡𝐞    𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭    technical  challenge  atlas  has  faced  ,  however  for  someone  who  tends  to  near  enough  set  the  kitchen  on  fire  every  time  he  tries  even  attempting  to  cook  ,  it’s  a  miracle  the  stove  still  remains  unharmed    &    the  fire  alarm  hasn’t  been  triggered  yet  .  diane  figured  it  would  be  a  good  idea  for  him  to  learn  how  to  cook  his  own  food  rather  than  calling  her  or  his  sisters  over  when  he  wants  a  home  a  cooked  meal  .  of  course  ,  he  apprehensively  agreed  at  first  but  he’s  gradually  been  getting  better  at  it  .  given  his  recent  activities  ,  he  figures  getting  used  to  every  day  activities  could  be  a  good  thing  .

            he’s  in  the  middle  of  attempting  to  flip  the  pancake  when  his  phone  vibrates  obnoxiously  in  his  pocket  ,  but  he’s  not  in  the  mood  to  answer  it  so  he  lets  it  continue  it’s  buzzing  until  eventually  stopping  .  he  gets  ready  to  flip  the  pancake  again  when  his  phone  starts  vibrating  for  the  second  time  ,  so  ,  with  a  sigh  he  puts  down  the  pan    &    flips  his  phone  out  .  he  notices  that  the  number  is  made  private  ,  so  atlas  is  wary  as  her  brings  the  device  to  his  ear  ,  blonde  brows  furrowing  .    ❛    hello    ?    ❜

            ❛    hello  ,  am  i  speaking  to  a  mister  atlas  deniro    ?    ❜    the  voice  at  the  other  end  on  the  phone  line  is  vaguely  familiar  ,  however  he’s  struggling  to  put  a  name  to  the  tone  as  he  frowns  a  little  .

           ❛    can  i  ask  who’s  speaking  ,  please    ?    ❜

            the  man  answers  without  hesitation  ,    &    atlas  can  hear  the  quiet  ring  of  another  phone  in  the  background  .    ❛    this  is  detective  bryant  from  the  NYPD  .  am  i  speaking  to  atlas  deniro    ?    ❜

            atlas  freezes  in  place  ,  suddenly  remembering  why  her  recognises  the  voice  .  it’s  one  he  was  hoping  he’d  never  get  to  hear  again  ,  however  given  recent  circumstances    &    the  publicity  that  was  gained  out  of  his  argument  with  his  father  ,  he’s  really  not  surprised  .    ❛    this  is  him  .  is  there  a  problem    ?    ❜    he  straightens  his  back  as  he  folds  his  arms  over  his  chest  ,  forgetting  the  stove  is  still  on  .

            ❛    no  problem  .  i  was  just  wondering  whether  you  were  available  to  come  to  the  station    ?    ❜    his  tone  gives  away  nothing  ,  which  leaves  atlas  feeling  more  on  edge  .

            ❛    for  what  ,  exactly    ?    ❜

            there’s  a  few  moments  of  silence  ,  leaving  atlas  to  tap  his  arm  impatiently  as  he  awaits  an  explanation  .    ❛    i  was  hoping  you  could  review  your  statement  regarding  the  death  of  jason  rhodes  .  i  understand  you  weren’t  exactly  ...  truthful  .    ❜    he’s  suddenly  unable  to  move  ,  the  name  mentioned  making  him  feel  cold  even  though  the  central  heating  has  been  making  his  penthouse  feel  like  the  inside  of  an  oven  to  help  rid  of  what  seems  to  be  an  endless  winter  that’s  attacking  the  city  .  he  doesn’t  even  realise  he  hasn’t  answered  yet  until  the  detective’s  voice  carries  trough  the  phone  again  .    ❛    mr.  deniro    ?    ❜

            ❛    sorry  .  um  ,  sure  ,  i’ll  be  there  right  away  .    ❜    the  detective  says  a  quiet  ‘thank  you’  before  hanging  up  ,    &    atlas  has  to  take  a  few  seconds  to  collect  himself  ,  leaning  back    &    taking  a  few  minutes  to  recollect  his  thoughts  .  they  must’ve  seen  the  video  .  he’d  naively  believed  that  even  though  he’d  been  asked  time    &    time  again  about  it  ,  that  the  police  wouldn’t  have  seen  it  .  it’s  just  another  reminder  that  nothing  in  his  life  can  ever  remain  private  .

            as  he  leans  back  ,  he  stupidly  forgets  about  the  burning  stove  as  he  places  his  hand  on  top  of  it  ,  his  immediate  reaction  to  cry  out  ,  jump  away    &    run  some  cold  water  over  his  scolded  hand  .  he  blanks  out  everything  as  his  hand  starts  to  go  numb  ,  feeling  nothing  but  the  terrible  pit  in  his  stomach  like  he’s  about  to  throw  up  or  something  that  would  make  this  situation  worse  than  it  already  is  .  after  that  night  ,  he  promised  himself  he’d  never  talk  about  it  again  .  he  told  himself  that  if  he  didn’t  talk  about  it  ,  he  wouldn’t  think  about  it  ,    &    that  if  he  didn’t  think  about  it  ,  it  wouldn’t  hurt  .  now  he’s  not  so  sure  it  was  a  smart  idea  .

            once  his  hand  starts  stinging  due  to  the  freezing  water  that  has  turned  it  red  ,  he  shakes  off  the  droplets  ,  grabs  a  first  aid  kit    &    after  applying  an  antiseptic  cream  ,  he  carefully  wraps  it  in  a  bandage  .  he  remembers  to  turn  off  the  stove  this  time    &    throws  away  his  half - cooked  pancake  .  he  decides  that  if  he  keeps  moving  ,  he  can  avoid  recalling  that  night  for  a  long  as  possible  until  he  gets  to  the  police  station  .  it  seems  as  good  of  a  tactic  as  any  so  he  pockets  his  keys  ,  even  tapping  his  leg  as  he  reaches  his  penthouse’s  elevator    &    waits  for  it  to  arrive  at  the  top  ,  fidgeting  all  the  way  down  to  the  underground  parking  lot    &    fumbling  with  his  keys  as  he  gets  into  his  car    (    the  ferrari  gabe  bought  him  for  his  birthday    )    .

             the  drive  to  the  police  station  is  daunting    &    he  gets  there  too  fast  for  his  liking  .  it  didn’t  seem  to  have  taken  him  two  seconds  ,  even  though  he’d  sad  for  half  an  hour  in  new  york  traffic  .  he  figures  that  it’s  because  he’s  so  used  to  travelling  in  rush  hour  ,  but  he  can’t  be  sure  .  atlas  takes  a  few  minutes  to  gather  his  thoughts  once  he’s  shut  off  his  engine  ,  finding  comfort  in  the  moments  of  silence  before  he  sighs  ,  gets  out  the  car  ,    &    slides  his  keys  back  into  his  pocket  .  he’s  vaguely  aware  of  the  snap  of  cameras  flashing  away  ,  voices  following  him  to  the  door  but  they’re  just  noise  to  him  .

            the  moment  he  steps  into  the  building  ,  he  wants  to  run  back  to  his  car    &    get  as  far  away  from  this  place  as  possible  .  he  doesn’t  want  to  talk  about  that  night  .  he’s  not  even  sure  if  he  can  ,  but  knowing  he  has  to  give  them  the  truth  is  the  only  thing  that’s  carrying  him  through  to  the  reception  desk    &    handing  over  his  name  .  some  police  officer  he  recognises  guides  him  to  a  room  ,  offering  him  a  glass  of  water    &    telling  him  to  take  a  seat  .  every  moment  seems  animated  until  detective  bryant  ,  a  burly  man  with  greying  hair  steps  into  a  room    &    places  a  file  on  the  table  in  front  of  the  atlas  .  on  the  file  reads  the  name  ‘jason  rhodes’  .  atlas  takes  a  breath  .

            ❛    it’s  good  to  see  you  again  ,  atlas  .    ❜    the  detective  takes  a  seat  across  the  table  ,  straightening  out  his  jacket  before  placing  his  hands  carefully  on  the  table  ,  tilting  his  head  to  one  side  .    ❛    i  assume  you  know  why  you’re  here    ?    ❜

            ❛    yeah  .  you  told  me  over  the  phone  ,    ❜    he  replies  ,  clearing  his  throat  a  little  as  he  shuffles  uncomfortably  in  his  chair  .

            the  older  man  nods  his  head  ,  tapping  on  the  file  .    ❛    of  course  .  let’s  cut  to  the  chase  .  word  travels  fast  ,    &    talk  about  you    &    your  father’s  disagreement  is  one  we’ve  been  speculating  since  it  was  seen  .  you  said  your  father  told  you  to  lie  to  us  regarding  jason  rhodes’  death  ,    &    you  should  know  that  we  don’t  take  lying  lightly  .  so  ,  i  would  like  you  to  tell  me  again  what  happened  on  the  fifth  of  may  2010  .  but  this  time  tell  me  the  truth  .    ❜

            atlas  nods  his  head  ,  fiddling  with  his  fingers  as  he  thinks  of  the  right  way  to  start  his  statement  .    ❛    we  wanted  to  celebrate  graduating  .  you  know  ,  it’s  a  big  thing  .  we  were  surprised  we  even  managed  to  pull  through  senior  year  ,    &    we  didn’t  just  wanna  go  out  in  new  york  .    ❜    he  pauses  for  a  beat  but  it  turns  out  to  be  a  couple  of  silent  minutes  ,  only  speaking  up  again  when  the  detective  clears  his  throat  .    ❛    sorry  .  i  don’t  like  talking  about  this  .    ❜

            ❛    understandably  .    ❜    he  bobs  his  head  .    ❛    take  your  time  .    ❜

            ❛    once  we  got  to  the  hotel  room  ,  we  both  passed  out  for  like  an  hour  straight  because  we’d  both  get  tired  after  travelling  .  we  were  planning  on  going  out  that  night  ,  so  we  wanted  to  be  rested  up  so  we  could  stay  out  later  .  when  we  woke  up  ,  i  wanted  a  shower  .    ❜    he  rubs  his  hands  over  his  jeans  .    ❛    jace  said  he  wanted  to  do  a  few  lines  before  we  headed  out  ,  but  i  was  in  the  shower  while  he  started  .    ❜    atlas  looks  out  of  the  window  ,  trying  to  recall  that  night  without  thinking  too  much  about  the  details  .  but  he  can’t  help  it  .    ❛    when  i  was  done  ,  i  found  him  on  the  bed  ...  he  looked  all  pale    &    clammy    &    there  was  this  foam  coming  out  of  his  mouth  .  when  i  called  911  ,  they  told  me  to  do  all  these  breathing  tests    &    try  resuscitating  him  while  they  were  on  their  way  .  the  last  thing  i  remember  is  them  arriving  up  until  my  parents  got  to  the  hospital  .  everything  else  is  a  blur  .    ❜

            the  detective  stays  quiet  as  he  jots  down  everything  atlas  says  in  a  notepad  ,  placing  his  pen  on  the  bundle  of  paper  as  he  glances  back  at  atlas  .    ❛    i  see  .  you  previously  told  us  you  didn’t  know  about  the  drugs  ,  correct    ?    ❜

            ❛    yes  ,    ❜    atlas  says  .    ❛    my  dad  told  me  that  if  you  knew  i  knew  about  the  drugs  ,  that  you’d  find  some  way  to  blame  me  .    ❜

            ❛    it’s  never  a  good  idea  to  leave  someone  alone  with  drugs  .  it’s  never  a  good  idea  to  do  drugs  in  the  first  place  .    ❜    atlas  squirms  in  his  seat  as  the  detective  speaks  ,  not  enjoying  where  the  conversation  is  going  .    ❛    but  ,  we  can’t  blame  you  for  something  that  isn’t  your  fault  .    ❜    the  blonde  looks  up  ,  ocean  gaze  wide  as  he  tries  to  understand  the  words  coming  out  of  the  man’s  mouth  .    ❛    atlas  ,  how  long  were  you    &    jason  friends    ?    ❜

            atlas  furrows  his  eyebrows  ,  not  entirely  sure  why  he’s  asking  .    ❛    a  couple  of  years  or  so  .    ❜

            ❛    i  see  .    ❜    the  detective  nods  his  head  .    ❛    did  he  ever  mention  anything  about  he  previous  behaviours    ?    before  you  two  were  friends  .    ❜

            ❛    not  really  .  i  knew  he’d  dip  out  a  lot    &    reappear  a  month  or  so  later  ,  but  we  were  told  that  his  family  travelled  a  lot    &    took  him  with  them  .    ❜

            detective  bryant  opens  up  the  file  ,  which  holds  more  pieces  of  paper  than  atlas  would’ve  thought  there  would  be  in  an  overdose  case  .  once  the  file  is  pushed  towards  him  ,  he  flicks  through  the  papers  as  the  man  talks  .    ❛    jason  had  been  in  trouble  with  drugs  before  .  he  was  hospitalised  numerous  of  times  due  to  overdosing    &    other  causes  .  his  mother  would  send  him  to  rehab  to  try    &    get  him  back  on  the  straight    &    narrow  .  he  attended  therapy  sessions  but  none  of  them  worked  .  did  you  two  ever  discuss  your  home  lives    ?    ❜

            ❛    not  that  i  remember  .    ❜    atlas  frowns  .    ❛    i  mean  ,  we’d  complain  about  how  irritating  our  fathers  were  ,  but  that’s  about  it  .  i  don’t  understand  what  that  has  to  do  with  anything  .    ❜

            ❛    jason’s  home  life  was  a  huge  factor  in  the  cause  of  his  death  .    ❜    detective  bryant  pulls  out  a  specific  piece  of  paper    &    hands  it  to  atlas  .    ❛    his  father  was  abusive  .  not  only  to  him  but  to  his  mother  ,  too  .  drugs  were  his  way  of  getting  away  from  it  .  until  they  stopped  working    &    all  he  wanted  was  for  it  to  end  .  if  he  hadn’t  had  died  that  night  ,  we’re  certain  that  he  would  have  at  a  later  date  .  it‘s  just  a  shame  that  you  were  there  when  he  was  successful  .    ❜

            atlas’  ears  prickle  .    ❛    wait  ,  successful    ?    are  you  saying  that  jace  ...  killed  himself    ?    ❜

            the  detective  nods  again  .    ❛    he  saw  it  as  his  only  way  out  .  his  mother  didn’t  tell  us  until  after  he  died  .    ❜

            ❛    oh  my  god  ,  jace  .    ❜    atlas  closes  the  case  file    &    rubs  his  hands  over  his  face  ,  trying  to  collect  his  thoughts  but  all  the  while  thinking  about  how  he  was  so  blind  that  he  couldn’t  see  it  .

            ❛    you’re  not  at  fault  here  ,  atlas  .    &    although  i  understand  why  your  father  asked  you  to  lie  to  us  ,  you  shouldn’t  blame  yourself  for  something  that  nobody  could  have  helped  .    ❜    he  places  a  supportive  hand  on  the  blonde’s  shoulder  ,  offering  him  a  small  smile  .    ❛    i  have  no  further  questions  .  you’re  free  to  go  .    ❜

             once  he’s  stood  ,  his  legs  feel  like  jelly    &    he  has  to  hold  onto  the  table  before  finding  the  strength  to  carry  on  again  ,  not  really  recognising  where  he’s  going  as  he  drags  himself  through  the  reception    &    out  into  the  open  air  .  he  ignores  the  people  who  were  undoubtedly  waiting  for  him  to  leave  ,  asking  questions  that  reach  deaf  ears    &    not  really  knowing  where  he’s  going  until  he’s  alone  in  his  car    &    able  to  think  properly  .  he  puts  his  head  back  on  the  headrest  ,  closing  his  eyes  only  to  be  acquainted  by  the  image  of  his  dead  best  friend  .  quickly  snapping  them  back  open  ,  he  starts  the  engine    &    backs  out  of  the  parking  lot  ,  everything  around  him  blurring  as  he  makes  his  way  back  home  .

[weregonnaneedmorewhiskey]

It’s trendy to hate

Ok, so this is kind of a follow up from a previous post from my blog post on cancel culture. Something that I have observed in the last two years on social media is that there is a trend in hyping people up to great success and then once they’ve reached that level, we then see hate start to increase. The first person I saw this happen to was Taylor Swift. After the massive success of the 1989 era, her transition into pop music, we started to see a lot of hate towards Taylor. Part of this I do believe was from the whole Kanye West/Famous situation where Kim had released a recording of Taylor and Kanye’s performance in which we hear Taylor hear the lyric “I think me and Taylor might still have sex”.

We hear Taylor respond to this lyric citing no problems with it. HOWEVER we do not hear that in that recording that Taylor know about the following lyric of making her “famous”, so I’m definitely think to this day Taylor didn’t know about that lyric until The Life of Pablo was released. After this episode of KUWTK aired, the hate for Taylor was immense. Her Instagram comments were filled with snake emoji and a hate train had arrived. Thankfully Taylor was able to take this snake narrative and turn it on it’s head in the Reputation era. Something that I love.

Another example. After Cardi’s Grammy win, she received major backlash from it to the point where she temporarily deactivated her Instagram account. Since Cardi’s Grammy win, I’ve seen a lot of people overnight start to hate Cardi and it begs to question of why do people just start to hate things that are popular. Ella Mai got a fair share of hate the other day when made reference to Jacquees singing trip at Drake’s Assassination Vacation tour where Tory Lanez brought him out as a guest (by the way, you’re in front of 20,000 + people and you sing a cover instead of your original music. That’s the perfect moment to plug your music you idiot). Once Ella, who has had little to say on the situation spoke on how she felt in that moment and yet jacquees did a whole press tour on it, people said she should “get over it” and that’s she’s jealous...a Grammy award winner with two platinum songs and probably another platinum song, a platinum album, a feature with Meek Mill and a sold out tour is jealous of Jacquees’ mediocre cover. Ok go off.

Ariana Grande is another person that received a mass amount of hate after the release of Thank U, Next accusing her of appropriating black culture when Ariana has been heavily influenced by black music from the beginning of her career. Her debut album is a throwback 90’s R&B album heavily inspired by Mariah and Whitney. I could get into the whole culture vulture argument because there is valid point to made about how people roast others for appropriation but let Bhad Bhabie become a thing (this still angers me to this day because she is a joke and a walking caricature)

It’s like it’s cool to hate what’s trendy but is this jumping on the hate train because everyone is? I strongly believe so and this is very dangerous. Kevin Hart in a recent interview spoke on this and I could not agree more on what he said. We need to all have our individual opinions, not collective ones. Why do we build people up only to want bring them down? I just don’t understand this at all. My inspiration for this post was from numerous viral hate tweets about Jennifer Lopez. Recently I keep seeing tweets undermining Jennifer’s career in music and it’s frankly quite annoying and hypocritical and shows that a lot people don’t know the ins and outs of the music industry. The claim that Jennifer has stolen songs is a narrative that has been falsely spread and a couple YouTube video which I will not share the name of because I do not want to hear this narrative at all. For those of you that don’t know, back in 2001-2 the singles I’m Real and Ain’t it Funny remix were co-written by Ashanti. Ashanti’s vocals are also featured as background. Ashanti herself had admitted that she not the so called “ghost voice” of Jennifer Lopez. Also since you lot love Ashanti, I have a crazy suggestion. SUPPORT HER MUSIC AND HER CONCERTS! If you love her so much then why is cancelling concerts because of low ticket sales and not charting. Just saying. Don’t @ me. Period. Slagging off Jennifer does nothing for either one of them when Jennifer minds her, makes money and takes care of her kids and is engaged and you’re making viral tweets like that’s gonna bother her day and brighten Ashanti’s. I’m sure Ashanti would be grateful if you supported her music instead of tweeting.

Ashanti and Jennifer are cool to this day, she’s in the Ain’t it Funny music video and Ashanti is still to this day proud of how successful the songs were. This is a very common practice, there are many examples of this in music. Joe Jonas’ See No More, Lighthouse and Justin Bieber’s Christmas Eve were all written by Chris Brown and Chris’ vocals can be clearly heard in the background and yet no one thinks that Joe and Chris are ghost singing or stole from Chris. Huh. A lot of songs originally intended for other artists get passed on and sometimes their vocals are still on the track. This is a COMMON music industry practice. Some artists write songs from other artists and aren’t even credited for their contribution. An example of this is Jason Derulo’s Want You to Want Me. Want You to Want Me was actually ghostwritten by Chris Brown for his sixth studio album X but the track was abandoned because he felt that it wasn’t cohesive with the album as a whole which I agree with. His demo can be found on YouTube which I will link but unless you go on to Wikipedia, you wouldn’t know this fact. Tracks can be stolen and that has happened but 95% of the time, it is the producer that is responsible for this or a label executive. A sample of the song Firecracker was orginally meant for Mariah Carey’s Loverboy but ended up on Jennifer Lopez’s I’m Real. It was revealed that Tommy Mottola was responsible for this happening. For those of you that don’t know who Tommy Mottola is, he was the head of Sony music all through the 1990’s and early 2000’s. Tommy Mottola is responsible for many artists careers in particular Mariah Carey and Jennifer Lopez. Tommy Mottola was also Mariah Carey’s first husband who she was with until 1997. Mariah has been candid about the mental and emotional abuse she dealt with in the marriage and how she practically a prisoner in her own home as Tommy controlled everything in her life. After their split, Tommy seemingly attempted to sabotage her career and the stealing of the sample was one of this many attempts. A lot of the time when events like this happen, the artist is unaware of this. Yeah 3x uses the melody of Calvin Harris’ I’m Not Alone, something that Chris Brown was not aware of until he met with Calvin Harris and he played I’m Not Alone to him. Calvin knew the producer DJ Frank E and he had uses his melody with Calvin knowing. Thankfully Calvin was then credited as a featured writer on the song and the situation was resolved. I believe to this day and it’s pretty damn obvious that Tommy Mottola used Jennifer as a pawn in his plan to ruin Mariah’s career as revenge. He put Jennifer out there as his new golden girl replacing Mariah and this helped the false narrative of feud between Mariah and Jennifer when neither artist has ever said anything negative about each other and Jennifer has said in interviews that she loves Mariah as an artist.

This became very long winded but I had to discuss this because I’ve had enough but I will say this. Have you notice a theme in the trendy to hate? Because I have. They’re all women. Women are trend to hate and men get all the glory huh? Below is all the songs I mentioned and chicagojlover on Twitter did a thread in regards all the ghost singing rumours that needs to go viral.

https://youtu.be/yy5nkChQ2E0

https://youtu.be/6kXIC_6wQgM

https://youtu.be/3mC2ixOAivA

https://youtu.be/JeTE5cnkhGc

https://youtu.be/g8MyX_ewXfM

https://youtu.be/lbh7RFWS4Ro

https://twitter.com/chicagojlover/status/1114197870519967749?s=21

[classyfoxdestiny]

After Afghanistan Withdrawal, Questions in US on Who Got it Wrong

After Afghanistan Withdrawal, Questions in US on Who Got it Wrong

With the US withdrawal from Afghanistan officially complete, the White House is set to begin the difficult process of reviewing the chaotic and deadly evacuation operation that lurched into high gear after Kabul fell to the Taliban, forcing Biden officials to confront how they got things wrong in Afghanistan and ramping up the blame game inside the administration.

The internal assessment, known as a “hotwash,” will examine “everything that happened in this entire operation from start to finish and the areas of improvement, where we can do better, where we can find holes or weaknesses and plug them as we go forward,” national security adviser Jake Sullivan said last month.

But administration officials and members of Congress are not waiting for that analysis to start pointing fingers. The White House has publicly blamed many external factors for the chaos, including former President Donald Trump’s February 2020 deal with the Taliban and the Afghan security forces themselves, who President Joe Biden and his aides have said refused to fight for their own country.

Privately, White House and State Department officials have grumbled about why they are getting the bulk of the blame rather than the intelligence community, which they say failed to predict just how quickly Kabul would fall. Many officials are also angry at the rosier assessments presented by US envoy Zalmay Khalilzad, who they say should have been more realistic about the Taliban’s true intentions.

But intelligence officials and lawmakers in both parties charge that the White House is trying to use the intelligence community as a scapegoat. They argue that the National Security Council and the State Department ignored the grim intelligence assessments in the spring and summer that warned the government could quickly collapse — and that the White House overruled the Pentagon’s desire to keep US troops in Afghanistan before Biden originally announced the withdrawal in April.

The private quarreling is poised to quickly spill into public view with lawmakers on both sides of the aisle — newly incensed following the deaths of 13 service members and at least 170 Afghans last week at the hands of ISIS — preparing for public hearings beginning this month on the administration’s handling of the withdrawal. Republicans have hammered Biden’s response to the crisis, and the hearings will give them a public forum to criticize the President and the response heading into the 2022 midterm elections.

“Everything that’s happening in Afghanistan right now lays solely at the feet of Joe Biden,” Rep. Mike Rogers of Alabama, the top Republican on the House Armed Services Committee, told CNN last week. “He made the final decision. He’s the reason we left the way we left.”

Biden’s top national security officials — Sullivan, Secretary of State Antony Blinken, Defense Secretary Lloyd Austin and Joint Chiefs of Staff Chairman Gen. Mark Milley — have all been targets for criticism, too, as the situation in Afghanistan deteriorated. Some Republicans have called for their resignations, and most are likely to be hauled to Capitol Hill to testify in the coming weeks.

White House officials have closed ranks

White House officials say there has been no talk of firings or dismissals in meetings with Biden, someone who has long been fiercely loyal to his closest advisers. They’ve closed ranks around Sullivan, focused more on making sure he had the support to do his job than trying to undercut him, two officials said.

“We aren’t the Trump White House,” one official cracked. Several officials said they know the attempts to point fingers or cast blame among the various agencies participating in the evacuation will be intense in the coming days as officials move to protect their own equities.

But the White House has kept a close eye on the criticism, particularly from Democratic corners, multiple officials said. While officials say they know congressional hearings and investigations are coming, they also know Democrats control those committees in both chambers. At least for now.

Amid the intensified scrutiny, the White House has in recent days been phoning Democratic lawmakers — including the chairman of the Senate Intelligence Committee, Sen. Mark Warner of Virginia — and urging them to publicly defend the administration’s response, people familiar with the outreach said. A spokeswoman for Warner declined to comment.

So far, however, such support has been hard to come by. Warner and Democratic Sen. Bob Menendez of New Jersey, the chairman of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, have been highly critical of the evacuation operation and neither has defended the President publicly.

Even Biden’s closest ally in the Senate, Democratic Sen. Chris Coons of Delaware, has indicated his support for “a thorough after-action review about the strikingly rapid fall of the Afghan military and government, the planning and coordination for an evacuation, and the alarming crush of Afghans and Americans now urgently seeking to leave Kabul.”

Some Democrats have defended Biden, like Sen. Chris Murphy of Connecticut, who said on CNN’s “State of the Union” Sunday that the chaos surrounding the evacuation was likely to occur no matter when the Afghan government fell.

“When Congress does this oversight, I want to make sure that it’s over the last 20 years, not just the last two months,” Murphy said. “Because to believe that there was some way to do this evacuation in a way that didn’t have panic on the ground, that didn’t have a risk of loss of life, I think is the same kind of fantasy thinking that led us to stay in Afghanistan for 10 years too long, even when we knew the Afghan forces couldn’t stand up for themselves.”

In his speech marking the end of the 20-year war Wednesday, Biden defended the decision to withdraw and the chaotic evacuation operation that followed, saying he was “not going to extend this forever war.” The President said the US withdrawal was conducted under the assumption that 300,000 Afghan security forces would be a “strong adversary” to fight against the Taliban.

“That assumption — that the Afghan government would be able to hold on for a period of time beyond military drawdown — turned out not to be accurate,” Biden acknowledged.

Warning signs of a rapid Taliban takeover missed?

The handling of the evacuation and the acute terrorist threats that ultimately resulted in the deadly suicide bombing last Thursday will be scrutinized heavily. But the larger question will be how the administration was caught so off guard by the complete Taliban takeover of the country, to the point that the US military was forced to rely on its former enemies to provide Americans with safe passage to Kabul’s airport.

Intelligence officials, for their part, say they are not to blame. One senior intelligence official noted that a rapid Taliban takeover was consistently presented to policymakers as a real possibility. As recently as last month, another source said, the intelligence community assessed that the Taliban were pursuing a full military takeover of the country rather than a negotiated political settlement.

But Biden and the National Security Council chose to put greater stock in the more optimistic assessments that the Afghan government would be able to hold out for at least a year, other officials said, long enough for the US to complete a withdrawal and evacuation before a Taliban takeover.

“We consistently identified the risk of a rapid collapse of the Afghan government. We also grew more pessimistic about the government’s survival as the fighting season progressed,” a senior intelligence official recently told CNN.

The disconnect over the intelligence has played out publicly. After the Taliban took control of Kabul, Milley commented on the intelligence assessment at a Pentagon news conference, saying the time frame of the Afghan government’s collapse “was widely estimated and ranged from weeks to months and even years following our departure.”

“There was nothing that I or anyone else saw that indicated a collapse of this army and this government in 11 days,” Milley said.

But a former intelligence official with experience in Afghanistan argued that the assessment of the government falling within weeks “puts anyone on notice that imminent collapse is likely.”

“That’s the opposite of an intelligence failure,” the former official said.

Why didn’t evacuations start earlier?

Even with rosier assessments in hand, the situation on the ground nevertheless deteriorated rapidly with the Taliban advancing across Afghanistan in the weeks before they overran Kabul. As a result, one question lawmakers will home in on is why evacuations of Americans and Afghans who had helped the US military over two decades didn’t start sooner, as it became clearer that the Taliban were winning.

“There were numerous indicators that this was possible,” said Rep. Jason Crow, a Colorado Democrat and former Army Ranger on the House Intelligence Committee. “In fact, a number of members of Congress, including me, going back to April, have warned that we could be in a situation like this, and that’s why we’ve actually been pushing for the SIV (Special Immigrant Visa program) evacuation to begin months ago.”

In mid-July, a group of US diplomats wrote a classified cable to Blinken warning that swift action needed to be taken because they believed the situation could rapidly deteriorate and they feared a catastrophe. A task force to help Special Immigrant Visas applicants get processed wasn’t started until July, just weeks before the Afghan government’s collapse.

The White House has said the administration didn’t want to create the impression, through mass evacuations early on, that Afghan President Ashraf Ghani was incapable of holding together his government as the Taliban advanced.

But even as the Taliban gained more territory, the withdrawal of US troops and contractors continued apace, leaving the Afghan security forces increasingly vulnerable. Afghan Gen. Sami Sadat, pushing back on Biden’s claim that “American troops cannot and should not be fighting in a war and dying in a war that Afghan forces are not willing to fight for themselves,” recalled in a recent op-ed how Afghan helicopter pilots were effectively grounded when departing contractors, on orders from the Pentagon, removed their missile-defense systems. The removal of those systems was confirmed by a person with direct knowledge of the matter.

Rep. Mike Quigley, an Illinois Democrat on the House Intelligence Committee, said there were long-term signs that the Afghan security forces would be unable to operate on their own.

“I think the principal thing you look at is was there an honest assessment” from the Pentagon of the Afghan military, Quigley said. “I’d talk to the generals.”

Multiple US officials have instead suggested that much of the blame for what is unfolding in Kabul rests with Sullivan and the National Security Council, which despite holding a high volume of meetings on Afghanistan in recent months has often lacked decisiveness when it comes to implementing policy recommendations.

One official characterized the council’s deliberation process on Afghanistan, including the evacuation, as “paralyzing,” adding that the current policy confusion and uncertainty is similar to the “hand-wringing and indecisiveness of the Obama administration.”

“I think the IC got it right,” said Rep. Mike McCaul of Texas, the top Republican on the House Foreign Affairs Committee. “They had a very grim assessment the whole summer leading up to this, and they just ignored it and they decided to go with this rosy State Department dream that we’re going to work out some agreement with the Taliban at the last minute, and guess what — it didn’t work.”

Public fight brewing

The contradicting explanations and behind-the-scenes finger pointing are just the start of what’s likely to become a public fight playing out in high-profile congressional hearings.

House Foreign Affairs Chairman Gregory Meeks, a New York Democrat, said last week that he’s considering bringing his committee back early from the House’s monthlong recess in order to hear publicly from Blinken. Multiple Senate committees are preparing for hearings with top officials.

“I don’t know who’s said what to the President yet,” said Rep. Jim Langevin, a Rhode Island Democrat who has been critical of the administration’s evacuation.

Langevin said he wanted to hear from Biden’s senior national security advisers “to actually ask those pointed questions about who told the President what, and who ultimately made the decision despite what other maybe contrary views might have been offered.”

Many of the questions will go back to Biden’s original decision to leave in April, when the President went against military leaders who were advocating for keeping US troops in Afghanistan longer. Lawmakers are also likely to press on the slow pace of evacuations before the Taliban took control last month through the decision to rely on the Taliban for security at the Kabul airport and to finish the withdrawal despite Americans still stuck in Afghanistan who wanted to leave.

Republicans have charged that Biden bears the primary responsibility for what’s unfolded in Afghanistan. House Minority Leader Kevin McCarthy has held numerous news conferences and public events over the past week with top GOP national security lawmakers to hit the President on Afghanistan, though the California Republican has struggled himself to say whether he would keep US troops in Afghanistan indefinitely.

GOP members are preparing to question Biden’s team on multiple fronts. They’ve requested that the Biden administration turn over its “evacuation plan” and called for top officials to testify. Republican Rep. Michael Waltz of Florida, who sits on the House Armed Services Committee, said on Monday that Khalilzad, the US lead in peace talks with the Taliban, “should be the first called before Congress.”

Seeing the chaos that has unfolded in Kabul, many officials turned their ire toward Khalilzad, given his central role in crafting the Trump administration deal with the Taliban last year that required US troops to be out of Afghanistan by May 1, 2021 — a deal that the White House has said effectively tied Biden’s hands and left the administration no choice but to withdraw US forces without requiring any real concessions from the Taliban.

One senior Western official who had been involved in the talks, however, noted that Biden had long been determined to withdraw US troops from Afghanistan. The official said that some in the administration have therefore viewed keeping Khalilzad in his role as a way to have a “fall guy” who could shoulder much of the blame if things went awry. The State Department said Wednesday that Khalilzad had returned to Washington from Doha, Qatar, where the US is relocating its Afghanistan diplomatic presence.

“Why keep him involved when everything has gone so wrong?” the Western official said. “One reason is because you fundamentally just don’t want to change the policy of surrender and withdrawal.

Read all the Latest News, Breaking News and Coronavirus News here

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[poison-basil]

Part 10: Without You - Chapter 2/3

It was a horrible thing to find out that they only had a handful of pictures of Temperance. Dick sadly thought about the numerous images they had of everyone else, Damian included, though he was the last to join recently. Granted that most of these images were taken by Temp herself.

Spread out before him, Dick has five pictures and a usb laid on his small coffee table. They were all candied pictures of her, at different ages. God how could they not have more pictures?

Dick feels himself leaning forward like he is trying to drink in every detail. These are ones that Alfred had took over the years and sent them to him in a tidy care package with leftovers for him to put into the freezer. It warmed him inside to think about Alfred, he wondered how he was doing, over the past few weeks Dick’s been cooped up in his apartment, trying his best not to think.

He reaches over and picks up the most recent picture of Temperance. He leans back into his sofa and drinks in all the detail he can. The picture is of Temperance sitting in the cave at the computer, holding a cup of coffee and blowing on it in one hand and tucking her long black hair behind her ear with the other. She looks so calm, warm and alive , in this moment that it hurts.

Dick doesn’t know what to do with himself now. He is sat alone in his apartment in Bludhaven, looking at pictures of Temperance. The only other thing he has of her are feeds from the manor and batcave, of her meandering around or training.

He has to go back to work soon, or he’ll be let go from the force and he hasn’t been out as Nightwing in a while after benching himself for putting three small time criminals in hospital. He laughs at the thought, this is exactly why Temperance entered the night scene to begin with, to help Bruce when he was nearing the line he wouldn’t be able to come back from.

It’s nights like these where Dick feels jealousy curl in his stomach at how Bruce had Temperance to look after him in his darkest hours and how Dick wishes he had the same. As soon as it comes it washed away by the guilt that pours into Dick, making him curl up and pull his legs to his chest, moaning into the darkness of this apartment.

The pictures stare at Dick as if mocking him with the images of the past and showing how alive she was in these moments. He can no longer look at her smiles in the morning, feel her warmth through the much needed hugs, smell her comforting scent at night as he tries to forget the horrors of the night and never again can he hear the tinkle of her laughter at his jokes that even he knows are bad but never fail to get her looking at him like he just hung the moon for her.

Though it’s too late for Temperance to be immortalised into more pictures, Dick makes a promise to himself to take more of the family, whether they like it or not.

With a sigh Dick slouches back into his sofa and sets in for another night of solitude.

--

Waking up, tied to a chair was not an unfamiliar sensation to Dick. However waking up up in a dining hall across from one Ra’s al Ghul.

It was strange to see Ra’s looking old and worn out. Usually when they saw him, he was fresh from the pit and ready to fight, but all Dick saw right now was an old man worn down by the world.

“Ah, Richard, good to see you’ve finally joined us.” It galls Dick that Ra’s calls him that, only five people call him that and the loves them dearly, not this monster, this man who made Temperance and Bruce so uncomfortable.

“Well, I would of joined sooner, ya know, if you thought to let me know this was going to happen, rather than taking me during a patrol.” The false cheer in his voice hurts. Some days he damned this persona that he made, he might not be as fun as Nightwing as he was Dick Grayson, but someone had to be the light to the little bundle of darkness that was their family.

Since Temperance has been gone, it’s gotten harder to always be the guy that people expect to look on the bright side, always have a joke ready and smiles for everyone.

Ra’s smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Had I thought you’d come willingly, I would would’ve sent you an invite.” There is something off about this, well of course there is it’s Ra’s, but they never talked like this, like they just had dinner together on occasion, but Dick couldn’t think what he might be up to.

Dick eyes Ra’s, takes him in, sitting at the head of the table. “Can you please cut to the chase Ra’s,” Dick shifts in his chair, trying to make it so the ropes didn’t bite into him too much. “You obviously have something you want to say…” He trails off.

Now that Dick thinks about it, no one has heard about Ra’s for a couple of months, not since… Not since Temperance , Dick thinks he understands now, why Ra’s looks they way he does, it must’ve hit him hard too. Dick winces inside at the thought of having anything in common with this man.

“Since Temperance’s untimely death I have been…” Dick feels sick as soon as he mentions Temperance. There is a pause as Ra’s searches for the right words. “Looking into a way that would bring her back to us.”

“There wasn’t a body--” Dick cuts himself off. He shouldn’t be helping.

“Oh, I know that Richard, if there was I feel as though my Grandson would’ve already brought it to me.” Dick feels his eyes widen at this. “As it is, I am already aware of the circumstances around her death, I have given great effort to this, if it were that simple Temperance would be with me right now.” There is a smugness to his tone that has Dick’s stomach rolling.

Never since his moment, was Dick glad that there was nothing for them to bury.

“Then… What do you want from… me?” It always scared Dick the lengths the al Ghul’s went to produce and prolong life.

Ra’s steeples his fingers in front of himself. ‘ Classic ’ thinks Dick, he wonders why bad guys do that before revealing their plans. Dick forces himself not to roll his eyes at the action.

“Well Richard, I was thinking that since there wasn’t a body to have, the pit is rendered useless this time.” Ra’s gets up from his seat and come around the table to stand behind Dick. “So I have to think of other methods, not favourable of course…” Dick feels a hand on his shoulder and feels a shiver run down his spine. “But their are other, methods , in which we can,” Ra’s mulls on the word for a second, “ replicate, the young detective…” His voice leads off, letting Dick connect the rest.

“You mean--” Dick swallows, “You mean to clone Temperance? ” There is a shrill tone to his voice. How could Ra’s think of doing something like that?

“Of course Richard.” The steadiness of his voice makes Dick feel sick. “What else is to be done? I could of another way, but that would be an impure version of the lovely Detective”

He cannot stop himself from asking, “Impure?” What else could this mad man be thinking about?

Ra’s hands are on both of Dick’s shoulders now. He gives a slight squeeze as he leans down and talks directly next to his ear. “Well there is the method of conception,” Ra’s leans up and walks back to his seat. “Though the idea that her DNA would be mix with someone else’s would be detestable. “ Dick fists his hands as Ra’s takes his seat. “But understand I did think about using my own,” Bile rises in Dicks throat at the thought. “But, I would much rather take pleasure in her flesh at the same time, if I was to do it that way.” He squeezes his eyes shut at the image of them tangled in silk sheets Temperance’s face twisted in agony.

“But as you well know Detective, young Temperance is gone, so I must make means elsewhere.”

“You can’t!” Dick shouts, “I won’t let you do that!” He grits out, making a renewed effort to get out of the bindings.

“I cannot do it without you Richard…” Ra’s had steepled his fingers again, this time touching them to his lips. “Red Robin was smart and always made sure that any DNA spilled or left near me was taken way or removed. I had thought I’d outsmarted her a while back and had a small supply of her DNA should anything happen to her, though that has been taken.” Dick releases a breath, glad that Temperance always had contingencies and plans for this sort of thing. “So I need something from you.”

Dick pauses his struggling and looks Ra’s in the eye confused as to what he could be alluding to. “Me?”

“Why yes, I need you to get something for me,” The look of hunger in Ra’s as he addresses him makes Dick lean away, despite the distance between them. “I understand that Wayne has all of his Robin’s DNA on record and filed away. I need you to collect some of Temperance’s for me, enough for there to be three attempts at the cloning process, should there be a problem.”

Dick sits with his mouth slightly open, he keeps trying but no words leave his mouth. Ra’s unblinking stare makes him want to shrink away.

“No.” Dick feels proud of himself for finally getting something out there. However Ra’s levels a glare at Dick, his distaste clear.

“No? Detective, surely you jest.” Watching as Ra’s grips the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white from the pressure. “Do you not want Temperance around again?”

“Don’t make this about that , of course I want her back, but not like this! Do not twist my feelings for her! I’m not like you!” Dick lets out a harsh breath, his teeth aching from gritting to hard.

“Richard, surely you --” The rest of his sentence is lost to the loud smash of glass from behind him, Dick swivels his head as much as he can to see what was going on. Jason rises from his landing dusting the shards of glass off his jacket.

“Sorry ’m late fellas,” Jason’s grin is easy to hear in his tone. “But the main event has arrived.” He pulls out his guns, cocking off the safety and leveling them on Ra’s.

“Ah, it seems as though our time is up Richard, just keep in mind what I’ve told you.” Ra’s pushes his chair back and and turns around making his way over to the large double doors, his robes billowing as he walks. Jason doesn’t lower his guns until the door closes behind Ra’s.

Jason puts his guns away as he make his way towards Dick. “Rude,” He huffs, “Didn’t even offa me a drink.” Dick smiles up at him. Happy to see his brother. Jason crouches behind him, pulling out a knife and cutting through the restraints. Dick groans at the relieved pressure, blood rushing back into his arms and Dick knows that any minute now he is going to have a numbing pins and needles sensation in his arms.

“There ya go Dicky, let’s get you outta here.” Jason grips Dick’s upper arm and pulls him out of the chair.

“Thanks Little Wing.”

“Come on, Demon Spawn is waitin’ in tha jet, he ent gonna be happy if we take much longer.” Dick follows Jason as he moves towards the window and sees the ropes dangling from the jet. Dick grins as he gets on the ledge of window, preparing to make the jump.

“See you in bit Wingding.” Jason is leaping and grabbing the rope before Dick can retort. He huffs out a laugh grinning as he leaps from the ledge.

--

The last two weeks have been gruelling. Dick is currently back in Gotham, looking forward to seeing the family and spending some good quality time with Damian. Work has been a nightmare, cases piling up faster than he can solve them, struggling under the stress.

It never ended, due to the fact that at night he went out as Nightwing, hoping to help out and keep people safe, though though that never seemed to be enough, there were always more cases being filed in the morning.

Sitting in front of the computer in Bruce’s chair he reclined back and stared at all the evidence and information compiling, he hoped that this would come up with something to help out, but he would have to wait on that. Currently in yoga bottoms and long tank Dick can feel the cold of the cave setting in. Getting up from the chair he went over to the gym equipment.

He dusts up his hands before jumping to grab the trapeze bar. Dick will be forever grateful that Bruce bought all this stuff for him and them kept it all in working order. This was one of his favorite things about coming back.

Doing a slow warm up routine, Dick slowly empties his mind, concentrating on the movements. There was something else that Dick liked about this, it always brought memories of a young Temperance. She would look up at him in awe as she watched him do tricks, trying to impress her.

Though he would always regret being a bad brother to Jason when he was Robin, there was nothing he was more grateful for than trying to make up for that by showering Temperance with attention trying to make up for it.

He remembers her face, when he told her he was going to train her. The way her face lit up and eyes shone with amazement at having the chance. He can see it now, the love she held for him, the belief that he was everything good and kind in the world. He will regret that it took him so long to figure it out and then ask her out. But there was nothing he could do.

Temperance would train morning till evening, trying to get her flips just right. Training till she was red in the face and panting. Trying so hard to hold onto her place with them. Never believing that she would be as good as Jason and himself.

Dick let out a slow breath, his mind calm as he moves. Though Dick hated to think about it, he couldn’t stop thinking over his meeting with Ra’s and about what he said.

It was getting harder some days, to ally himself with Ra’s thinking. Desperate for her steadying touch and gentle words reassuring him. But he knows it wouldn’t be her, it would look and talk like her, but it would have none of her worldly experience that makes her Temperance.

He had to let Bruce know what Ra’s wanted with him, make sure that all of her DNA was destroyed. He couldn’t have the temptation. Bruce had, at first, resisted the notion but came around after hearing about Ra’s other insinuation that conception was a option, though they loved Damian dearly, they didn’t want to happen again.

There was nothing more warming than talking to other people about antics at Temperance got up to. He loved hearing about her in different situations that he never got to see. It’s the closest he can get to being with her anymore than watching footage of her from security cameras.

Dick repeated a swing a couple of times before flipping off the bar and landing on the mats and takes a quick breath.

“Grayson.”

Dick turns sharply towards the stairs to see Damian descending the steps. Dick makes his way over to him and ruffles his hair. Damian ducks away and makes his way to the sparring mats giving Dick a pointed look.

“Hey Dami, how was school?” Dick moves to join him. Smiling as he watches Damian's face scrunch up.

Damian shifts into his stance and waits for Dick, “Tt, tedious. As always Grayson.” They start to circle each other. “Being taught subjects I have already mastered by inferior minds.” Dick laughs, grinning at his smart little brother. No matter how hard he’s tried to get Damian to think of his teachers in a positive light, it always fails, though he is glad Damian has stopped telling the teachers what he thinks about them to their face and comes home to vent about them.

They go through the motions of a usual spar dodging and weaving each others attacks. “Well I’m sure you must be passing all your essays and tests with flying colours.” Dick says, smiling down at the younger man.

Surprised by the colour rising on Damian’s face, Dick isn’t prepared for the jab to his left side. Damian seems just as shocked that he got the hit in that he stops.

Coughing and lightly clutching his side he tries to catch Damian’s eye. “Hey little D, you ok?” he hears a quiet tut come from him and watches as he crosses his arms, his body language screaming defiance.

“Nothing Grayson.”

“Hey now, you can talk to me, what’s wrong?” Dick grabs Damian’s shoulders, trying to send comfort to the younger man.

“The tests are fine Richard, the essays though…” He trails off, his mouth forming a frown and eyebrows scrunching up. “Drake --” He cuts off quickly looking Dick in the eye before looking away.

“Come on Dami, you can tell me.”

“She helped me,” He rushed out the sentence as though he was going to be reprimanded for having been helped. “She would look through my essays before I submitted them.” Dick’s heart warmed at the thought of Temperance helping Damian with his work.

Dick nodded, encouraging Damian to carry on. “Some of what I write is not deemed appropriate by the faculty. When Drake found out, she said she would proofread my work. Since she--” There’s a pause as he works his jaw, “Since she has been gone, I have had no one to do it and again they have the same problem.”

Dick winces, he feels sorry for the kid. It’s hard for him to get ideas across in ways that people in life deem ok.

“I can he--” Dick is cut off by Damian’s raised, he can see his gaze burning.

“Don’t be stupid Richard, though I appreciate the offer, I know you are too busy to be given this task, I won’t ask Father either, since he has become sole owner of Wayne Ind. again.”

Dick runs this through his head again, he has to admit that Damian’s right. He doesn’t have the time and neither does Bruce. But there was someone he could think of.

“Have you thought of asking Jason?”

Now Damian is giving him a look, as though he is worried that Dick is going insane.

“He’s a literature buff, I’m sure that he wouldn’t mind helping you out!” Dick giddily bounces on the spot thinking about it.

“I’m sure Todd would rather do anything else.” Dick can see that Damian is trying not to get his hopes up about it.

“No, no, I’m sure that he’ll do it!” Damian begrudgingly nods is accent to Dick’s idea.

“It is on your head if this all goes south Grayson.” Damian makes his way to the stairs, leaving Dick on the mats.

“Sure thing!” He calls after him, he flops down onto the mats and spreads out his arms and legs, grinning to himself. Today feels like a good day.