#I realize it’s because they’re cheap to make and low risk and they can just use the same set of scripts with the names changed | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

auckie · 1 month

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waiting for the beta fish post to drop ill wait however long it takes idc 🦦

Okay. I’m ready. Nothing demotivates me more than losing progress on like. A game, or word document or whatever. A lost ask is like a grain of sand dropped into the ocean.

Anyways!

So betas are often sold in little cups, right? And the people at say, pet smart tell you, ‘yeah a bowl will do’. WRONG! While betas are somewhat low maintenance fish compared to many— a cheap but beautiful option that seemingly needs no filter or heater and very minimal space, it is now widely accepted that this is flat out untrue. Everyone knows males cannot be kept together, but even having just one fish I would highly recommend a ten gallon. May seem excessive but considering that betas do well in high tannin naturalistic setups, you’re going to want to fill this space with plants and hides. What’s more is if you don’t want to do a self filtering tank (which will still require moving water and regular changes/cleanings or refills), it is still generally recommended that you do invest in a filter and heater. I’ve seen some people go about this by using natural sunlight or heat lamps but 1) harder to regulate 2) risks overheating.

I used to keep fish. Betas and a warm fresh water 1 gallon with a few species together. I don’t anymore for a few reasons. Mostly the upkeep, and because for me personally. I just don’t like keeping fish. Any animal that’s bigger than your thumb, if it lives in a cage or tank and spends most of its time in there. This isn’t to say it’s wrong by any means, but like birds…I’ve just come to think ‘yeah we probably shouldn’t be keeping them outside of their natural habitat esp if they’re highly social or mobile creatures. Moreover with long life spans and high social/mating needs.’ Again! Not condemning the practice for others. It can certainly be done right! But it’s often a lot more time consuming and costly than people realize. Now if you’re willing to invest in what it takes to keep the animal comfortable by all means! Aquarium keeping can be super rewarding, and making naturalistic setups makes for beautiful and calming decor. It’s an amazing hobby. Even if you can’t keep something as simple as duckweed alive for whatever reason, artificial hardscapes with plastic plants and such can still look okay. And a ten gallon + tank vacuum + simple filter and heater really won’t cost you much! I highly recommend looking to YouTubers for tank inspiration, and tips!

If you do decide to go for a 3-5 gallon, or some nontraditional choice of habitats, like a large vase. Well I can’t stop you, and that doesn’t t mean your fish will die. It was a common myth not to long ago that fish couldn’t feel pain, and that their memory spans only lasted for 3 seconds. This is false, and luckily not as widely believed thankfully— but it’s a great example of how people will assume that non mammalian animals have simpler needs due to misunderstanding how their bodies operate, simply because of how different they are than say a cat or dog. Not accusing you of this by any means— you may very well be waaay more informed and aware of this than I am. But it’s a necessary disclaimer.

Other easy to keep fish include neon tetra, fantail guppies (but do not mix them with fish who will nip their tails), and the classic goldfish. another disclaimer about the latter: flushing goldfish thought to be dead, or simply tossing unwanted ones into local water ways has caused them to become a highly invasive species in many areas across North America. Do NOT do this. They’re outcompeting native species due to how fucking hardy they are, and growing to insane sizes. The lack of natural predators and peoples unwillingness to fish for them makes for a particularly nasty pest :/

These aforementioned fish save the goldfish will need the same basic things as a beta, but can be kept in mixed sexed groups, and tetras are often kept with great danio, mollies, and even tiger barbs (who are cute but can be a little aggressive for smaller beginner fish). All of these are available at big chain pet stores for very cheap.

If you’re hellbent on forgoing heaters and filters you could try triops (they don’t require much space but love to dig so have some specific substrate needs, and don’t live very long but can be multigenerational and sustained if done correctly. They’re also insanely cute and entertaining to watch), shrimp (so many different kinds!), snails, or even a mixture of these!

There’s also ecojars. Very cheap to make, and very educational! I love microfauna and follow a lot of YouTubers who’ve had great success making both aquatic and terrestrial ecojars from the local environments around them. If you live by the coast, brackish and saltwater jars are a lot harder, but freshwater ones are very simple! Terrestrial ones are basically just vivariums/terrariums you can even stock by going out to forage for things like snails, slugs, isopods, millipedes, etc. Clean up crew critters do well, but larger predatory insects are a bit harder to keep in an enclosed/self sustaining habitat. That brings us to our next options!

If I can sell you out of aquariums for an easier and possibly cheaper or equal price with a lot less upkeep! But. It involves insects so I’m going to put it under a cut in case that is not something you’re looking for. It’s long too, so feel free to ignore it. BUT! If I’m able to wet your whistle please feel free to ask for more info 🤠

Bugs! Well, arthropods. Such as: isopods (I have rubber duckies and they are doing exceptionally well eating nothing but leaves with the occasional fruit or veggie and calcium sources! They cohabitate with spring tails, harmless soil mites, and terrestrial amphipods. There are many much cheaper and hardier species that are easier to find such as dwarf whites, dairy cows, or even local wild caught ones! Another warning is to NOT dump these outside. And be careful foraging for things from outside for them to eat because you never know what’s been treated with pesticides or beneficial nematodes, or is infested with fungus, mold, or harmful pest species like parasites or mites).

Really all you need for any given species is a little container with a few air holes, substrate such as coco fiber, reptisoil, jungle mix, or your own backyard topsoil which ideally has been baked to sterilize. You can also bake pinecones and oak or magnolia leaves for them to feed on. Crush them up and mix them into the substrate, and add either crushed oyster shells or maybe bits of limestone or coral if you have them available. You can buy cuttlefish bone online as well. They love cork bark, but again, I’m sure if you find and bake bark or bits of drift wood, you can make that work too. They loooove to eat moss, and some species will readily gobble up fish food and bee pollen. Josh’s frogs (as well as other brands) make some specific powder blends that I feed mind. I think it’s called bug burger. The general practice is to create a ‘moist side’ and ‘dry side’ gradient so the isopods have a choice of where to go. They have gills but that doesn’t mean they want to always be drowning in 90% humidity. There’s a lot of beautiful exotic species but they get expensive fast, and are often fond of burrowing or hiding in sphagnum moss so you won’t always see them, and well. They’re usually tiny.

Millipedes are very similar— some are huge and beautiful, some even look like giant isopods (pill millipedes), but burrow, so…you won’t get the most visual bang for your buck.

A lot of people are very fond of finding and keeping jumping spiders. They’re cute to look at and fun to feed, but this requires buying feeders (crickets, meal worms, roaches, or fruit flies depending on size and what’s available near you), but that’s not always everyone’s speed. Plus they don’t live very long once they’re adult size and sexually mature. You can buy them as well but, I prefer to just enjoy them outside. Why take a solid guy out of his environment if he’s not gonna live much longer and is doing his part in ridding your yard of gross bitches? They do a NUMBER on mosquitos.

Beetles! Some species stay grubs for the majority of their lives and will be buried until they’re ready to go out and find love, so as much as I love larger species that are fun to interact with, I’m going to lean towards what I own: the blue feigning death beetle

Very silly little beasts. Very low maintenance! They live in American deserts and are covered by a powdery residue that helps them retain moisture. You can make a mix of sand and coco fiber and keep them in an open top tank (I keep mine in a huge fish bowl), and provide them with hides such as cholla wood or cork bark, rocks and even plastic decor. They will eat almost anything and get most of their moisture from their diet. I feed mine cut up fruits and veggies, the occasional roach, beetle jellies, bug burger, chicken feed, cat food (wet or dry), sugar water in little bottle caps with a sea sponge, moss, or cotton ball in them, fish flakes, freeze dried peas, bee pollen, and even like. Leftover bread or popcorn so long as it’s unseasoned. They can go a while without food or water too, so handle neglect well. But so long as you give them a ‘wet sweet food’ and protein at least once a week you should be Gucci. They’re diurnal afaik and will begin moving about when it’s light out. They don’t need heat lamps or anything of the sort.

They rarely bite and when they do it’s because you have food on your hand, and it doesn’t hurt. They can’t climb or fly, and play dead when threatened. Very cute to watch, and hold, and they’re constantly fucking. Sometimes a male will see another male trying to feel up a larger female, and will climb atop them both and start trying to have sex with the male. I’ve seen two males feeling up and trying to go at it with a rock. They’re so funny. But it’s very difficult to breed them in captivity. They live a while tho so hey, you got a while to research and experiment! Because of this, however, most available for purchase are wild caught. And I personally am not crazy about that.

Scorpions! There’s a good amount of largely harmless species that make for great pets! Asian forest and emperor are the first two that pop into my head. They glow under UV light, making them easy to find, and don’t have to eat super often. The one I own loves to run up to the side of its enclosure whenever I walk by, throwing its claws up to show me it means business. I’ve never been stung but I hear it’s like a bee sting. The two species listed are cheap and prefer it moist, and afaik don’t really sting once they’re mature. They prefer to use their claws to do the talking. Below is a random species under UV light:

And finally, the most visually pleasing, long living, and low maintenance yet entertaining things I own: tarantulas. Given that I work at a tarantula breeder and am incredibly biased feel free to ignore this next bit, but also hear me out. I’ve never been afraid of tarantulas, but used to be a bit wigged out by spiders as a kid. T’s, at least the new world species I own, are so. Much more stationary, slow, and just. Nonchalant than most true spiders I’ve kept. You will usually know if and when they’re about to strike.

Orb weavers have never done well for me, but I’ve had some luck with cobweb weavers (they don’t tend to remake their webs every fucking day which helps with setting up a habitat), but they just don’t live very long— and when something has such a short lifespan I feel guilty for keeping it from its primary goal of breeding. Tarantulas, however, can live for up to 20+ years. And you can make money breeding them! But a lot of discords or Facebook groups dedicated to this are. Like full of the most obnoxious people you’ve ever met. Males don’t live as long, they usually croak after sexually maturing and then molting again. If they’re lucky they might make it one more. And they don’t have a great chance when it comes to breeding and surviving. Depends on the breeder controlling the situation. I’ve read that the longest lived one on record was a female Goliath bird eater* clocking in at over 30 years old. That’s a fucking cat. Not all get huge either! There’s dwarf species, and many are arboreal meaning you’re likely to see it often!

The shop I work at, along with most tarantula breeders recommend a GBB as a first time spider. I fucking Do Not. They’re aggressive, cute as spiderlings but less cute as adults, gross (web and bolases and shit everywhere), kick urticating hairs* that drive me nuts. And they just suck.

I have two coworkers who follow me and will strongly disagree but I don’t care because I know I’m right on this one: my top beginner picks are the caribena (formerly avicularia) versicolor.

As slings they are bright blue and so fucking funny. They walk like a cat with mittens on and their urticating hairs are so fucking mild that you won’t even notice them. Their red mouths stick out like a shitty lipstick on their stupid blue bodies and they love to shake their butts before they jump, like a cat but way worse. They’re not terribly fast and their bite is nothing. It’s worthless. They’re…somewhat sensitive and do like to randomly die, but so long as you keep them in an arboreal enclosure with ventilation and a weekly misting? You’re golden baby. They eat well, are arboreal so you’ll always see them, and can be kept in fairly small enclosures for quite some time! Here’s what they look like as adults:

Still pretty! And not scarily massive.

I own an even more sensitive species: the Brazilian jewel tarantula. It’s a dwarf species but stupid expensive and makes a shitty trapdoor so you don’t see it often which is a shame bc they’re beautiful and so adorable. Similar mannerisms and levels of ‘this piece of shit can’t hurt me’. Ideally you won’t be handling them but, well, I can’t blame you if you do bc it’s fun. I don’t own any species that care hurt me bc why would I want to?

For some. More common first time reccs tho, I would probably say the Arizona blonde (very chill and fuzzy. Somewhat more itchy), the Brazilian black (a little less stunning but also pretty chill and fun to watch because they will completely rearrange the furniture of their habitat for no reason), the Chilean rose hair (read previous)— basically any grammastola or brachypelma species. Hamorii (Mexican red knees) look cool. Another controversial pick are cyriocosmus. They have golden hearts on their butts! They’re pricier though, and again, other t keepers act as if they’re hard. They’re not. Most new world species are simple if you just research them— my boss often will balk and laugh when she hears people are buying 1/2 inch slings and putting them in like, 5 gallon tanks. But it’s literally fine. They def don’t need that much space but if they burrow. Look for the hole. Give them enough substrate, keep it moist but not sopping. Ventilation is key. Some people use empty, clear take out bins or medicine vials to keep these things in, and that’s fine so long as there’s air holes. You can use a soldering iron or small drill, or even a pin to poke some into the container, depending on how hard it is. Even larger spiders have been kept in big empty jars and such. You feed them once a week unless they’re in premolt (they get fat and shiny or lose their hair on their asses and may make a molt mat of web, or a little enclosed webbing bubble, or bury themselves and won’t eat during this time which, depending on species, could be a while), or whenever they look skinny!

If they’re arboreal give them a vertical climb, be it a real plant or plastic, cork bark, even aquarium decor. So long as it’s not sharp because tarantulas are surprisingly delicate.

Feed them something the size of their ass give or take, and disable it using little, sharp feeding tongs (grab the head and drop it in near them, or hold it to them at a distance and if it’s moving they’ll usually strike). Some super tiny slings will even eat springtails. Larger, adult T’s can take multiple dubia or even big ass roaches like hissers. It’s kind of sad feeding them off but, the spiders gotta eat 🤷‍♂️ if you’re interested and have any questions on other species, or the ones I listed, lemme know!

Okay. And by far. The least wanted or liked recommendation I have. Are roaches 😔 there’s some beautiful species out there man. Hissers are super fucking docile, but prolific. They hiss when scared, but never bite. They don’t even eat each other in times of duress! They do have spiky leg bits which can scare some people off. But take a look at emerald roaches (which are. Expensive 😶), don’t they look like cool beetles? They’re arboreal! Then there’s the table mountain roach, which SQUEAKS when scared! The domino roach! I’ve posted pics of molting roaches many times— they’re soft and white and have huge, mantid like eyes. It’s very disarming and cute. They’re so much more intelligent than we give them credit for. The roaches I keep at work know when I’m about to feed them and they all clamor at the tops of their bins, and once the feed is in they all grab a bit and run off with it in their mouths like dogs! Many tropical, burrowing species are basically little cows, and many are amazing parents which is a rarity in the insect world!

Most of these fellers can do well in a plastic bin with a top, with ventilation of course. And the usual substrate, hides like cork bark and rocks and moss, misting, and similar feed to isopods and the beetles I mentioned. As for price and availability, well, you’re probably only going to be able to find hissers and dubia unless you have a niche store near you or are willing to have them shipped. And while I love both of them. They are gross. They’re R strategists to a T and will multiply to the point that they require sell offs or regular culling. Which, if you own species that eat them, it can be a win win! But they also are hard to keep clean. So I probably, actually do not recommend them 😞 the less prolific, more beautiful species are cleaner, but more expensive. But hey, I had to shoot my shot, right?

Okay. Well. Thank you for listening if you got this far. Good luck either way and thanks for being patient!

*Goliath bird eaters and any similar named bird eating tarantula do not. I mean they *can* eat birds yeah but that’s just a shocking name that stuck. Don’t let that scare you. But also that species sucks so it doesn’t matter

*pretty sure I put another asterisk in here but I can’t find it and don’t remember what it was for sorry. Shoot me an ask if it was like. Killing you ig

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ppersonna · 3 years

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ride or die - myg | m

we don't need money to feel good cause you're the ride or die, the rest of my life. don't need a party to feel high, we're like the modern version of bonnie and clyde , bonnie & clyde, yuqi

✹ summary- there’s nothing in the world you wouldn’t do for Min Yoongi.

✹ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw

✹ pairing- min yoongi x reader

✹ word count- 1.6k

✹ genre- hmm idk. maybe some angst, some smut, some action?, established relationship, criminal!au

✹ chapter warnings- sexual content, mentions of criminal acts/police, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), mentions of death, guns, unhealthy obsession with each other lol

✹ a/n- hi loves! i wanted to challenge myself and write something a bit more prose-heavy than any sort of plot or semblance of plot. i hope you enjoy this random drabble that wouldnt leave my brain!!! thanks to @ladyartemesia @xjoonchildx @untaemedqueen and @nomseok for looking over it for me and helping me feel better about it LOLLL. i love u all ALSO PLS LISTEN TO THE SONG BONNIE AND CLYDE BY YUQI IT IS AMAZING AND WHERE I GOT ALL MY INSPO FOR THIS!!

75 mph…

100 mph…

Yoongi’s hand grips tight on the inside of your thigh, fingers pressing into the supple flesh as his foot presses down the gas pedal.

The engine roars, matching the screaming explosion you feel inside your chest. Your veins feel like they’re flowing with the same high-octane fuel that Yoongi’s injected to the engine of the 1969 matte black Camaro.

Yoongi.

There’s nothing in the world you wouldn’t do for Yoongi.

The engine screams to life again, tearing through the otherwise silent car. It won’t be quiet for long. You can hear the distant blaring of police sirens, the low-grade rumble of helicopter wings closing in.

Yoongi simply smirks when you glance at him, eyes focused on the road with one hand on the leather steering wheel and the other rubbing at the skin of your inner thigh.

The sirens sound closer, only streets away now. Yoongi acts as if it’s only you and him, as if there’s nowhere else he’d rather be than right here in this car with you beside him and the bag of prized jewels in the back.

You love him. You love him more than you’ve ever loved another, more than you’d ever convince yourself you’d love again. He’s all-consuming. Yoongi is the cosmos, the universe that holds you within his center.

You’d die for Yoongi.

You’d kill.

“Yoongi,” you breathe, unable to speak any further. You don’t need to. Yoongi knows what you’re saying. He grips your leg tighter and the smirk widens on his face, finally flickering his eyes over to your own.

“I know,” he says. Because he does.

Yoongi gives no sign that he’s scared. He’s the picture of composure as he squeezes the car through narrow streets, tires squealing as he spins the wheel to slide into the next alley way and dodge the cops through yet another neighborhood. He doesn’t even bat an eye as he defends you inside the jobs, gun blazing as he ensures your safety without even a glance back.

He gives no indication that anything can go wrong, as if his mind is already made up that everything will be okay and you’ll both get out, get away, without a scratch.

It’s different when he lays you down. He sets you on the cheap motel mattress with care, like a delicate doll, made of glass and ceramic, one wrong move away from breaking.

He presses his lips to every inch of your body, as if ensuring himself that you’re okay, that you’re here, that he got you out safely. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t want to break the reverent silence of the dingy bedroom that becomes his chapel when he has you in his arms.

Safe.

You’re safe and Yoongi needs hours to remind himself of that, needs more than just kisses and touches. He pushes himself into you slowly, letting the tight heat of your core remind him just how alive you are. He opens you up like a prayer, spreading your legs and gasping for air as he recites the only invocation he knows, the only one he believes in.

“I love you.”

Sweaty and overheated, your hands grasp for any part of Yoongi you can--his arms, his vascular hands. You need more, need to feel him in more ways than you can count. Yoongi feels so good buried deep inside you, rocking his hips against your own and making your body scream with pent-up desire.

“I love you, Yoongi,” you nearly scream as he hits a spot within you that makes you forget about the whole world around you. “Only you.”

Yoongi doesn’t believe in a God, doesn’t believe in any higher power. But he thinks the closest to heaven is the way you cry his name for him, the way you keen for more as he spills himself inside you.

The duffel bag of dollar bills is heavy in your lap as you throw yourself into the Camaro, running from the high rise bank, and Yoongi slams on the gas pedal before you can even close the door.

“Shit!” Your hands grip at the duffel bag, trying to stay afloat in the speeding car. The door closes by itself after he careens down the highway and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“God, that was so fucking good,” Yoongi grins, voice high with excitement and adreneline. “You did so fucking good, baby doll.”

The praise goes straight to your heart, straight to the muscle inside your chest that has Yoongi’s name stamped into each vein, each artery. He’s yours, he’s so wholly yours and you so wholly his, you think you can’t even breathe without him around.

You don’t watch where he drives, too focused on the curve of his cheeks, the way his black hair is pushed back messily. You don’t care where he takes you. All you need is him and the feel of his hand resting on your thigh, a spot made just for him.

Yoongi.

I’d die for you, Yoongi, don’t you know that?

Yoongi finally, blessedly, looks over at you once he’s settled himself onto a long stretch of highway outside of the city, no longer looking in the rearview mirror for the shining lights of the police, no longer zipping and weaving between other cars on the road.

The peace of the open road settles in your chest and you let go of the duffle bag, throwing it over your shoulder to sit in the backseat, in between the bag of jewels and the expensive artwork from the last heist.

You settle into the seat and he lets his fingers spread out, touching you as if grounding himself to you.

“You’re my ride or die, baby,” he breathes after a moment of silence. You stare straight ahead, watching as the dark sunset ahead of you bursts in an explosion of colors.

“Forever, Yoongi.”

Yoongi could spend hours between your thighs. He doesn’t even make any attempts to remove himself from the taste of your slick cunt until you’ve climaxed twice from his tongue. He eats you like he’s parched, only able to sate his thirst by drinking directly from your core.

He holds your legs tight, reminding himself you’re here, you’re with him, you’re never leaving and he’s never letting you go.

Your hands thread through his hair, gripping the silken raven locks as he digs his tongue into your channel yet again, lapping up the sweetness that spills from your orgasm, relishing in the rhythmic chanting of his name. He never wants to hear anything else drip from your lips, wants no other name but his own staining the pretty pout and echoing around the motel room.

You are his everything. His world. His universe.

He finally pulls away, smiling up at you after your third consecutive orgasm wrought by his mouth, and kisses at the skin of your thighs--the same place he allows his hand to rest when he steers you away from the chaos of your burglaries.

“I love you more than anything in this world,” he breathes, pressing his soft kisses up your legs and swirling around your belly.

“More than money?” You ask, out of breath.

“More than money.”

“More than jewels?”

“More than anything any bank in the world combined could have in their stores,” he promises to every inch of your breasts, tongue lapping at the nipple. “More than any king could ever want.”

“Yoongi,” you sigh when he finally slides into you, completing you. You’re nothing without him, nothing without the feeling of him within you.

“Say it again,” he whispers against your ear as he thrusts into you gently, holding you tenderly in his arms.

“Yoongi.”

His head falls against your own, foreheads touching as he bores his eyes into yours. His. His, his, his. You’re his only, and his forever, and he never wants to live another moment, another day, another second, without you.

He claims you, seed spilling deep into your womb at the height of your shared climax. Your body welcomes him, clenches with desire and milks him to the last drop, desperate to keep him within you for as long as you can.

“It’s just you and me forever, baby,” he says after he’s cleaned you up and laid you down.

Suddenly, there’s sirens and the flashing red and blue lights outside the window.

“Come out! We have you surrounded.”

Yoongi helps you throw on clothes, whispering hurriedly as he stashes the guns he needs into his pocket and throws one to you.

He throws a look at you as he knocks the glass out of the back window of the bathroom.

“You ready for another adventure, baby?”

The gun feels heavy in your hands, but solid. Comforting. The gun is your means of staying with Yoongi, never leaving his sight. You’d take down anything that stood in the way, eliminate any threat that posed a risk of taking him away.

He notes your silence and kisses you quick, before hoisting you up to climb out the window and make a run for the hidden Camaro in the alleyway.

He catches up to you, hand slipping into your own and tugging you to run faster, the Camaro coming into your sights like a sanctuary. You can hear the pounding footsteps of the police around the building, the splintering wood as they force themselves into the now-vacant motel room, still wet and hot from where you made love.

Yoongi grins as he slides into the car and fires the engine, pulling you in for a deep and passionate kiss, hands hovering over the steering wheel.

With a quirk of his lips, he places his hand back on it’s spot on your thigh.

“Ride or die, right, baby?”

#bts smut #bts fics #min yoongi smut #yoongi smut #yoongi fics #suga smut #suga fics

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naamahdarling · 3 years

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OKAY BUT NOW IM REALLY CURIOUS: if you don’t mind sharing, *how* can you trace your IBS back to capitalism??? (sincerely, another chronically ill person now suspecting they’re in the same boat) (if you *do* mind: I sincerely apologize! Please feel free to delete this ask?)

This is all TMI for poop.

I have the kind of rosacea that causes such bad acne it forms multi-pimple colonies literally called "monstrosities." It is very painful during a flare. It feels like burning and often makes me bleed. I want to stress, this is not "cosmetic". I have infected cysts and sores on may face constantly. At one point I had 40 or so active lesions on my face, varying from pimple-type whiteheads to weeping sores to subdermal cysts. I was covered in scabs. I developed dermatillomania, which I still have.

At one point I had a cunning weasel of a doctor who managed to treat the rosacea by a combination of topical metronidazole and Xifaxan/rifaximin. Rifaximin is usually used for travelers's diarrhea but there is excellent evidence that it works on rosacea, in studies sending it into remission for at least 9 months. It worked on mine for 2 years.

Somehow he got this massive dose long course of antibiotics prescribed off-label. Then he disappeared because he was forced out of practice for overprescribibng pain meds medicating pain patients adequately.

It flared up again.

I had private insurance. Insurance considers skin a luxury organ and acne as purely cosmetic, and will not cover most treatments for it. It doesn't keep you from working, after all (capitalism!). They do not care.

So instead of literally any other treatment for it, they decided that a 3 month course of 200mg doxycycline 3 times a day would be just fine. Doxy is dirt fucking cheap, is why. I didn't really want to do this, I was concerned it would make me ill, but I was in so much pain. I had to do something. And I HAD to try this before anything else. Insurance algorithms were forcing me to take the cheapest medication despite my concerns over risk.

What risk? It wiped out my gut flora until I was pooping green due to bile salts not being broken down. I never had diarrhea during those 3 months, which was all my doctor had warned me about, but in that last two weeks I was pooping recognizable food, undigested. I feel very stupid for not realizing something was very wrong sooner than I did. I guess I thought my gut would bounce back?

Turns out I developed IBS that I still have 10+ years later despite being competent at managing it and having tried everything available to cure it that isn't quackery. (No advice please.)

Capitalism is behind the reprehensible drug prices and insurance policies, and also my fucking poverty due to atrociously low SSDI payments, which all meant I could not pay the FIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS for the one drug that I KNEW gives me relief.

So now I have IBS and STILL HAVE rosacea. The irony? Rifaximin reliably works on BOTH.* And I can't get it. (No, really, it is impossible, Medicaid will not pay for it. It's still super expensive at the doses required.)

And the 2 cream stuff things that help it were not generic for a long time. One cost $500 and one cost $350. And it really only helps, and doesn't fix it.

One went generic and is now "only" $89. I have it now! I got some because y'all helped me out!!! And I still bled on my pillow last night and my GF has to be careful how she kisses my face or it hurts me. It reduces it by maybe 50% at best. Don't get me wrong, that is SO WELCOME, but it isn't a cure.

So yeah. Capitalism forced me into a situation that gave me a functional bowel disorder that severely limits the food I can eat, and the meds I WAS FORCED TO TAKE didn't even fix my disfiguring skin condition.

And that is how capitalism literally gives me the shits.

* Both are correlated with SIBO, which rifaximin is also used to treat.

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naralanis · 4 years

Text

little bumps in the road (pt. 19)

Previously, on LBitR...

Like her cell before this, the room Lena now occupied has no windows, only the bright fluorescent lights that emit a soft hum just loud enough for Lena to hear—something that would ordinarily drive her crazy with annoyance, but now just gives her something else to focus on.

There are no clocks, either, at least not that she could see, not even on the many monitors attached to her via an array of wires. Though, to be fair, her visibility is somewhat compromised by the limited range of movement the handcuffs afford her.

No one has come in to check in on her so far, not even a nurse doing their rounds or some hapless DEO agent—because she is very much not in a hospital, as much as it looks like she might be. Lena would guess she’s being held at the DEO, but she doesn’t particularly like guessing. She likes knowing. And what she knows is that she’s been here for what feels like forever and she’s starting to get antsy.

Not that Lena has much idea of how much time has passed; she tried counting the minutes in her head, but couldn’t concentrate long enough on the task to keep it up for more than twenty counts to sixty, which in her book, is long enough.

She half-expected Lex to come in at some point, even if just to gloat, but he hasn’t shown so far, and Lena figures he doesn’t need to. He’s already got his pieces in place—he controls both Lena and the Director of the DEO; he can just sit back, kick up his feet, and relax while he waits for the game to start up again.

For Kara to come flying into his trap.

Fucker, Lena thinks bitterly. She feels a little high—probably whatever pain medication she was given.

Her stomach growls, sudden and loud, and Lena realizes she has no idea when she had eaten last. But more than telling she’s hungry, the unpleasant sound tells her she’s been sitting here twiddling her thumbs (figuratively speaking, of course) for a few hours at least.

Tired of being laid up and useless, and entirely not in the mood to wait for Alex or whoever else to come in, Lena tries to shuffle down the bed, as much as the handcuffs will allow, to try to get to the bandages stuck to the side of her head.

There’s some incredibly awkward shuffling down the thin mattress and further into the cheap, staticky sheets, and the angle is far from comfortable, but eventually Lena manages to lean down just enough so her fingertips graze the edge of some gauze, right at her temple. She pinches it between her index and middle fingers—the only ones that actually reach—and slowly begins to tear it away from her skin.

It’s at this moment that Lena becomes exceedingly thankful for the invention of morphine—or whatever else it is they have her on, here—because after some poking around, she’s definitely reopened her wound. Her fingers come away bloody, and the whole spot feels raw and hot to the touch, but fortunately, she feels little more than pressure.

She’s very well aware that, as far as good ideas go, this one probably nears the bottom of the list (or perhaps isn’t in it at all), but her options are limited, after all. And to be quite fair, even if she doesn’t succeed, she’s already in this pseudo-hospital room—it’s quite unlikely her captor will let her just. Die.

The angle is mightily uncomfortable, which makes it less than ideal when it comes to actually digging into a head wound, and so far she’s felt nothing that resembles the minuscule implant in her skin, but Lena is nothing if not tenacious, not to mention stubborn as hell. Kind of like Kara.

“If you would like, I could provide you with the schematics to Lex Luthor’s mind-control implant without the need of aggravating your wounds.”

Lena jumps—as much as one can jump when they’re handcuffed to a bed—at the voice; she’d been so concentrated on her slightly insane task she didn’t hear anyone come in. Her bloodied hand snaps away from the wound on her temple in shock and hits the rail with force, enough to send her now-empty ice-chip cup flying to the other side of the room.

“Brainy!”

Lena cannot quantify the sheer relief she feels when she sees the stoic figure at her door, ramrod straight with his arms crossed at his back. His lips are tugging into a little smile, like he’s so clearly happy to see her, and for some reason that makes her want to cry.

She does cry a little, and it’s so pathetic, because her hands are still handcuffed so she can’t even reach out to wipe at them. But it’s the first time in weeks, maybe months, that someone other than Kara actually looks happy to see Lena, and she finds she’s wholly unprepared to deal with it.

“What are you doing here?”

He steps in, squinting at her and tutting under his breath as he sees her bloodied hand, head, and bandages. “Do you need me to tell you how exactly much you’re increasing your risk of infection by interfering with your bandages?”

Lena lets out a wet, choky laugh. “No, thank you. I’ll be good.”

He nods, lips tugging ever-so-slightly wider. It’s the closest to a beaming grin as Brainy can get, and Lena can’t help but laugh. Maybe she’s hallucinating. But she’s so, so very happy to see me.

“Good,” he says, looking a bit awkward just standing by her bed with perfect posture. Lena wouldn’t have it any other way. “I will call someone shortly to redress your wounds. Trying to remove this type of subdermal implant with a piece of glass only had a 9.7% chance of success, in case you were not aware.”

Lena lets out a little snort. “I figured the odds weren’t great,” she quips. Brainy’s now just close enough she can touch his elbow with her casted hand—the other one is erm, bloody. It’s a little awkward—Brainy, like Lena, was never the extremely touchy type—but he accepts it with a little laugh. “Brainy, Alex—she also has an implant; she doesn’t remember—”

“I am aware of the Director’s implant. I was working to disable it, but it seems you managed to trigger the return of some of her memories.” He raises his brow, and Lena can tell he is mightily impressed. “Well done.”

“Who else has them? Who else has Lex gotten to?”

“Only the Director, as far as we know. Lex hasn’t made many of them, but we are working on disabling the entire system.” He frowns. “I need your help,” he admits as if it both pains and delights him to need Lena’s assistance. “I found the schematics of the implant itself, but the system…”

“Works on the basis of a program I designed,” Lena groans.

Brainy nods solemnly, thankfully not saying anything further on the subject. Instead, he pulls a small tablet from his pocket, and taps at it until it flashes blue. He turns the screen for Lena to see, and her eyes have a bit of a hard time focusing on the diagrams slowly spinning in place.

“The implant cannot be removed without triggering an alarm,” Brainy begins, and Lena is glad to finally have someone who can get straight down to business. “As well as several countermeasures Lex put in place. Had you successfully removed it, it would have. Erm. Liquefied your brain. In essence.”

Lena lets out a low whistle through her teeth. “Talk about overkill. So I guess we can’t remove Alex’s either.”

Brainy shakes his head. “No. The only hope is by disabling the entire system, which unfortunately cannot be accessed remotely,” he sighs. “I’ve tried 346 times and haven’t gotten close.”

“Well, if we can’t access remotely, then the only other option would be to—”

“LENA! ARE YOU BLEEDING??!”

Brainy jumps back a full three feet, bumping into the monitors with a loud clatter, hugging the tablet to his chest like a kid caught stealing from the cookie jar. Lena yelps, startled by a blue-clad figure at the door to her room, mask off but scowl very, very much in place.

“Nia,” Lena breathes, but she doesn’t have the chance to say anything else before the young woman marches to her bed, looking exasperated.

“What the hell were you thinking—girl you made a whole-ass hole in your head, this is not the time to start poking around in there, if this scars I swear to god I am going to kill you before Kara kills me before Lex kills us all are you kidding me right now—”

“Nia,” Lena tries again, and she can’t even be bothered with the way Nia’s fussing over her torn bandages and slowly clotting wound, because she just wants to thank her, she wants to hug her, but most of all, Lena just wants to cry. “Nia—”

“Oh my god, are you crying!?” Nia yelps, her previous fury vanishing within a second as it turns to worry as she eyes Brainy, who looks completely out of his depth at Lena’s sudden sobbing. “Why are you crying??”

Lena wants to raise her arms to hug the young woman, but the stupid handcuffs won’t let her, so she just. Sobs. Like a little baby—it’s a little pathetic, but she can’t help it, because Nia’s here, Nia’s the one who took her to Kara. Their mad run across the country, the resentment that melted into companionship again, the laughs they shared along the way—it was all because of Nia.

Nia seems to understand, on a surface level, because she lets out a sigh, dropping the gauze she’d been unsuccessfully trying to stick back on Lena’s head, and just wraps her arms around her, tight and present.

“Thank you,” Lena sobs wetly against the crook of her neck. “Thank you.”

<< Previous || Next >>

#nara's word vomit #LBitR #supergirl #supergirlcw #supercorp #lena luthor #kara danvers #ficwriting #femslash #listen i rewrote this three times and then said fuck it #this programme is brought to you by Nara NOT being a bastard for one #featuring one Big Brain Boi #and the Incomparable Nia Nal #and baby Lena #lena luthor needs a hug #lena luthor gets a hug

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barbecuebabybackribs · 4 years

Text

Being in a Poly relationship with Emmett and Rosalie would include:

(Gender Neutral Pronouns

I hope you guys enjoy this! It just popped into my head so I decided to write it out for all of y’all. Also this is super long!! Just a heads up, Enjoy and stay safe guys:) )

To say you surprised them would be a big understatement

They’d both be really conflicted- neither of them wanted to admit they wanted to pursue you

Edward would take pity on them

“Emmett, Rosalie, you both want to be with Y/N- the other won’t be upset if you admit it.”

“...”

Emmett is absolutely pumped- having one mate? Amazing, fabulous. But having two? ABSOLUTE HEAVEN

Rosalie is a bit more conflicted- you’re a human, so fragile and vulnerable. Being around her would mean you’re constantly at risk, not to mention the fact that you becoming a vampire at one point or another shakes her to her very core.

Emmett agree’s to not ask you out until Rosalie is comfortable with it, IF, she agrees to befriend you in the meantime

The next time your in the cafeteria- sitting alone picking at the cheap school lunch, when two people sit at the table with you

When you look up you realize Emmett is on your left and Rosalie is on your right- your surrounded by the schools power couple- the schools very attractive power couple

“Um, Hello?” you say nervously due to the fact they never interact with others outside of there family- let alone you.

“Hello, I’m Rosalie, your Y/N, Right?”

“Yeah, and I know you, You’re Rosalie Hale, and That’s Emmett Cullen, your basically the talk of the school.”

“Oh really? So what have they been saying about us?” Emmett would laugh- knowing some of the rumors going around town were a bit wild.

You’d talk for the rest of the lunch period, telling them about yourself and all the rumors about them- some as simple as Rosalie being a bleached blonde, some being that Emmett ran a satanic sex cult and Rosalie flirts with people to lure them in- that one had Emmett and Rosalie nearly rolling on the floor with laughter

For the next week they’d always sit with you at lunch and you started to consider them friends

The next week they showed up after your last class and walked you to your car

The next week at lunch they started telling you about how they were heading up to Seattle during the weekend

“Hey you know what? You should go with us!”

“Oh? I would hate to impose and be a third wheel.”

“Come on, we’d love to have you there.” Emmett would smile and wrap and arm around you.

You’d look to Rosalie to see if she was okay with it, She had a smile on her face so you assumed she was down

“Yeah, it does sound like fun.”

They’d pick you up from your house the next day in their Jeep

Emmett was blaring music which caused you neighbors to give you a dirty look

Emmett insists you see the “Gum Wall” Which was both interesting a gross

Rosalie takes you to the top of the Space Needle

Rosalie almost has a heart attack- if that were possible- when you stand up to fast and get light headed

Emmett forces you to sit back down and tries to keep Rosalie from calling Carlisle

“I’m sorry guys, I just got light-headed since I haven’t eaten yet today.”

They both forgot you had human needs and Rosalie sits with you scolding you for not telling them you were hungry earlier while Emmett finds food for you

Comes back essentially holding enough food to feed 20 people

“UM! That’d a lot!”

“Well I didn’t know what you wanted so I got one of everything.”

You awkwardly eat as much as you can- offering a lot of it to them and being a tad confused when they decline

You end up giving the leftovers to homeless people

You end up having an amazing day, they take you and bid you farewell- saying you had to do it more often

Watching them drive away you realize you’d fallen for them

You low key feel guilty and the next time the sit with you, you can’t get the thought of you being a horrible person and homewrecker out of your head- I mean they’re in love with each other, who are you to think you even stand a chance?

They both realize something’s off with you and ask Edward later that day if he noticed anything in your thoughts- even though Rosalie told him to stay out of your head.

He tells them what you had been conflicted about

They’re conflicted

Emmett’s pumped you officially like them- and both of them, part of him was worried about you only falling for one of them

Rosalie was happy you shared there feelings but the fact you thought negatively of yourself because of them ate her up.

Rosalie tells Emmett it’s time to consider asking you out,

It still takes them a few weeks to officially ask but suddenly your receiving presents from them and being invited to all kinds of outings

You make them string friendship bracelets and they think it’s the cutest thing in the world- they both wear them 24/7

Movie “Outings”

Hiking “Outings”

Port Angela’s “Outings”

Going to lunch wear only you eat

Getting ice cream where only you eat.

Basically any human thing they can do, you’re right there next to them

Emmett takes you to play football and only laughs at how bad you are

You’re jaw drops to the floor when you see Emmett throw the ball out of the field

“How the hell?!?”

“Oops, to much power in that one.”

Rosalie takes you on a self pamper day

Hair- Check . Nails- Check. skin Care- Check. Gossip- Check.

You go home that day having dirt on everyone in the town

One day your surprised to see they aren’t waiting for you after class, you stick around for a few minutes to see if they’re late- but they never show

Eventually you head to your car and see them waiting for you there and they finally officially ask you out

Rosalie starts to say it but hesitates and Emmett says it for her

“Y/N, We wanna go out with you.”

“... Like... to the movies?”

“No, we mean, we want to date you.” Rosalie says, tightening her grip on Emmett’s hand

Your silent for a few seconds and they’re worried you’’re going to say no

Pleasantly surprised when you break out in a big smile and say “Yes!”

“Awesome.” Emmett says pulling you into long bear hug- which he squeezes a little to tight but you just savor the moment

Rosalie is standing next to the both of you, absolutely shocked and excited, gets a big smile on her face when she see’s you and Emmett’s smile and hears how fast your heart is beating

You all enjoy your evening together- your smiles never leaving your faces

They drive you home and Rosalie gives you a hug goodbye- which turns into a group hug when Emmett joins

They never tell you but they heard you call your friend practically squealing in excitement as you told them you’d just got back on a date with “Rosalie AND EMMETT”

They both went home down right giddy- they got cornered by Alice, with Jasper and Edward both in the corner snickering

After you officially start dating Emmett and Rosalie don’t hold back

Emmett has picked you up and carried you around school multiple times

Rosalie had to be physically restrained when someone had the audacity to grope your ass

She still gave them a piece of her mind tho- and it’s rumored they never laid a hand on another person again

They help you study and do your homework- they do have lot’s of experience after all

When your parents aren’t home you all stay up late in the living room watching movies- Rosalie finds your mom baby photo album of you and gushes over tiny you

You end up falling asleep on Emmett’s shoulder- Rosalie takes a photo of you two

Dates with each other but also dates where its just you and Rosalie, you and Emmett, or just the two of them

Emmett kisses you first- takes you surprise and kisses you after he dropped you off at home, then drove away with the biggest cheeky grin in the world

Rosalie is low-key jealous they kissed you first

Next time you see Rosalie? She dips you over and gives you a big ole kiss

Smugly smiles when she see’s you have the biggest blush on your face known to man

After the initial kiss it’s just part of the daily norm

A kiss when you first see each-other, when you say goodbye, a random smooch or two threw out the day

You get all kinds of envious glares from others

Also people who just think you’re sickingly cute

Rosalie decides it’s time for you to know about vampires when you start asking why they never eat on your guy’s dates and there eye’s always change colors

Take you on a long hike so there’s no one around to hear, also encase you feel the need to scream in confusion/fear

You think they’re joking at first

That is until Emmett picks up a boulder and throws it like it’s a baseball across the field

You sit down on a log to process for a second

“Y/N... Are you okay?”

“I made out with a vampire... I made out with two vampires... I’m DATING TWO VAMPIRES!”

You have a million questions and they answer them all

You ask Emmett to pick you up with one hand- he does and laughs at how surprised you are

“You’re like the hulk!”

You dramatically lean against a tree and tell Rosalie she’ll need to carry you back since your just soo tired- you mean it mainly as a joke

To your surprise she carries you bridal style all the way home- laughing at how giddy you are over such a simple thing

They don’t have fully have sex with you while your human but they are willing to do a lot of other things

They forgot how much humans blush at simple things and it makes no-beating hearts ache

Introduction to the family is a bit awkward but pleasant

Esme absolutely adores you and loves cooking you complex dishes

Carlisle is so happy to see you making his “Kids” happy and also is happy that you’re such a lovely person in general

Edward and Alice basically already know everything about you

Alice gets a little to excited and talks about how good of friends you’ll be and how she’s already planning your new wardrobe

Rosalie pry’s her away from you

Edward doesn’t say much to you but is nice, a little moody but nice

Bella makes sure you feel welcome and tells her if your’re ever struggling to come to her because she’s been in the same situation and knows what it’s like

After meeting them it basically becomes your second home

They get a bed put in there room so you can spend the night

They love cuddling with you while you sleep, adoring how you’ll softly mumble random words

Cute little picnic dates

You watch Rosalie work on cars and attempt to help her

She ends up teaching you the basics

Sometimes you read to her while she works on cars, or you simply keep her company

Emmett and you wrestle a lot- although he obviously always wins besides the few times he lets you win

You’ve randomly leaped onto his back to many time to count- he loves it

You all go on vacation together during the summer

You go to some private beach and gush over how there skin sparkles so beautifully

Rosalie and Emmett nearly die on the spot when they see you get hit by a car

Rosalie holds you while Emmett calls 911

They realize the cops won’t get there in time- but they don’t want to “doom” you to the life of a vampire

“It’s okay guys, you don’t have to do it.” You would smile weakly at them

“Don’t say that, you’ll be fine.”

It was a lie and you all knew it

When your heart beats starts to slow down and you’re eyes flicker closed they silently agree they have to do it

Emmett is the one who bites you- a lump forming in his throat as you groan in pain as the venom starts to take affect

Rosalie cradles you softly as you start your transition- they end up moving you when they hear the ambulance coming close

They calls the rest of the cullens and let them know- Alice had already seen it but she was to late to call and warn them

They all come to you but all silently agree to only let Rosalie and Emmett in the room your in until you’re ready- most newborns want to be alone

When you wake up and your blood red eyes flicker around the room, you jump up so fast you break the bed frame

All previously dull colors are now vibrant and almost headache inducing, you can hear everything in a room that was previously silent, and the smells- the smells were the worst part, everything was so overwhelming

Not to mention the almost unbearable burning in the back of your throat

“Y/N, are you alright?”

You look over to see a very stressed looking Emmett and Rosalie

“Uhm” You rasp out before clearing your throat, “I.. think so?”

Rosalie offers you a cup of blood Edward had caught for you

You hesitantly take it and ask “What... What does it take like.”

“Take a sip and find out!” Emmett slaps your back and then rubs it supportingly

You take a small sip, surprised at how much it lessens the burning in your throat “It’s.. okay.” You say not wanting to admit it was really good to you- although you do finish the glass

Alice proceeds to carry a whole mirror into the room so you can see yourself- you stare awkwardly at your reflection that now seems foreign

Vampire lessons by everyone

Jasper and Emmett teach you to fight

Carlisle teaches you restraints

Edward and Bella teach you the whole cover story

Rosalie and Alice teach you “How to act human 101″

Emmett and Rosalie both find you one day obviously upset when you realize you’ll have to leave behind your friends and family

They help you learn to cope and let you know it’s completely normal to feel what you feel

Emmett cheers you up by throwing you fifty feet in the air- which was a unique method that worked wonders

Emmett sneak attacks you and you flinch so hard you put a hole in the wall

You get him back by tackling him to the ground- which only works for a second before he’s rolled on top of you and hungrily looking at you lips

You end up making out in the middle of the woods

When the rest of the cullens go back home you decide to stay at the beach for another week

During that week you all agree to take the next step- multiple times

It’s a good thing jasper is out of there because you are full of lust for literal days

You all go home and Edward immediately cringes at Emmett’s thoughts

You home to reveal all your previous rooms stuff had been moved to Rosalie and Emmett’s room- Well now Rosalie, Emmett’s, and Your room

You all are cuddle bugs

Resting your head on Rosalie’s chest is your favorite thing

Well, Clinging to Emmett’s back while he makes his way threw daily life is also up there

You all go hunting together and are one powerful gang

In Rosalie’s eyes your all damned but at least you’re damned together

You all spend the rest of your very long lives protecting and loving each other- even threw the roughest of times nothing could break you apart

You all love each other and that’s enough

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prettyyoungandbored · 4 years

Text

Becoming Mrs. Wayne [The Dark Knight] Seven

Pairing: Christian Bale!Bruce Wayne x OC

Summary: Demetria Gallagher knew her cozy life would change the second she became engaged to Bruce Wayne. But what she doesn’t know is she’s getting more than what she agreed to. (I am trash at summaries.)

Warning: This chapter contains description of a heavy panic attack. Please read at your own risk.

Taglist: dragonballluver, disgraceful-marvel-trash, barikawho (Let me know if you want to be tagged in this!)

Author’s Note: A chunk of dialogue in this chapter comes from the movie and has been expanded on to fit the storyline.

“And when exactly is your mother planning to visit us?” Monsignor O’Malley inquired as he followed Demetria.

Demetria snapped a photo of the hallway before looking over her shoulder. “Most likely next month. Once I send her the photos , she’ll work on drafts and whenever she comes, we can all sit down and discuss how to go about the process.” She snapped her fingers. “You know what, I have her business card with me because she sometimes does work in Gotham City.”

She pulled out her wallet from her purse and handed Monsignor O’Malley the thing off white card. “She’ll be happy to answer any of your questions and or concerns.”

He smiled as he took the card. “This is awfully generous of you, Ms. Gallagher. We can’t tell you how grateful we are.”

“It’s the least I can do,” she waved her hand. “Both Bruce and I want to make sure you, the sisters, and the boys are taken care of with whatever you need.” She paused. “How are the boys doing?”

“They’re wonderful.”

“Oh good! I was actually wondering if I could go say ‘hi’ or-.”

“Unfortunately the boys are on a field trip with the sisters.”

Demetria nodded understandingly, trying to hide her disappointment. “Absolutely.” Then an idea hit her. “Do the nuns teach the boys?”

“Some do. We’ve been thinking about incorporating more schooling into the boys schedules, but we’re a little short staffed and not all the nuns feel comfortable teaching certain subjects.”

“I’d love to step in,” Demetria offered.

Monsignor O’Malley raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What is it you would teach?”

“I’m excellent at English. All levels. I was a TA my senior year of high school. I even minored in it in college.”

Monsignor O’Malley nodded his head, impressed. “Well, if it doesn’t interfere with your schedule-.”

“I don’t have one,” she laughed.

He chuckled. “Then I suppose it’s something we can try out. Are you free next week?”

Her eyes lit up. “Absolutely!’ I would love that!”

Before she could say more, the sound of her phone ringing cut her off. She gave Monsignor O’Malley an apologetic smile as she dug into her bag. “Excuse me one second.”

She glanced down to see it was a reminder that she had to start getting ready for the fundraiser.

“Please excuse me, but I’ve got to head out,” Demetria said. “Remember, if you have any questions, you have my number as well as my mom’s.”

“Of course. I also look forward to discussing you working here.”

“I do as well.”

The two shook hands and Demetria headed out of the orphanage.

She had taken Bruce’s Cadillac XLR, seeing as it was the only semi-low-key-looking car he owned and the only one she didn’t get anxious driving. She wished he had owned something a little less glamorous for trips like this, hating how it made her look, but it was what it was.

As she she opened the driver’s side door, she noticed a photographer snapping her from the distance. The two stared at each for a moment, acknowledging just what was going on. She exhaled softly, mentally reminding herself to keep it together.

Since her essay was published, the media outlets had backed off a bit. The Gotham Times were still insistent of doing a piece on her and published one on her, but it turned out to be a dud as no one close to her would speak to them with the exception of her former News Director and the Head Booker, her other boss. It also helped that a local mob boss was mysteriously killed and the news decided to fixate on that.

She gave him a quick, tired smile before she slid inside and closed the door, driving off.

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

Back at the Wayne Penthouse, Bruce adjusted the cuffs of his pristine white dress shirt as he made his way down the stairs.

Alfred wrapped up his conversation with the party planners and turned his attention to Bruce.

“I think your fundraiser will be a great success,” Alfred remarked.

“Why do you think I want to hold a party for Harvey Dent?” Bruce questioned, almost annoyed at the thought of it.

“I assumed it was your usual reason for socializing beyond myself and the scum of Gotham’s underbelly to try to impress Miss Gallagher.”

“Very droll, very wrong,” Bruce responded, glancing up for a brief moment.

Alfred looked over his shoulder for a moment, noticing the party planners were not in the room. “Have you considered telling Miss Gallagher what it is you’re doing at night?” Alfred inquired in a voice low enough for Bruce to hear him.

Bruce glanced up. It wasn’t the first time this conversation came up between the two. “Soon.”

“Before or after you say ‘I do’?”

“When the time is right.”

“Perhaps she should truly know what she’s getting herself into.”

Bruce stopped in his tracks. “What are you implying, Alfred?”

“Miss Gallagher has given you every ounce of herself.”

“Who says I-.”

Bruce’s attention was caught by the low sound of the television. He looked over to find GCN airing what appeared to be a figure of Batman, hanging with a rope around it’s neck on a building. The lower third read “BATMAN DEAD?”

Demetria walked down the stairs and into the living room, tightening the belt on her cozy white bathrobe when she saw Bruce and Alfred staring at the tv. Curious, her eyes darted to the tv when she saw the lower third.

Her blood ran cold with disbelief and shock, heart dropping into her stomach.

The camera cut back to GCN anchor, Mike Engel.

“Be aware, the image is disturbing,” he warned.

The camera then cut to a man dressed in a cheap Batman getup, his plump cheeks spilling out of the cowl. He was sat on the floor of what looked like the back kitchen area of a butcher shop with a silver cart and a large pieces of animal meat hanging behind the victim. He had his hands tied behind them, his face lowered to the game.

“Tell them your name,” the camera man said in a menacing, sing-song voice.

“Brian Douglas,” the fake Batman answered weakly.

“Are you the real Batman?” There was a childish, teasing tone in the voice behind the camera to a point where it was menacing. It was almost as if whoever it was took immense pleasure in this man’s torture.

“No.” Brian was barely hanging on.

“No?” the voice repeated back, almost in a whine to mimic Brian’s pain.

“No.”

“No?” The voice giggled. An arm reached over and pulled the cowl off Brian. “Then why do you dress up like him?” The camera pulled back, the arm dangling the cowl in front of Brian. The voice laughed a stomach curdling “Woo-hoo-hoo-hoo!”

“Because he’s a symbol...that we don't have to be afraid of scum like you,” Brian retorted with a slight bit of courage in his weak tone.

“Yeah. You do, Brian.” The hand grabbed the side of Brian’s face, the camera coming in close. “You really do.”

The hand pulled the top of Brian’s head as the man whimpered. The hand turned back and stroked Brian’s cheek. “Oh, shh shh shh.”

Demetria shook her head, her stomach growing weak. Bruce’s eyes fixated on the TV, his expression stone cold with eyes colored in disbelief.

“So,” the voice continued on, “you think the Batman's helped Gotham? Hmm?”

Brian didn’t respond.

“LOOK AT ME!”

The roaring voice caused Demetria to jump back, her hand slapping on her mouth.

The camera swung around to reveal the person behind the voice, the sight causing Demetria to yelp, “Jesus Christ!”

The red smeared smile was complimented by his chalk-white foundation and accentuated the long scars on the sides of his face. Two lazily painted black eyeshadow covered his eyes and he revealed his dark yellow teeth.

“You see, this is how crazy Batman's made Gotham. You want order in Gotham, Batman must take off his mask, and turn himself in.”

It was something behind the clown that Demetria recognized. A memory popped up in her mind, her jaw dropping at the realization.

“Oh, and everyday he doesn’t, people will die. Starting tonight. I’m a man of my word.”

As the camera switched around, the man let out a menacing cackle as Brian screamed in the background. Demetria, overcome with her realization and the man’s grim promise, hurried up the stairs, Bruce and Alfred watching her. Bruce turned off the television and glanced at Alfred who shot him a look. He gave the old man a nod, indicating the message was received.

In their bedroom, Demetria grabbed a notebook from her nightstand as well as a pen. She began writing hurriedly, her cursive handwriting slightly smudged from the pen. Upon finishing, she ripped the page from her notebook and folded it. She reached back into the drawer, grabbing an empty envelope and shoving the folded paper in there. She licked the envelope, sealing tightly with her fingers and placed it back into the drawer.

Just as she went to close the drawer, she heard the door unlock and grabbed her anti-anxiety meds.

Bruce entered the room.

“Everything ok?” he asked, gentle concern laced in his tone.

She waved her hand. “Yeah, yeah. Just that video was, uh, pretty overwhelming to watch. I’ll be fine in a few minutes.”

He eyed the pilll bottle in her hand. “You know you should probably put that in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom.”

She chuckled. “You’re right. I’m just used to putting them in nightstand drawer. But considering we’re having a bunch of random people over, I guess you’re right.” She paused, a smirk playing on her lips. “Should I leave some viagra in a little bowl for our older guests trying to impress their much younger dates?”

He sat beside her on the bed, smirking at her. “I don’t have any because I don’t need it.”

She hummed, patting his leg. “I wouldn’t say that.”

He pulled her close, his breath hitting her lips. “Not funny.”

“Oh, but it is. It really is.”

She gave him a chaste kiss, nuzzling her nose against his. “You think maybe we should cancel this party? I mean, I don’t think it’s safe.”

“We’re going to be fine,” Bruce reassured.

She sighed, realizing there was no point in changing his mind. “Then I guess I better continue getting ready.”

He chuckled. “Well, don’t get too excited, sweetheart.”

“It’s just...” she stepped back, “I don’t know.” Her fingers toyed the robed belt. “I figured you’d cancel the party and we could spend the night in here...” She continued to move back toward the bathroom area, throwing off the robe to reveal her naked body to him. “And I’d let you do whatever you want to me. But since you won’t cancel it...” She shrugged. “Oh well.”

Bruce could feel his pants grow a little tight and he was ready to have her pay the price. His hungry eyes stayed on her, like a lion ready to pounce on it’s prey. “You get back here. Right. Now.”

She shook her head. “I have to get ready.” She pointed to the tent in his pants. “I suggest you take care of that situation before you leave this room.”

She grabbed the robe from the floor and closed the door behind her, locking it so Bruce wouldn’t try anything.

She exhaled and ran a hand through her damp hair. She wasn’t sure how long this party would last, but she had to make sure Batman got her letter.

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

Bruce waited outside near the helicopter landing pad, his hands in his pockets. He watched as the navy blue sky took over the sunset, but once he turned his head, his breath was taken away by an even more beautiful sight.

Demetria walked out on to the helicopter landing pad, her black hair in an updo with long, curled strands of hair framing her face. Her navy blue gown was strapless with a subtle reverse sweetheart neckline, and hugged her small curves just right before flowing out on to the floor. Her makeup stayed on the subtle side with her eyeliner and mascara accentuating her warm, emerald green eyes and her Goldilocks lips were the perfect shade of pink.

“Is it too much?” she asked, stopping in her tracks. She put a hand on her stomach, feeling the knot inside tightening. Her face fell into a panic. “Oh shit, it is, isn’t it?”

He shook his head, his thumb grazing her cheek as he smiled at her adoringly. “You look incredible, sweetheart.”

Color filled her cheeks as her pink lips curved into a bashful smile. “You don’t look so bad yourself, Wayne.”

His lips gently crashed on to hers as he cradled the side of her face. For a moment, as they relished in their kiss, the world was still and time froze. Neither of them could remember the last time they shared such a moment, but they truly savored it while they still could.

Bruce pulled back, resting his forehead against hers, his lips hovering over hers. “For the record, you still owe me from before.”

She hummed against his lips. “I’ll take it into consideration.”

He smirked at her. “You’re lucky I like you. C’mon, let’s go.”

He took her hand in his, leading her onto the helicopter. The pilot helped her up first, Bruce following right after. As the two sat in the back, Demetria turned to him. “What’s the point of doing this again?”

He took her hand once again. “Grand entrances are fun. Plus, wait til’ you see the view from above.”

He felt her latch on to his arm as the sound of the choppers roared in. Soon enough, the helicopter began rising, the weight of the ground lifting. As it took off into Gotham City, Demetria watched the twinkling city below her.

As childish as it seemed, Demetria felt like Jasmine did on that magic carpet with Aladdin. Seeing Gotham from a bird’s eye view, the city looked beautiful and peaceful.

Bruce relished in watching his fiancé’s amazement, hoping he could make her feel this way for the rest of their lives.

She looked over at him. “You were right. This is incredible.”

She scooted closer to him, leaning back on his shoulder as she continued to look out the window. Bruce pressed a kiss to her temple, reaching his hand over to hers on her lap, clasping them.

Both stayed in the moment, wishing they could stay like this forever.

But once the helicopter scoured every inch part of Gotham, it was time to descend back onto the landing pad.

Bruce helped Demetria off the helicopter. Her eyes shifted to the once empty ballroom which was now filled with a large crowd inside staring at her. Her chest grew heavy, palms sweating.

“They’re staring at us,” she told Bruce.

He took her hand. “They see how you beautiful you look”. He gave it squeeze. “Remember, I’ve got you.”

She nodded and exhaled softly as the two made their way inside.

She followed him as the door opened to the gala room. All eyes stayed on them. She flashed a closed mouth smile at partygoers until her eyes met Harvey’s. It wasn’t until his familiar, warm smile that hers became more genuine and honest.

“Sorry we’re late,” Bruce announced. “Glad you started without us!” He let go of Demetria’s hand, clapping his together. “Where's Rachel?!”

Demetria eye’s turned to Rachel, who cringed slightly.

Bruce motioned to her. “Rachel Dawes- my oldest friend. When she told me she was dating Harvey Dent, I had one thing to say... ‘the guy from those god-awful campaign commercials? 'I Believe in Harvey Dent?' Nice slogan, Harvey.”

As the crowd chuckled, Demetria’s smile faltered even more. She was thrown off by the Bruce that was speaking. It was like the second his hand left hers, he’d become another man. He’d become like everyone else in the crowd - pompous and slightly arrogance.

He’s putting on a show for them, she thought to herself. This is not the real him.

“Certainly caught Rachel's attention,” Bruce went on. “But then I started paying attention to Harvey, and all he's been doing as our new D.A., and you know what? I believe in Harvey Dent. On his watch, Gotham can feel a little safer. A little more optimistic. But what he’s done for Gotham isn’t just the only good thing Harvey Dent has done.”

He then shifted his tone and his gaze, now looking at Demetria who’s heart dropped to her stomach.

“Harvey convinced his good friend from college, Demetria Gallagher, to move to Gotham,” Bruce continued, smiling at her. “It’s because of Harvey and Rachel that I was introduced to the love of my life.”

The crowd let out a collective “aw” as Demetria gave him a small smile.

“I spent years thinking I’d never find the ‘one’.” He turned back to the crowd. “I figured if I’m never gonna find her, why not have some fun? And I did.”

The crowd laughed. Demetria rolled her eyes, shaking her head.

“Then I ran into Rachel having a lunch with this beautiful woman and I couldn’t help myself. I asked her three times to have dinner with me.” Bruce shifted his attention to Demetria, taking her hand in his. “While I will never know who or what convinced you to say ‘yes’, all I know is that from the moment I left that dinner, I knew this witty, kind, beautiful woman was who I was going to spend the rest of my life with. Demetria, to say you are my heart and my soul is simply not enough. There will never be enough words or adjectives or uses of symbolism to describe how much you mean to me and how happy you make me. I love you more than anything.”

The crowd, once again, “awed” as he pecked Demetria’s cheek. He then grabbed two glasses of champagne off the server’s tray, handing one to Demetria. He then turned back to the crowd, raising his glass. “To-.”

“I just want to say something really quickly,” Demetria spoke up, putting a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “If that’s, ok?”

Bruce smiled, her sudden burst of confidence bringing him pride. “By all means.”

She turned to the crowd. “You all know Harvey as your DA, but I know him as my confidant, my greatest friend, and above all, my family. He’s also my get out of jail free card, but that’s neither here nor there.”

Everyone laughed as Harvey shook his head. Demetria turned to her best friend, her smile fading a bit.

“Harvey, you’re selflessness and dedication to making Gotham City a safer one for its citizens is not just admirable, but also inspirational. You fight for the voiceless, the scared, and for those who want to make their home a better place. You’re one of the reasons Gotham has a brighter future.”

“So get out your checkbooks and let's make sure that he stays right where all of Gotham wants him,” Bruce toasted. “All except Gotham's criminals, of course. To the face of Gotham's bright future- Harvey Dent.”

Everyone toasted and took a sip of their champagne.

As the crowd went back to their party, Bruce turned to Demetria.

“I’m going to go outside for a bit,” he told her, pecking her cheek. “Make yourself comfortable.”

She opened her mouth to protest but it was too late - he’d wandered off. She sighed, wondering how he could he just leave her to fend for herself at their first gala together. She took a sip of her champagne, giving up and giving in to the situation at hand.

“You’re a very lucky woman,” an elderly woman marveled. “And quite adorable. I bet Martha would’ve loved you.”

“Thank you, that’s so kind,” Demetria remarked. “Were you a friend of hers?”

“We were both on the chair for many charities. Such a wonderful woman. If you’re interested, I would love to bring you aboard some of them and get you acquainted.”

“I would love that! I’m actually working with the boy’s home and helping them with renovations and whatnot.”

“How wonderful!”

“I’ve also expressed interest in helping them with schooling and whatnot.”

The gleam in the woman’s eyes softened. “Oh...really, now?”

“Yeah, I would love to do some teaching.”

“She’s going to do a fantastic job,” Harvey remarked, chiming in. He threw his hand around Demetria’s shoulders. “Those kids are going to be well looked after thanks to her.”

“I don’t doubt that,” the woman agreed before walking off.

Demetria turned to Harvey. “I think she realized I wasn’t one of them.”

“Who cares?” he shrugged. “But forgetting that, you’re seriously going to become a teacher?”

“I brought it up to Monsignor O’Malley about the possibility of teaching English. Besides, it would give me something to do that I actually like. You know, talking to them about novels and what it means to express yourself in your writing.”

“That’s fantastic!” Harvey remarked. “You would be perfect for that.”

“I hope so. How are you handling this...whatever it is?”

He sighed. “I’m...just here. How about you?”

“I wanna go into my bedroom and go under the covers and wait til’ everyone leaves.”

“Well for what it’s worth, you look beautiful tonight.”

“I’m working with what I’ve got.”

“Bruce is very lucky.”

“Yeah, he should be. But he decided to give up on the party.”

Harvey furrowed his eyebrows as Demetria motioned her head to the outside. He then turned his head, the two watching Bruce and Rachel engage in what appeared to be an intense conversation.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Demetria wondered aloud.

He quickly glanced over and took a look sip of his champagne. “Probably nothing.”

Her lips curved into a smirk as she eyed Harvey. “Don’t be jealous.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re getting defensive.”

“And you’re annoying me.”

“After that heartfelt speech I gave, that’s the thanks I get?”

“It was alright.”

She punched him in the shoulder, causing him to cringe. “Asshole. I gave a beautiful speech.”

He rubbed his shoulder. “Well, hopefully it will be just a nice ad one you’ll give at my wedding.”

Her eyes widened. “Shut the fuck up. You proposed to Rachel?”

“Not yet. I’m planning to.”

Her mouth hung open as she leaned in close. “Holy shit, dude! When?!”

“Well first there are some things I gotta-.”

“So you two are friends, yes?” another female guest inquired, cutting him off. Her arm was linked with a man who looked at least 20 years older than she did.

Harvey and Demetria turned to her. “We most certainly are,” Demetria agreed, pinching his cheek.

“So how long ago did you two date?” one man remarked, chuckling.

Harvey and Demetria’s eyes went wide.

“We never have,” Harvey answered.

The man elbowed Harvey, laughing. “Aw, c’mon son. It’s alright.”

“He’s basically my brother,” Demetria said.

The man shook his head as he and his concerned date turned away. Demetria and Harvey turned to each other.

“Oh my god these people suck,” she giggled to Harvey. “At least they’ll fund you.”

“Yeah, I could give a shit,” he retorted.

“Mind if I steal him for a bit?” Rachel asked, chiming in.

“By all means,” Demetria motioned.

Harvey and Rachel went off when Demetria noticed Bruce still standing outside. She made her way out.

“Doing ok there?”

Bruce turned to her, smiling. “So far, so good.”

“I love you but you’re not the best liar,” she chuckled, her fingers gently combing his hair. “Babe, if you want to leave, say the word and we’ll sneak out. We can go anywhere.”

“Tempting,” he remarked, smirking. “Where do you propose we go?”

She cocked her head back, shoulders shrugging. “Anywhere. We could literally get in a car and go anywhere we want.” She paused. “Anywhere you want.”

Bruce’s body turned to face her, giving her his full undivided attention. She set her glass down on the railing.

“While I think it’s sweet that you threw this for Harvey, I don’t want to be alone in a room with people I don’t know let alone give a shit about. I would rather be with you in the middle of nowhere where we don’t have to pretend we’re people that we’re not.”

His smile faltered, his eyes going to the ground. Demeteria shoulders tightened, fear creeping into her now uneasy stomach.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

“There’s something I have to tell you.”

She tried to swallow the lump in her throat. “What did I do?”

He shook his head. “No, you did nothing wrong. It’s...” He sighed. “I never want to keep anything from you.”

“What have you been keeping from me?” she questioned, her voice low

He scanned the area as well as the inside of the ballroom. Realizing he wasn’t the safest, let alone most secure place, he leaned closer toward her. “I’ll go in the bedroom and grab a couple things. Go tell Alfred we’re heading out. We’ll meet at the elevator, alright?”

“Bruce-.”

He kissed her cheek and made his way inside. Bruce pushed through the crowd, fielding attempts of conversation from partygoers. She threw her hands up in defeat as an annoyed exhale left her mouth.

“At least we’re leaving,” she muttered under her breath.

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

In their bedroom, Bruce grabbed a set of keys for one of the cars from his safe in their closet. Realizing it was probably best to bring her anxiety med, he went into the medicine cabinet only to find it wasn’t there.

He then remembered her saying she always kept it in the drawer in her nightside table.

Figuring she put it back, he went over to it and opened the drawer and there it was. When he pulled it out, he noticed an envelope underneath with ‘For Batman’ written on it.

He quickly glanced back at the door to make sure the door was closed. He then set down the bag and opened the envelope to find a handwritten letter.

My Night Friend ,

There’s something you need to know about that viral video of the copycat.

I recognize the kitchen in the video. It’s the Fatted Calf on East 28th. A guy I briefly saw in college worked there and I hung out with him in the kitchen while he was closing up the shop.

What people don’t know is that there’s a secret room. The guy told me the owner had it made to be used as a bomb shelter back in the day. It’s located right beside the freezer. If you can get into the boss’ office, there’s a special key inside a safe that can open the door. The Joker may be taking shelter in there.

Take what you will with this information. I hope it serves you well.

Sincerely,

Your Rooftop Friend

Bruce’s couldn’t believe what he was reading. His fiancé, the love of his life, was helping the Batman. The severity of the situation as well as time the huge piece of information made him realize he needed to get both of them out of the penthouse and into the Batcave. He could explain everything to her there.

Shoving the letter into the bag, he zipped it up and made his way to the door when something on the security camera screen made him stop.

It was The Joker followed by some henchmen.

He threw the bag in the closet hurriedly, closing the door, and made his way to the party. Seeing Harvey Dent close by talking to Rachel, he figured he’d had enough time to get Harvey to safety and then grab Demetria.

He came up behind Harvey, putting Harvey in a headlock as Rachel’s eyes widened in fear.

“What the hell are you doing?!” she exclaimed.

“They’re coming for him,” Bruce said, using his Batman voice. “Go grab her and get yourselves to safety.”

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

Demetria spotted Alfred near the wall area. She made her way over, catching the old man’s attention.

“There you Miss Gallagher,” he greeted. “Are you having fun?”

“I feel like a zoo animal. I’ve had more people stare at me than actually talk to me. Anyway, Bruce and I are heading out.”

Alfred chuckled. “You and Master Wayne are a truly perfect fit.”

She eyed the room before leaning closer toward Alfred. “Alfred, he said he had something he’d been meaning to tell me. Any idea what it could be?”

Just then, the sound of a single gunshot silence the room. Everyone turned, including Demetria and Alfred, to see The Joker, the man from the video, enter the ballroom with his posse of men behind him wearing clown masks.

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen,” he greeted in a sing-song voice.

His posse pointed guns at the crowd, a silent order to step back. The crowd formed a circle around The Joker.

Alfred, who was a few rows behind the crowd, stood in front of Demetria.

“Stay behind me,” he whispered to her.

She watched from behind his shoulder.

The sound of tray hitting the ground, broke the silence. The Joker looked back for a moment before turning back to the crowd.

“We are...tonight’s entertainment.” He grabbed a piece of shrimp from a table, stuffing it into his mouth. He looked around. “Only one question - where is Harvey Dent?”

He eyed around, pointing the gun at a group of women before ripping one of their glasses of champagne from their hands and taking a swig of it. He set back on the table and began questioning those he passed, occasionally grabbing at them.

“You know where Harvey is? Do you know who he is?”

He squeezed one guy’s cheek. “Do you know where Harvey is? I need to talk to him about something. Something little.”

He went up to an old white man. “You know I’ll settle for his loved ones.”

Meanwhile, Demetria felt someone grab her hand. She turned to find Rachel.

“We need to get you out of here,” Rachel whispered.

Demetria went to follow Rachel when she felt someone grab her hand.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going, sweetcheeks?” one of the masked men retorted.

He grabbed Demetria, despite her attempts to break free. Her heart rate quickened, stomach growing weak as the man pushed her in front of the crowd.

“Hey boss!” He called out. “It’s her!”

The Joker turned to her, his fixation on her making her blood run cold. She stood frozen and helpless. He got into her face. “So this is the future Mrs. Wayne. You’re also Harvey Dent’s best friend.”

He grabbed Demetria’s face, cradling it forcefully.

“Harvey is your best friend, isn’t he? Your buddy ol pal?” He let out a vicious cackle. “Possibly an old lover? An unrequited love? Either way, you’re somewhat of an asset to him.”

She moved her eyes, looking around as the crowd watched her in fear.

“C'mere, look at me.”

She whimpered, closing her eyes.

He tightened his grip on her hair “LOOK AT ME!”

She yelped, opening her eyes as tears filled to the brim.

“Please,” she begged, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Oh shh, shh, shh,” he hushed her teasingly. “Well you look upset.” He asked, pointing to scars on his mouth with his knife. “Is it these? Is it the scars? You wanna know how I got ‘em?”

She didn’t have time to answer, at least he didn’t bother to give her a chance to. She went to move her head when he grabbed her again. “Hey, look at me.”

She stopped moving, her eyes on him. “So, I had a wife, who was beautiful...like you, who tells me I worry too much, who tells me I oughta smile more, who gambles and gets in deep with the sharks.”

She squirmed when The Joker pulled her back. “One day they carve her face. And we got no money for surgeries. She can't take it. I just want to see her smile again. Hmm? I just wanted to let her know that I don't care about the scars. So, I stick a razor in my mouth and do this to myself. ”

She squeaked, frightened as he put the knife to his scars.

“And you know what? She can't stand the sight of me! She leaves! Now I see the funny side. Now, I'm always smiling!”

He pulled her back, took the knife, and slashed her forearm, the sharp stinging, sensation causing her to let out a blood curdling scream. She collapsed onto the ground, blood spilling down her arm and onto the marble floor.

Demetria couldn’t move, her body frozen, mind unable to process what had just happened. She opened her mouth to speak, her chest stinging in pain and her head growing lightheaded as the Joker stepped on her bleeding arm.

“Please help me,” she begged in between her hyperventilating. “Please...I’m...I can’t...help!”

“Why doesn’t Harvey Dent come save his best friend?!” The Joker called out.

“Let her go!”

Rachel made her way. The Joker stomped on Demetria’s arm one last time.

Alfred rushed to her side. “Deep breaths, Miss,” he whispered. “Deep breaths.”

“Alfred...I’m gonna....don’t let me...”

“You’re going to be alright.”

“Step back!” one of the masked henchman ordered, pointing a gun at Alfred.

Alfred held up his hands stepping back from Demetria. The henchman walked away as Demetria continued to hyperventilate.

She was going to die in front of everyone. Her vision became blurry, her breath uncontrollable. She watched in what she thought would be her final moments Batman attack The Joker.

In and out of blackness, she heard glass shatter followed by footsteps.

Tears strolled down her face as she struggled to breathe, trying to hold on to whatever breath she had left, her body shivering. Alfred rushed to her once again.

“Don’t just stand there!” he cried out. “Someone call a bloody ambulance!”

He gave Demetria his hand, which she held onto tightly.

“Stay with me,” he told her. “Stay with me.”

But she wasn’t sure how long she could last. Between the chest pains and the pains from her wound and the light-headedness, she was barely holding on.

How badly she wanted to see Bruce....and how could he leave her like this?

__________________________________________________________________

Dress:

Hair/Makeup:

#bruce wayne x oc #bruce wayne imagine #batman #batman imagine #batman fanfic #the dark knight #the dark knight fanfiction #the joker #christian bale #christian bale x reader #bruce wayne fanfiction #bale!batman

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marzipanandminutiae · 4 years

Note

I don't go here but can you explain the post about art theft and stuff in the doll community? Niche drama fascinates me

Hoo boy. Gather ye round, friends, and let Marzi tell you a very long tale. A tale of counterfeiting and people being very selective with their definitions of “art theft.”

So BJDs. Ball-Jointed Dolls(TM). For the purposes of modern collecting, these are dolls primarily made of polyurethane resin, strung with elastic cord, customizable, and highly articulated.They stemmed from a combination of anime model kits + the aesthetics and jointing of some 19th-century European dolls, The first ones were made by the Volks company in the 1990s.

Nowadays there are dozens of legit companies out there, mostly in Japan, South Korea, and China, and even more individual BJD artists all over the world. And that’s not even counting the artists who sell goods and services for BJDs: wigs, clothes, eyes, faceups (basically, the painting on the doll’s face), furniture, accessories, etc. It’s quite a large community at this point.

These are dolls for adults. They’re usually made in very small batches or to order, and the term “company” can be deceiving. Often, it means something like “12 people in a rented studio in Seoul.” The materials have to be purchased. The artists have to be paid. There are bills and other overhead costs, and the product isn’t something that sells in high volumes. Basically it’s a quality over quantity operation, for most companies, and that means the dolls are expensive. Very basic “budget” BJDs start around $150, and it can get all the way into the thousands for very exclusive, OOAK dolls.

Enter recasters.

Recasting is basically bootlegging BJDs. Plain and simple. Recasters, usually factory owners in countries where production costs can be very low, either buy a legit doll or have it sent to them. They take a cast of the parts and start using the molds to produce copies of the doll. Those copies sell for a fraction of the legit dolls’ prices, because of course it’s easier to just crank out products when you don’t have to go through the development and sculpting processes. And when you can get away with paying your workers peanuts, using inferior materials, spending less time on the finishing work, skirting safety rules, etc.

Obviously, if the market is flooded with cheaper copies of an expensive doll, a lot of people will buy the cheap version without realizing it’s a knock-off. And that can drive legit companies out of business. Recasts, especially in recent years, have gotten VERY good at aping the look and feel of the original doll, so if you don’t know it’s a problem it can be very hard to tell the difference.

Or if you just don’t care.

Because, you see, there are people out there who are totally okay with this. A lot of them claim it’s a “more accessible” way to join the hobby, and that people who are against recasts (commonly called “pro-artist”) are just elitist snobs. Instead of, you know...decent human beings who don’t support art theft.

There are multiple lists of less-expensive legit BJDs out there, that people have taken considerable time and effort to compile. The most common argument from the pro-recast side that I’ve seen about this is basically “Well, if people want a specific higher-end doll, they shouldn’t have to settle for something ‘lesser!’ “ So even though a lot of work has gone into finding the most budget-friendly dolls in the hobby, apparently that’s still elitist. Somehow.

You can probably tell from my tone where I stand on this. I think it’s flatly absurd that people are driving small, artist-run companies or individual artists to bankruptcy because they feel they’re entitled to a certain luxury hobby item. And entitled to it right now, without even saving up or doing a layway.

(So many companies and secondhand sellers have layaways. Most BJD collectors are not rich. I’m banging my head against the wall thinking about just how many ways there are to make this hobby work on a budget that the pro-recast crowd just ignores or shoots down.)

Anyway now there’s the problem that sales pages for recasts tend to dominate generic searches like “BJD for sale,” and people from outside the community often know BJDs are a thing before they understand about recasts. If you see a doll for like $100 and the same doll for like $300 elsewhere, you might pick the cheaper option without stopping to think about it. Because you don’t know you need to think about it.

Once somebody clues these people in to what they’ve done, there are all too many pro-recast forums and blogs waiting to tell them that pro-artist collectors are just “mean, elitist bullies” and that recasts are totally fine. Which is probably what you’d want to hear if you just got this doll you really like, so people are ready to believe it. And thus the problem continues.

Honestly, it always surprises me a bit how angry I get about recasts. I’m not primarily a BJD collector. My main focus is antique and vintage dolls. I have three resin BJDs, all legit, and I’m mostly in it to have dolls I can actually take places without the risk of damaging a historical artifact.

I just. I hate the idea of artists getting ripped off, and people falling for scams that put them into bad situations because they don’t know any better. And ESPECIALLY other people who think artists’ ability to support themselves doesn’t matter.

So anyway, that’s a very long-winded explanation of the recast issue. Hope it was interesting and informative.

#ask #anon #dolls #bjds #long post #not only CAN similar dolls at cheaper price points drive companies out of business #they WILL #that's what happened with the French doll market in the late 19th century #the Germans made very similar child dolls and undercut their prices #turning the French doll companies from a booming international business #to something that limped along (mostly just in France) for another few decades- quality declining -until it finally died #history has a lesson here that the BJD community would do well to heed #if you want to keep having beautiful dolls made by artists who (for the most part) seem to actually get paid decent wages #this recast thing has to be stamped out

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keeptheotherone · 3 years

Photo

Mecation: Day 1

Thursday

I once read social media described as an indulgence of the fantasy that others are interested in the details of our lives. I’m indulging in that fantasy this week by blogging about my Mecation under the guise of travel blogging ;)

If you follow me in even the most casual way, you know I’m a nurse. While I’ve enjoyed the vast majority of my 23 years as such, I don’t recommend it during a pandemic. The last 18 months have been the second-worst mental health period of my life, demoted to that position not because of the mildness of my symptoms but simply because at 15 I didn’t have the experience or perspective to realize my life was not, in fact, ruined forever.

COVID increased my personal vulnerability as a high-risk patient and made my job immensely more difficult in countless ways both small and large, but the worst part of the pandemic for me (so far) is it took away all my coping mechanisms precisely when I needed them most. Massage, pedicures, dinner out with friends, travel ... all gone practically overnight. Pre-COVID I travelled all the time--home to my parents’, long weekends by myself (Mecation!), annual visits to BFFs, conferences, tourism, the beach, my birthday, writing trips, international trips ... I always had at least one trip in the works, usually one booked and one (or more!) in the planning stages.

When COVID started, all my close friends and family except for two lived out of state. One of those two was out of town but close enough to get together, but the other was a few hours’ drive away. I’m single and live alone; it was the most isolated I’ve ever been in my whole life.

With my bestest friends over 500 miles away, I still feel that way sometimes. I haven’t seen them in a year. If it weren’t for COVID, it would only be 7 or 8 months (I’ve gone every January or February since ... forever). Then again, if it weren’t for COVID, I wouldn’t have been there last September; one had been hospitalized and I needed to see she was all right with my own two eyeballs. I expect it will be at least another 7 or 8 months before we get together again, bringing the total to about 20 months. One year we saw each other 5 times in 9 months, our personal best since college.

I was alone on Christmas. Oh, I’ve spent December 25th on my own before; I’m a nurse. I’ve worked the night of the 24th or the 25th (or both), or whatever combination that didn’t leave enough time off to drive home. But I’ve never spent the Christmas season without my parents. Sometimes the week before, sometimes the week after, sometimes at my place instead of home, but always together. But last Christmas COVID was raging, the vaccines had just come out but were only available to first responders (I got mine on the 23rd), and my elderly parents didn’t feel safe to travel. So I spent Christmas without family.

Travel was not just a break from my daily routine and the stress of nursing; in many ways, the biggest benefit travel made to my mental and emotional health was giving me something to look forward to. Proverbs 13:12 says, “Hope deferred makes the heart sick,” and ohhh, I was so heartsick last year! Not being able to travel meant I couldn’t visit my best friends of almost 25 years (more than half my life!). Not being able to travel meant I couldn’t lean on my dad or be hugged by my mom. Not being able to travel--and not knowing when I could travel--left this gaping hole in my future, and I had nothing to fill it with.

I tell you this not to throw a pity party but to explain the significance of the trip I’m on right now. It is only my third this year: my dad and I spent a week in the mountains in February (my depression and anxiety was so bad then that was treatment, not vacation), I took a friend to the beach over my birthday, and now I’m a couple hours from home at a nice spa hotel. (I’m not counting my nephew’s graduation, which was emotionally challenging for multiple reasons, or helping a friend move from Florida. Moving is never fun.)

I started planning this trip in the spring ... May, maybe? You know, after the vaccine rolled out to everyone and case counts were dropping and it looked like we were gonna lick this thing and have a quasi-normal summer by the Fourth of July (yes, I’m American. That date is a proper noun here.). I had switched jobs in November (don’t ask) and gone on mental health leave December 29th, so I felt I owed it to my unit to put in about six months of work before taking any significant time off, especially since I came back at 24 hours instead of 36. That meant September.

I knew what I wanted to do: 4 or 5 days at an all-inclusive resort in the Caribbean. I’d been before and loved the freedom of not worrying about every little expenditure (what can I say, I’m cheap), and a few days of Vitamin Sea sounded perfect.

Then came Delta.

All right, maybe going out of the country isn’t the best idea, I thought. Don’t want to end up with expensive reservations and then your destination closes to Americans, or you make it to your chosen island but can’t get back home. But I didn’t want to fly (ugh, airports!), I didn’t want to drive (rest stops and restaurants and gas stations), and while I thought about taking the train, it didn’t seem much of an improvement (and maybe a downgrade) on flying.

Then a friend mentioned a sleeper car, and I thought yes! That could work! I’ve never been to New England, I want to go to Boston, that area of the country has low case rates and the highest vaccination rates, this has potential!

Then I looked at the CDC map. There were only four states that didn’t have high transmission at that time (early August, I think; I’d had to wait for confirmation that my time off had been approved): Michigan, Rhode Island, Maine, and New Hampshire. All four had substantial rates of transmission. Hardly ideal, but one thing I’ve learned this year is sometimes you have to make compromises to protect your mental health. It is true it doesn’t matter if you’re happy if you’re dead; it is also true it doesn’t matter if you’re safe if you want to kill yourself. (I’m not suicidal, I am receiving treatment, don’t anybody panic.)

So, now I’ve settled on Maine or New Hampshire by train via sleeper car (Michigan is too far for a 4-5 day trip and RI--meh). Well, as I got deeper into planning, turned out Maine or NH were awfully far too. Far enough I would have to overnight in a major city, which pretty much defeated the purpose of isolating in a sleeper car. Then I found out there were no sleeper cars on either train route.

So, now vacation is 5 weeks away and I’m back at square one. The Deep South, Texas, and Florida are imploding. Pediatric cases are rising--kids are sicker and make up a higher percentage of cases than they did last year. Scuttlebutt from my ICU colleagues is it’s bad--17/30 MICU beds are COVID and they’re all vented. SICU is being nicknamed “the ECMO unit.” The hospital has 18(!) ECMO machines and 12 are in use; the float nurse who tells us that didn’t even know we had 12 because she’s never seen that many in use at one time. Hospital-wide our numbers are equivalent to early February (we peaked in January). There were six--SIX--pediatric rapid responses in one day.

And I’m going to travel.

It’s a big deal ... a big accomplishment, really, because of what it says about how I’m successfully managing my anxiety. April 1 was the first time I’d been inside a grocery store in more than a year ... and that wasn’t my idea. It was late April or May before I was comfortable eating in restaurants, even with the falling case count at the time. I’m still not sure if I’m managing my anxiety or reacting to the pressure by going to the opposite extreme (I have a history of that), but I know I’m less stressed, less anxious, have fewer obsessive thoughts, fewer physical symptoms, and am learning to live with this disease.

So, here I sit at a marble-topped 5-foot-wide desk in my queen/queen hotel room at the end of a productive and enjoyable day. I slept in, completed the big goal of this weekend’s to-do list that I honestly thought would take several days, unpacked and organized my room (I arrived yesterday evening), reorganized my Favorites Bar and Bookmarks on my Mac, had an 80-minute aromatherapy massage, enjoyed a shower in the spa afterwards and even blow-dried my hair(!) before wandering around for a while to get the lay of the land and get some steps in (this place is huge!). Then I changed clothes and took myself out to dinner for my favorite food, Italian.

That’s me in the picture up top, all dressed up :) Actually, I probably look pretty normal to y’all; like most people with depression, my personal hygiene sunk to new lows in the last year and a half, and as a low-maintenance person to begin with, that’s saying a lot. I bought that necklace as a bridesmaid and am not sure I’ve worn it since; this spring was her 10th anniversary. Yesterday I took out the cat-shaped earrings Dad gave me for Christmas. (Yes, they were gross. Yes, I cleaned them. Yes, I’m wearing them again now.) Just wearing a nice top, fixing my hair (no ponytail or claw-clip bun, my staples), and adding jewelry was a big deal ... especially since “no one” was going to see me. I did it just for me, to make myself feel good. And I did. (That’s another small pleasure COVID took away from me--lip gloss. If I wore any makeup at all, it was lipstick or gloss. Utterly pointless when you’re masked whenever you’re in public.)

I took my laptop to dinner and edited a couple chapters of my new Charlie/Amy fic (previewed during #ktoo turns 10), ran a couple errands, and headed back to the hotel since I don’t like to be out late by myself in an unfamiliar city. Forgot I put my receipt envelope in the backseat pocket and reorganized the glove compartment looking for it, then gathered a bunch of returns into a bag in the trunk. Hung out writing in the lobby until my Mac threatened to die, came upstairs and tidied up, put on my jammies, and talked to you guys :)

#ktoo travels #covid coping #mental health #about ktoo #ktoo nurses #herself

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skullrock · 4 years

Text

casanova - Steve x Reader

pairing: Steve x Reader

summary: You try to save Steve from himself when he gets a little too drunk at a party.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: angst!!!, self doubt, alcohol, drugs, party scenes

a/n: yes I know y'all want fluff and I keep feeding you angst I am so sorry

===

You watched Steve from afar once you filled a red plastic cup with water, passing it off as straight vodka.

You’d never drink straight vodka, but it worked.

Steve had begged you to come with him to a party, to get fucked up, to let loose. It had been three weeks since Nancy left him for Jonathan, and three weeks since Bob Newby died, and the Gate was closed. Steve was spiraling, and fast. He was always one to want to be the center of attention, but he had become even more desperate for any kind he could get. You were just thankful Billy kept a large distance between them – or you were pretty sure Steve would beat the shit out of him. Steve’s face had only just healed, and his memory was failing him, but he refused to get checked out – he just wanted to get as shitfaced as humanly possible.

And as you stand across the room and watch him, talking to a group of people loudly, you can’t help but feel like you failed him. You should have forced him to stay home. You feel nauseous just looking at him – how his shoulders sag with the weight of the world on him. How he can’t stand upright because of the alcohol. How his eyes are just slits from the pot. You are counting down the seconds until you intervene, but your nerves keep you against the wall.

Steve makes eye contact with you from where he’s standing, and his eyes squint even more as a large smile spreads on his face. It makes you sick. It’s genuine, but it’s not genuine. If he were sober, he wouldn’t be smiling that fucking big.

He meanders over to you, throwing his arm around your shoulder. “Hey!”

“Steve,” you say, knees buckling under the weight of his arm. “You okay?”

“No,” he says. “’Cause you’re not drinkin’.”

“I am,” you reply, holding up the cup.

Steve snorts. “That’s water.” He points to his head. “I’m not stupid.”

You nod. “Okay, buddy.”

“’m gonna get more,” he says, but you pull on the back of his sweater.

“No,” you say. “You’ve had enough. Just relax, alright?”

“Alright, dad,” he says, laughs loudly, and then stalks away.

You want to drink. You want to drink so bad. The headache that’s building gnaws on your brain, and you know it’s only going to get worse. The music makes your head pound, too, so you head off to a bathroom to calm down.

Steve knows he’s gone too far tonight, but he decides to lean into it instead of sobering up. The dizziness in his head feels good. Making people laugh feels good. He feels wanted and loved for the first time since Billy stepped foot in Hawkins, and it’s intoxicating. He loves the fame, the attention, he loves feeling the smile on his face. He throws back drink after drink, smokes puff after puff, and soon, he can hardly stand.

He sits on the couch, watching the room wave around him. He hears someone talking beside him, and he turns. It’s a girl he doesn’t know – or maybe doesn’t remember – and he blinks hard. “Hello.”

Soon, her hand is resting on his knee, and his is on hers, and they’re leaning in too close. He loves it. She’s not Nancy – he knows that, he knows that – but he can pretend. He can pretend someone wants him and loves him. It doesn’t hurt him. Not when he’s this fucked up, at least.

But you’ve come to his rescue, pulling him up from under the arms, dragging him as he loudly protests out to your car. He stumbles, he slurs, he shouts, but you keep pulling him.

Seeing him with that girl nearly made you throw up. And not because of your own feelings for the guy - but because Steve was about to be taken advantage of, and you could have prevented that from simply not letting him get this fucked up in the first place. You know he will hate you for “ruining his shot”, but you weren’t about to let him get hurt like that. He’s been through enough.

You get Steve into the car and buckle him up. He’s gone silent and you know it’s because he’s filling with rage. You know there will be a tantrum coming, and you mentally prepare yourself for whatever insults King Steve can find within him.

Halfway to his house, he finally speaks. “You’re an asshole.”

You wince but remain unfazed. “Okay.”

“Can’t believe… trying to ruin my life.”

You sigh heavily. “I’m not ruining your life.”

“You are.” He squeezes his eyes shut.

You stay silent, not wanting to fuel it further.

Steve seems to forget that he’s mad at you for a moment when you’re pulling him out of the car. Actually, he acts like he doesn’t remember being in the car with you at all, giving you a surprised, “Hey!” when you sling his arm over your shoulder. You grab the spare key under his welcome mat and stumble inside, Steve making no effort to walk for himself.

You finally get him into his room, gently sitting him on the bed. He grabs your hands and pulls you towards him, but you push off quickly, blushing profusely. It’s then that Steve realizes you’re not the girl he was flirting with on the couch, and his eyes read betrayal. He stands and falls back down on his ass, huffing. “The fuck is your problem?”

Here we go, you think. “Steve –“

“Why can’t you let me be happy?”

“I’m not the one getting in the way of your happiness, Steve.”

“’s that supposed to mean?”

You rummage through his desk to find his ibuprofen. You bite your tongue, although you want to tell him off so badly.

Your silence only fuels Steve. “’s your problem? Why can’t you have… have fun? With me?”

You slam a drawer shut and turn to him. “What’s so fucking fun about getting shitfaced at any available chance?”

Steve looks surprised, but his eyes narrow. “You’re just as bad as her.”

You laugh. “I’m just as bad as Nancy? For saving you from yourself?”

“I didn’t ask you to save me.”

You roll your eyes and open another drawer, finding the ibuprofen. You take out a few and shove them towards Steve with a water bottle from his nightstand, but he just slaps your hand so that the pills fly everywhere.

Steve, when angry, acts like a four-year-old, and he’s even worse when he’s drunk.

“Fine,” you say, sitting the bottle and the water on his nightstand. “You can suffer in the morning. I did my part.”

“You have no right,” he says, voice surprisingly clear, “to tell me what to do with my life. I wanted to be with that girl.”

“No, Steve, you didn’t. You wanted to feel special.”

“Is that so bad?”

You shake your head and turn to go towards his wardrobe to get him new clothes. He reeks of cheap beer and pot. “You need to start taking care of yourself.”

He stands then, striding over to where you are and pushing you to the side to grab his own pajamas. You roll your eyes at him and step aside, letting him clumsily search through his things. He pulls out a white t-shirt and a pair of gym shorts that definitely don’t fit him anymore. He throws his clothes off aggressively, stumbling as he puts the shorts on, and then looks at you like he’s just done something incredible.

You’re pretty impressed, because he usually wears his party clothes to sleep.

You walk him back to his bed, gently sitting him down again. His fists are clenched, and his jaw is tight – it’s heartbreaking to see him like this. Tears well in his eyes and he whispers, “I hate you.”

“You hate me for taking care of you more than anyone has in a year?” you ask, kneeling in front of him. You grab his hands and force him to lace his fingers through yours. His grip is still tight, but he’s not at risk of breaking his fingers on his palms. “You hate me for caring about you?”

“I don’t need your help,” he slurs. “I’m not a kid.”

“You do need help, Steve. I’m not letting you get like this every week. I’m –“

“You’re worse than her, do you know that?”

It hurts, but you were prepared for that low blow. “You’ll get over it, Steve.”

He ungrips your hands, pushing you away weakly. “I want you to go.”

“Fine,” you say. You stand, but then kneel back down again. You gently grab his wrists and try to catch his eyes. “Steve… there’s more to life than stupid Nancy Wheeler.”

“You think this is just about Nancy?” His voice cracks and a tear falls onto his cheek. “You think – you think it’s just because the love of my life left me?”

You’re silent.

“It’s because Billy Hargrove beat my head in so fucking bad that I – I can’t even remember my locker combination. It’s because everyone looks at me like I’m dirt. It’s because girls treat me like I’m a temple, or whatever – I don’t remember the saying. God, I don’t remember anything.” He takes a shaky breath. “My head hurts, all the time. It races. I can’t fall asleep until four in the morning. I worry about the kids on an hourly basis. Bob Newby died, and I couldn’t do a god damn thing to save him.”

Your eyes shoot downwards, guilt coiling around your gut, hot and tight.

“And to take the cake – the girl I loved, more than anything in the world, left me for the same guy she told me not to worry about. She told me I was bullshit. She told me I killed Barb.” You hear him sniffle and your heart aches. “Do you have any idea how much that hurts?”

“No,” you whisper – because you truly don’t.

It’s quiet for a long time. Your eyes are locked on the floor, and Steve’s are locked on his comforter. Finally, you whisper, “I’m sorry.”

He shrugs out of the grip of your hands on his wrists. “I want you to go.”

“Okay.”

You make your way towards the door before he calls out, “Can you tuck me in?”

His voice is so small and weak. Steve hates it more than anything. He feels like a kid again – he feels just like he did when he had nightmares and his parents didn’t do anything but send him back to bed. But he wants that safety – needs it – and so he needs you to tuck him in.

You walk back. Steve lays down, wrapping his arms around a pillow and tucking his knees up to his chest. You tuck the sheets in tightly around him, and he squeezes his eyes shut. You can see tears running down his cheeks, and you again whisper, “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” he says. He sounds worn and exhausted.

“Steve,” you say quietly. “I care about you so much.”

“I know.”

“I just didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“I know.”

“Okay.” You’re about to walk away when Steve’s hand emerges from the covers, grabbing yours. He pulls and you trip, falling onto the bed, and Steve opens the blankets up for you to crawl under.

“Stay,” he says. “Please.”

You take a deep breath and contemplate – is it really okay to crawl in with him? But he looks so lost and sad, and you don’t want to leave him on his own tonight. So you crawl in, wrapping your arms around Steve tightly.

You can feel his tears on the cold sheets. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry I fucked it all up.”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt,” you explain, holding him tighter. “I don’t want anyone to take advantage of you. I don’t want you to feel like you need to prove yourself.” Your throat starts to burn as tears creep in. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to be someone you’re not.”

“I don’t want to feel like that, either.”

It’s quiet for a bit more, and you think maybe Steve’s fallen asleep. But then he whispers, “You’re not like her. I don’t hate you.” He pauses. “And I don’t hate her.”

“I know,” you say. You reach for one of his hands and stroke his thumb with yours. “It’s alright, Steve.”

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” he says. “I didn’t mean it.”

“I know.”

“I want to get better, Y/N.”

You press your forehead into his shoulder. “I want to help you get better.”

Steve picks up your hand and presses his lips to the back of it. Your stomach flips and jumps and twists, the breath knocked out of you. You love him.

“You mean everything to me,” he whispers. “You’ve been here for me through everything. And you never ran away. You never left.”

“How could I?” you ask. “You’re the best thing in my life.”

“I love you,” he says. It’s weak and faint, but there’s a truth behind it, whatever that truth may be.

“I love you, too.”

Soon, his breaths become shallow, and his chest rises and falls softly. You press yourself tighter against him and squeeze the arm circling his torso. He might forget it in the morning – he almost certainly will – but you love him, too, and you’re going to help him get better.

===

taglist (join here!): @harrington-ofhawkins @comedy-witch @gothackedalready @wolfish-willow @sassisaluxury @willowrose99 @harringtown @m-blasterrr @whimsicalwoodlands @anerroroccurrrrred @marvels-gurl @the-almond-dinger @ssanjuniperoo @darth-el @sourapplebaby @yall-wildin-like-siriusly @andyl394 @astil-be @troop-scoop @ilovebucketbarnes @with-a-little-bit-of-light @unknownherelm @metuel18

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington angst #me: I will write myself a comfort fic #me: jk I will write abt Steves trauma #I PROMISE I WILL POST HAPPY STUFF SOON

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thelightofthingshopedfor · 3 years

Note

Goddamn it Kyra I wasn't even interested in the Lego Lokis before, but now that you've so rudely posted pics of the options I'm probably going to have to buy some. So, couple questions: I'm not familiar with the website you linked to (it doesn't help that I'm on my phone lol) - do you get them from that site or just Aliexpress? I've kind of poked around there but I don't think I've ever actually bought anything - do you have links to those ones you bought or any tips for finding them on the site? (or like. using the site in general without getting scammed or something? Idk much about it other than stuff being low priced lol).

😇😇😇

putting the rest behind a cut because oops this got long

OKAY SO the cool thing about knockoff Lego figures is that a) there are a ton of them, so you can probably find multiple versions of most characters, and b) they're super cheap, so if you do end up getting ripped off, you're probably only out a few bucks. plus if you don't get ripped off, you feel like a genius, because authentic Lego minifigs tend to cost way more than they should (and if you get them online, you probably don't have a good way to know that they're authentic) and here you are getting something just as good or better for way less.

the site I was getting pictures from is HeroBloks, which I only just discovered myself a couple days ago; it looks like mostly it's good for tracking your collection (and learning more about bootleg Lego minifigs in general, maybe--I didn't really realize until now how many different companies there are making Lego-like minifigs) rather than buying, with individual pages including sale links that are only mildly useful. like, the extremely sad TVA Loki has an AliExpress search link that apparently just searches for "blocks," which is the least helpful search term imaginable; the eBay link uses "xinh+xh1745+loki (tva)" as the search term and that's definitely better, although it doesn't actually turn up anything. maybe that one's too new to be widely available yet, I don't know. (I hope that's the case. I need him and his sad little face to come and live with me.)

anyway--eBay is a possible source. searching for "loki minifigure" gets me results for several of the new ones I’ve been seeing, and they all seem to be shipping from Japan or South Korea. the problem is they're all selling for $4.99 plus $7.49 shipping each, which is...more than I want to spend on something I know is a knockoff of some kind when I don't know anything about the quality control and I'm not guaranteed to get what's in the picture. (here's another listing asking $40 total for all 8 figures I bought yesterday, which is actually a better price, and I'd probably end up doing that if I hadn't found them elsewhere, but that's because I have a problem.)

this is why I like AliExpress, because the risks are slightly higher but the prices tend to be much lower, even with shipping prices having gone up a bit over the last couple years. as I understand it, the site is basically just a huge marketplace for tons of different sellers in Asia, like if eBay only allowed fixed-price listings and it was based in China. the vast majority of the site reads like it went through Google Translate, because it probably did. you can find...basically anything there. I have no idea if any of it's authentic. (I also don't know anything about how or where any of the knockoff stuff is made, so...there is that.) I would not, for instance, drop $300 on a Hot Toys Loki from here, even though I absolutely would have the option to do so, for the obvious reason that I'm not going to risk that much money on an item that might be a cheap knockoff or could arrive broken. there is, in general, a solid possibility of breakable things arriving broken, because decent packaging costs more. cheap shipping will be slow (by which I mean like...up to 90 days), and most purchases either won't have tracking at all or won't have accurate tracking, so this is absolutely not a place to buy anything you want to get quickly. you also don't want to just buy something and forget about it, because there are (variable but generous) time limits past which you can't get a refund if you don't receive your items. the site's UI is...mostly functional. you often have to get a little creative with your search terms to find what you want (and sometimes you won’t find what you want through searching, but through looking at related items on the pages of things that aren’t quite what you want or are what you want but aren’t a good price). you will, absolutely, come across a lot of stolen art on things like pins, t-shirts, stickers, and phone cases, which you might not realize until you see something you recognize from a fanartist you like, and obviously that sucks. listing photos are nearly always stock photos, so in many cases they won't tell you anything about the item you're actually getting. you know the Wish app, and all the crazy things people get from that? you can find all the same stuff on AliExpress, at similar levels of quality.

however, if you approach it keeping all that in mind, it can be a great resource. I can't make any guarantees about the site's safety, but to the best of my knowledge it's secure and I've never had any weird charges show up after buying something. it's also my understanding that Alibaba, the parent company, is more or less the Chinese equivalent of Amazon in terms of the amount of business it does, which would probably be pretty tough if customer data were routinely being exposed to thieves, you know? I've also successfully gotten several refunds for items that never arrived, which actually hasn't happened all that often--but knowing that it can happen and that the return period expires, I’ll check back on the site if it seems like it’s been an unusually long time and I’ll make a reminder for myself of the deadline so I can contact the seller in time if necessary.

so the way I shop there is, I don't buy expensive or fragile things in general, because I recognize there's a nonzero chance I'll get a cheap knockoff, or something that was broken in transit because the seller tossed it in a box with no padding and called it good, or sometimes nothing at all. but like eBay, the sellers and items have ratings and reviews from customers, so that helps avoid some risk. items with lots of reviews tend to include at least a few customer photos, which are great for getting a better idea of what the thing you're buying actually looks like. I took a bit of a risk last year buying a Hot Toys (or the equivalent, I actually have no idea) Steve Rogers head for about $20, for instance, but I wasn't super worried about it because the customer photos looked good, the seller I used had a lot of sales and a lot of good ratings, and it was still a lot less than I would've paid for an authentic Hot Toys Steve Rogers head--and in fact he got here just fine and he looked fantastic. I also spent about $20 for a knockoff Iron Studios Loki statue, because in that case it was like...yep I’d love the real thing, nope I’m not willing to spend hundreds of dollars on it, yep I am willing to spend $20 on something that doesn’t look quite as nice but still looks good enough for me in the customer photos. well, and I’ve also bought knockoffs I knew would look bad, because they were cheap and I want all the Lokis and I have enough of an addiction that all the Lokis does in fact sometimes mean “even ones that look really bad” to me.

anyway, uh, Lego-type minifigs. this is an especially good area to go knockoff, because--okay, apparently I can’t link to a page of HeroBloks search results for some reason, but it’s the best resource I’ve found for this type of thing that isn’t just authentic Lego figures. but if you go there and do a search for “loki” you’ll get a bunch of results and you’ll see that they come from like...9 or 10 different brands. Lego specifically has only four Loki options: Avengers Loki in black, Avengers Loki in gray for some reason (which, frankly, looks like a cheap knockoff but isn’t), movie-inaccurate Ragnarok Loki with the blue outfit and the full helmet, an ugly Classic Loki, and a mostly green Loki from I guess the first Thor movie (and then I think they’re going to release a TVA Loki, a Sylvie, and a Throg). all those other results--all those different outfits from every single Loki appearance, and different variations on those outfits, nearly all of them more screen-accurate and/or detailed than the Lego versions--are technically knockoffs. they’re better and you can buy them for way less. (I mean, a lot of them are new so I don’t have them yet, but I do have frost giant Loki, better Ragnarok Loki, better Avengers Loki, opera Loki who actually has another face that’s half-Jotun, and at least one chrome-helmet option, and they all look basically like the photos. so I think I can reasonably expect most of the new ones to look basically like their photos too.)

for reasons that I don’t understand aside from a vague guess that it’s copyright-related, AliExpress pretty much no longer shows full pictures of Lego-type figures in their listings--instead, you have to pick just based on the heads. this is a problem when lots of heads look very similar to each other! luckily, the listings also typically have the actual serial numbers for each figure, as do the HeroBloks listings, so you can cross-reference them to see what you’re really getting. for instance let’s take this listing because it’s cheap and it offers most of the Loki figures that are currently available. say you’re interested in one of the horn-less Lokis. there are...let’s see, five of them, but you have no idea what they actually look like aside from slightly different facial expressions and maybe weapons. however, the first one listed says XH1359 for its color...and what do you know, 1359 is the serial number for this Loki by a company called Xinh. okay cool, how about the last one? the “color” is listed as WM2182--and yes, HeroBloks has a listing for a Ragnarok Loki from World Minifigures with the serial number 2182. (I just ordered all 8 of the new World Minifigures ones yesterday, so again, I can’t personally guarantee yet that they’ll look as good in person as in the pictures--but I think they probably will, and more importantly they cost a whole dollar each.) and if HeroBloks doesn’t have a particular figure, you can probably find something useful just by googling the serial number.

I specifically bought from this listing yesterday because they currently have a bit of a sale going and a deal for free shipping if you buy 10 figures, and I wanted a couple duplicates, so it worked out to be the cheapest option. the same store has another listing for a bunch more Marvel characters, including a couple more Lokis I already had, so it should be pretty easy to get the free shipping so the figures are less than a dollar each and you’re only risking about $10. if you’d rather try one or two and see how it goes, it looks like this listing is probably the cheapest, with figures currently going for a little over a dollar each once you add shipping (although it’s totally possible shipping is more for me because Alaska).

that’s...probably already way more information than you really wanted, but I hope at least some of it makes sense. feel free to ask other specific questions if they come up--I might not be able to give answers exactly, but I can probably tell you what my experience has been, which is better than nothing.

#loki #action figures #lego #marvel cinematic universe #conversations #scintillatingshortgirl19

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bramblebee · 3 years

Note

9 for the AU asks?

9 - *hands you a mallet* choose an event in this arc and tweak it to the party’s detriment: a boss’s ability goes off, an old enemy shows up unexpectedly, the squad manages to piss off someone important, etc. follow the consequences of this change along until it results in something good for the party that didn’t happen in canon.

Okay, I rolled a 1, which means I get to break something in London/the prologue! Excellent.

I’m going to go for the low-hanging fruit and sabotage the boss fight against the Serpentines and Guy Fawkes, a.k.a. Augusta, a.k.a. Byron’s sister. This one got really long and really weird. Read on for zombie sea serpents and a whole buncha murders.

(this diverges when the party is sneaking into the Serpentine’s lair in episode 14)

Sasha tumbles through the tower window, sneaks up behind Augusta and her associates, and sticks a knife in Augusta’s back -- or tries to, at least. But she’s wearing armor under her clothing, the knife bounces off, and now Sasha’s managed to attract the attention of two guards and a pissed spellcaster.

They knock her out before she can retreat, then force the rest of the party to back down. And, just like that, the squad are prisoners all over again. As if getting captured by Barrett’s men wasn’t humiliation enough.

Some of Augusta’s people recognize Sasha and realize that by keeping her prisoner they’re risking Barrett’s ire. Hamid overhears, flashes his ring around, applies Prestidigitation liberally, and generally makes it very clear that the Serpentines do not want them as prisoners.

Augusta, though, is less impressed. She’s trained in magic and can see exactly what Hamid’s doing. On top of that, she tells the party that they’re not the only ones reporting to Barret: and indeed, she’s wearing a ring of her own.

They cut a deal: Augusta will let them go, but only after they do a task for her (this way, if they go to the authorities they’ll be implicated, too). Otherwise, she’ll kill them and turn Sasha over to Barrett -- she seems confident that Barrett wouldn’t be upset with this turn of events.

The party agrees. Their egos are in bad shape, they feel like they’re in way over their heads, and this could be a chance to sabotage the Serpentines instead of dying for their stubbornness (Zolf has final say, and Bertie and Hamid are pretty displeased with the decision).

Just as they’re settling things, an alarm goes up -- the Serpentine stronghold is being attacked again. The party can’t see anything about the raiders, just cloaks and an air of negative energy.

They’re out of time. Augusta threatens their lives again and tells them the conditions have changed: she wants Sasha, Hamid, and one of her agents to complete the task. Bertie and Zolf, meanwhile, won’t be able to manage the escape. She wants them to stand by her and hold the fortress.

At this point, they don’t have much of a choice but to agree.

Augusta hands over a surprisingly heavy package to Sasha and Hamid, introduces them to her operative (Sasha’s gymnastics crush), and tells them to carry it out across the rooftops and plant it in a central location near Upper London’s Meritocratic headquarters.

Sasha, Hamid, and Flips McGee make it out just as the Alchemist’s Fire ignites, and spend the next few minutes just running like hell. They stop to breathe, Sasha grabs the package and gets ready to run off with it, but Flips manages get a knife to Hamid’s throat before she can manage.

Sasha demands to know what’s in the package.

A bioweapon, says Flips. It’s supposed to get into the brains of the elite, make it clear to the people of Other London that it’s time to rise up.

Hamid grows claws, freaks Flips out, and manages to slip free and get off a Magic Missile.

They overpower Flips and demand to know how to disarm the package. He laughs at them: there’s no way to stop it. It’s been a time bomb since it was created. It’s just a question of where they plant it.

How long do they have? He shrugs. Days at best, hours at worst.

They knock him out and leave him for dead in an alleyway, then run back in the other direction. Their party members need them.

The battle is long over by the time they make it back. They return to find the Thames has overflown its banks. On its surface float alien corpses with tentacles and beaks under hooded cloaks.

At the center of it all is Zolf, head bowed, water up almost to his shoulders.

Bertie’s dead. Augusta’s dead. Zolf’s the only one left again, thanks to his god.

Hamid and Sasha tell him about the package. They agree they need to get rid of it as soon as possible, and they can’t risk it getting near anyone important.

Zolf says they’ll take it to the ocean. He glances around and mutters something along the lines of ‘Poseidon can keep it.’

They take the fastest train they can find, wade into Dover’s storm, rent a dinghy for dirt-cheap, and unwrap the Simulacrum’s head in the middle of the maelstrom.

The dump it unceremoniously into the Channel, then do everything they can just to survive the storm. They wash up on the French coast, waterlogged and purposeless. Wander up to an inn and drink the night away.

Wilde finds them there. He’s more serious this time -- the Meritocracy’s scared and confused. They want to know what happened in Other London.

The remnants of the party have no answers for him. Their puzzle pieces all either blew up or drowned. Wilde leaves them his contact information and departs.

For a while, they act as a normal mercenary group. The storms are wreaking havoc all along the coastline, and people are grateful for the extra hands. It would almost be peaceful, if not for Sasha’s growing paranoia, Hamid’s restlessness with the menial tasks, and Zolf’s nightmares of a darkening sea and a corrupted god...

Wilde returns. There’s something dreadfully wrong with the ocean. He thinks it’s related to what they did. He thinks they can help fix it, too.

They charter a ship and hire a crew (including Barnes and maaaaybe Kiko because I want them there even if it doesn’t make logical sense). From there, they set off into the deep ocean, fighting blue-veined sea monsters and trying to understand what could be causing this.

Meanwhile, the infection spreads to land, Zolf’s powerset starts to subtly change, and it becomes clear that Poseidon himself has been overtaken by the infection.

I’m gonna say that the good thing that happens to the party is Sasha getting to be on a ship, ‘cause other than that this is a pretty bad situation...

#rqg #ask game #asks #melancholicpareidolia #this features all sorts of wild and completely unfounded speculation about the motives of the serpentines the cult of hades and barrett #there's a version of this where sasha's acrobat crush survives and joins the party but eh #ignore all that the important part is the fucked up sea monsters #i'm sorry this took so long... was waiting for things to click into place so i could throw out something interesting #dunno if this qualifies but i do love it aesthetically

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urbancripple · 4 years

Link

I’ve updated my gear page and added more of my recent recommendations. I also fixed the shitty image formatting so stuff isn’t cut off :D

Each purchase made through those links helps support my site. So many of your have done that recently and it’s been a great help with keeping things running around here. I deeply appreciate it.

This article contains one or more Amazon Affiliate Links. As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases.

Urban Cripple’s Wheelchair Gear and Accessories

If you want suggestions on what kind of gear you should get for your wheelchair, check out this list.

Wheelchair Tools

Every Day Carry (EDC)

In the Kitchen

Around the House

Bags and Carrying Cases

Food and Fuel

Wheelchair Tools

I don’t carry a ton of gear with me when I go out, but what I do have is super critical to staying safe and mobile while rolling through god‐knows‐what in the streets. Most of this stuff falls in the “Oh shit!” category. You won’t need it every day, but you’ll be glad you have it when you do.

Tekton Long Arm Ball End Hex Key Wrench Set

Most wheelchair components are held together with either with some kind of hex screw. If something goes wrong, you’re going to need a set of wrenches to fix it.

I like this particular set because it comes with both metric and standard wrenches and folds so it can lay flat in your bag or tool wrap.

Pedro’s Tire Levers

Don’t let their size fool you: these are great tire levers. What I love most about these things is the fact that they come in pairs and are designed to wrap around a spoke so you can keep one in place while using the other to remove the tire.

When not in use, they snap together and can easily be tossed in a bag or stashed under your chair.

PRO Bike CO2 Inflator

If you realize your tires are dangerously low after leaving the house or you pop a tube and need to reinflate the replacement, you’ll need a C02 inflator.

Make sure you always keep a couple of spare cartridges on you and remember to never store a fresh C02 cartridge in the inflator: it’ll just be flat by the time you need it.

Black And Decker ASI300 Air Station Inflator

For regular tire maintenance, I really love this air compressor. It’s powerful enough to fill a standard wheelchair tire but small enough to travel in a vehicle. It can even be powered by your car’s DC outlet.

Every Day Carry

This is the stuff I keep with me and use every day.

Foldable Phone Stand That Fits In Your Wallet

It’s a ridiculous piece of plastic and aluminum, but it fits in your wallet and actually works really well to hold your phone up. I use it when doing video calls with coworkers so I don’t have to move my laptop, open it up and plug in my wired headphones.

Harbinger Pro Non‐Wristwrap Weightlifting Gloves

By far, gloves are the most important piece of gear for your chair. City streets are super gross and full of hazards that can stain, cut, or bruise your hands. A good pair of gloves should offer you plenty of protection from hazards while allowing you to maintain your grip, dexterity, and the ability to use touch‐sensitive devices like a smartphone.

That’s why I love these weightlifting gloves from Harbinger. They have enough padding in the palms to protect from dirt, grime, and heat (gripping your tires while going down hill can burn your hands) while the fingerless design lets you keep your dexterity and use a smartphone.

Tactical Flashlight

I know we all usually use our phones when we need a flashlight, but I find a dedicated flashlight to be a lot more effective ( and a lot less expensive if you drop it.)

These flashlights are small, light, and crazy bright. They also come with various modes including strobe and S.O.S.

Contigo Extreme Vacuum Insulated Stainless Steel Travel Mug with Handle

The only way you can safely carry a hot beverage while pushing a wheelchair is by keeping it in an airtight container. I really like this mug because it’s insulated and has a clip. The clip is great because you can easily attach it to your bag or to the back of your chair (I use the backrest release bar). Because it seals so well, you don’t have to worry about it spilling.

Snap Lock Folding Pocket Knife

I like this knife because it’s small, sharp, and easy to carry. Just don’t accidentally leave it in your jeans for the TSA to find (true story).

AmazonBasics Lightning Cable

Fun fact: lightning cables are super cheap if you get them from anywhere except Apple.

Cocoon Grid‐IT Organizer

These things are great for taking all the small stuff that usually ends up rolling around in your bag and keeping it in one place.

Portable Charger Power Bank 22400mAh

Having your phone die is terrifying. This thing will charge your phone and tablet several times over. However, it does take a long time to charge the battery itself.

Slim Portable Charger Power Bank 10000mah

It won’t charge your device as fast or as many times, but it won’t take up nearly as much room in your bag as the other battery.

In the Kitchen

Cooking while everything that is boiling or on fire is at face‐level can be a bit daunting. Here’s some stuff that’ll make it safer and easier.

Meal Prep Containers: 3 Compartment with Lids, Food Containers

These meal prep containers are microwave/dishwasher safe and they stack. It’s a great way to prep meals and save yourself some time and energy.

Extra‐Large Silicone Freezing Tray with Lid

These trays are great for freezing stews and sauces and such. I do a lot of large batch cooking and these are waaay easier than trying to portion stuff out into ziplock bags. The lids make it easy to move it around one handed (what wheelchair user hasn’t gotten wet trying to refill an ice cube tray?)

Silicone Baking Mat

These things are a life saver in the kitchen. Basically, if you use them, you’ll never have to clean a baking sheet/pan ever again.

16 inch Kitchen Tongs

When sitting in a wheelchair and using the stove top, it can be really tough to reach both the temperature dials and anything sitting on the back burner. These super long tongs let you easily reach and turn the knobs on your stove and anything that might be sizzling away on your back burners.

Ove Glove

These things are machine washable and can withstand up to 540 degrees of temperature. They grip well and make it easy to get stuff in and out of the oven. In a pinch, they’ll even double as a makeshift pot holder.

OXO Steel Press & Pour Insulated Cocktail Shaker

If you’re looking for a cocktail shaker that doesn’t freeze your hands off, won’t burst open, and can be operated with one hand, you should get this one. I make a lot of cocktails at home and I really hate cocktail shakers. Your standard Boston style shaker has a tendency to break open on you if you don’t seal it right (and that means your chair gets covered in booze) and it’s a pain to open if you seal it too tightly. This cocktail shaker has a really straight‐forward design. The top is screw-on, it has a simple push button in the lid for pouring and sealing, and it can pour from any direction. I highly recommend it for folks who wanna mix drinks at home but don’t wanna risk wearing their beverage.

Around the House

This is the stuff I keep around specifically because it makes daily life easier for me when I’m at home.

Microfiber Cleaning Cloth

For folks trying to keep their place clean while avoiding using up too many cleaning wipes or paper towels, I’ve found that having a stack of cheap microfiber cloths on hand plus a mix of water and vinegar in a spray bottle really helps keep things sparkly while cutting down on waste.

Multi‐Position Heavy Duty Folding Hand Truck and Dolly

This dolly is great if you need to move something that’s too big or too heavy to carry on your lap. It can be configured in multiple ways and folds up easily for storage.

Retractable Dog Leash

Walking your dog with a standard leash can be tough if you’re in a wheelchair. I use a retractable dog leash with my dog so that I can easily adjust the amount of slack I need to keep her under control while not getting the leash tangled in my chair. In addition, the size of the handle lets me easily loop it through the buckle of my Grab‐It Pack, which means I can securely hold onto the dog while pushing my chair with both hands.

Bags and Carrying Cases

All of the various bags and slings I use to carry stuff when I’m out of the house.

13.3 Inch Sling Bag Riding Hiking Bag Single Shoulder Backpack

This bag is small and doesn’t have a ton of storage, but I wanted something that I could wear constantly and had just enough room to hold my backup charging cables and small tools so that I could go out without having to have as much physically strapped to me. If you need something with more storage, they have a bunch of different sizes that are meant to hold more stuff.

This isn’t the exact bag I use day‐to‐day but it is the correct style. I really like the sling style bags: they’re light enough to not restrict my movement and the single strap means it won’t shift around as I push my chair.

Food and Fuel

This is the stuff I carry with me in case I’m too busy to pack a proper meal.

ThinkThin High Protein Bars

It’s always a good idea to keep some kind of portable snack in your bag if you think you’re going to be out and about for an extended period of time. I like to keep a couple of these ThinkThin bars in my bag just in case I’m stuck between meal times. They don’t taste like death or cardboard and they’re not just a glorified candy bar.

#gear #disability #wheelchair #recommendations

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forever-rogue · 5 years

Text

Disappear Here - 1/4

A/N: So, I’ve decided to turn this into a little series because I have no sense of brevity, and why not? So here’s part 1, which I hope you enjoy! As always, feedback is welcome! xx

Based on this blurb

Pairing: Javier Peña x reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: language

MASTERLIST

PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

ALTERNATIVE ENDING

SEQUEL

»»————-　♡　————-««

One Year Ago

You felt your eyes growing heavy as you tried to follow along to the late night rerun of a telenovela that was currently playing on one of the local channels. It was the only thing that was illuminating the small living room, everything else was bathed in darkness, much like your heart at the moment. You’d been sitting there for some time, ever since you’d gotten home from the embassy, in a vain attempt to keep your mind occupied. If you tried to focus all your energy into trying to keep up with the rapid Spanish, maybe no dark thoughts would impede the light buzz that was flowing through your veins .

The empty wine bottle on the coffee table was supposed to help aid in your plan to chase away all the negative thoughts there were creeping in at the idea of Javier still being gone. He was supposed to be back today, supposed to be back in the office along with Steve, but neither of them had returned. It had been nothing but radio silence from their end.

Instead, you’d spent the day performing all sorts of menial tasks around the office, waiting for either of your partners to bursting in through the door and announcing their triumphant return.

But it never came.

Instead you were only met with silence, the only sounds that met your ears were those of people passing by in the hallway and someone occasionally popping their head in to say hello. Your face lit up every time, thinking maybe you’d get a glimpse of Peña’s smirk or Murphy’s soft smile; instead it was just another coworker whose name you didn’t know, or care to know.

By midday, you’d gotten the entire shared office space clean and organized, going so far as to even clean the dingy windows, and caught up on paperwork that you’d been avoiding for weeks.

But even after all that, you still had time to spare.

When you couldn’t take the deafening silence any longer, you stormed out of the much too quiet office and stormed into Ambassador’s Noonan’s office, not even bothering to knock, only throwing the door open as you walked to the front of her desk. She barely lifted her eyes from the papers splayed across her desk as you stood in front her, your arms crossed definitely over your chest.

“Agent L/N,” it was almost mocking, cold, and you could see she really wasn’t too keen on listening to any problem that you were about to present her with. There were days when you hated her, wishing you could jump over the desk dividing you and wringing sense into her; other days you were glad that she was around, knowing that no matter how harsh and stern she was, she had your backs...more or less.

“Murphy and Peña aren’t back yet,” you didn’t bother to waste time with formalities, deciding to lay the facts on her instead, “they were supposed to be back in the office today. I haven’t seen hide nor hair of them.”

“I’m well aware that they were supposed to be back,” she flicked her eyes up to meet yours for a moment before turning back to her papers, “and just what is the issue?”

“They’re missing!”

“No one is considered missing for at least forty-eight hours,” she explained as you openly groaned. You knew that. But they weren’t just any sort of civilians, they were DEA agents, and more importantly, your partners, your friends, “and they technically still have several hours left in the work day to return before the clock starts ticking.”

“You don’t understand -”

“No, you don’t understand, L/N,” she barked and slammed the papers down on her desk, causing you to jump back in surprise, “this is how things work sometimes. This is a dangerous field, there are risks involved and sometimes you just have to accept that. You have to be all in to do this job, and I expect that even a rookie such as yourself understands that.”

“I-...”

“I get you want to do the right thing and you’re concerned with the welfare of your partners, but you have to learn to get over these types of things,” you were rendered speechless, taking a step back at her harsh words. You knew this was a dangerous job, that going after Escobar was an almost certain deathwish, but you had still agreed to do it, and you still wanted to hold onto some sense of humanity, not just be a cold shell that went through the motions every day. Maybe that was the rookie part of you after all, “perhaps you’d do well to remember that Murphy and Peña are just your partners. Especially Peña; I am not immune to the rumors and follies that float around in this office. And if you can’t remember that, maybe you’d best start looking for another job.”

“With all due respect, Ambassador-”

“This conversation is over,” she didn’t bother to spare a final glance before gathering her papers back together, “come back and see me in a few days if they still aren’t back, and then we’ll take the next steps. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal,” you struggled to hold back your tears, feeling them prick at the back of your eyes as you rushed out of her office. You knew she was right, at least to a certain extent, but it didn’t make your current predicament any easier.

At this point you were sure that you couldn’t handle staying in the office any longer, so you grabbed your stuff and headed home, stopping by a corner market to pick up cheap wine to keep you company for the evening. It was better than being stuck all alone with only your thoughts after all; having flashes of Pena and Murphy somehow getting killed was starting to drive you crazy.

But despite your best efforts, nothing held your attention for long, which was precisely why you had resorted to watching programs in Spanish, trying your best to follow along with what they were saying. Spanish wasn’t your strong suit, you’d grasped the basics and then some, all the slang and curses of course (the latter part mostly thanks to Javier), and could hold a conversation well enough, but it was nothing compared to Javier’s natural fluency. Even if you looked like you might somehow actually belong in Columbia, your accent and lack of comprehension gave you away every time, as you stared at the person with your big wide doe eyes (that little comment was courtesy of Murphy). Javier enjoyed teasing you about it every time. You didn’t mind.

You sighed to yourself as you realized that you might never see him again. Your last interaction with him had hardly been a proper goodbye

“I can’t believe you told that witch to keep me away from this,” you glared at Javier as he started to gather supplies, Murphy closely following behind him. When he didn’t respond, you just shoved his chest, which quickly got his attention. He easily captured your wrists in his large hands and gave you a stern look, “you’re an asshole, Javi. Even Carrillo thinks I can handle myself just find out in the field.”

“I don’t give a shit what Carrillo thinks,” his voice was low, signaling the end of conversation as he released you from his strong grip. You looked over at Murphy, who was busy intently pretending not to be listening to your exchange. He was going to be of no help to you.

“Well I do,” you were just trying to get a rouse out of him; if he wasn’t going to let you come, you might as well annoy him, “Carrillo is a better everything than you could ever wish to be.”

“You think so, huh?” you’d gotten under skin, you could immediately tell by the way the muscles in his shoulders tensed, and the almost growl he adopted. You put your hands on your hips, eyebrow raised as you just nodded at him, “listen here, kid. This is dangerous. You think you know what to expect out there, you think you know what’s it like out there? You haven’t even seen a dead body, have you? You really think you could go out there and handle that?”

“This is my job-”

“You’re still green,” he insisted, “and this is not the time or place for you to suddenly decide to be the hero. I’m trying to protect you.”

“I don’t need you to protect me,” you insisted, the way his voice had softened with his last words not lost on you, “I can handle myself.”

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” he sighed heavily as he exchanged a look with Murphy, “you’re staying here and that is final. And if I hear even the slightest hint of you trying to weasel your way in from anyone else, I’ll have your ass on the first flight back to the States.”

“I’m insufferable?” you threw up your hands in exasperation at him. He was so thick skulled and stubborn sometimes, it drove you up the wall, “what about you, old man? Scared of what will happen if I get there and make you look bad?”

“I have it had it up to here-”

“Will the two of you just shut up already?” Murphy had finally had enough of the two bickering back and forth. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence by any means, no, the two of you were constantly up in arms. Sometimes it was over the who made the better shitty office coffee, his incessant chain smoking, your habit of wearing high heels, his use of informants. Everything. But the two of you were starting to get on his last nerve, which said enough considering that Murphy was a patient man.

“Steve-”

“Just stop arguing and fuck already,” he said and you immediately felt all the blood in your body flow to your face, sure you were just as flushed as you as deep red tomato. You didn’t dare look at Javier for fear of the expression on his face, “or do whatever you need to in order to stop getting at each other’s throats all the time. You’re worse than children.”

“Well, you’re both the worst,” it was the only thing retort you could come with after his little outburst. You kept your back turned to Javier as you stormed out of the storage locks without another word, “have fun or whatever. Don’t get shot, I guess.”

You cringed slightly at the memory, wishing it had gone slightly smoother than that. You seriously hoped that wasn’t the last interaction you’d have with either of them, especially Javier. You didn’t know what you would do if that was the last time you’d gotten to see him.

But you pushed the memories to the back of your mind as you felt the sweet lull of slumber finally start to win over, a loud, booming knock came at your door causing you to jump and almost fall off of the couch. You sighed heavily before collecting yourself and pausing to glance at the clock on the wall. It was nearing two in the morning - no one in their right mind should have been at your door. Your first thought was that it was someone coming after you, someone that had decided they had a vendetta against you, coming to make you pay for your sins.

Instinctively, you moved to the kitchen and grabbed your gun, holding it in front of you as you headed towards the door, alarmed by another loud knock. Putting your hand on the knob, you swallowed the lump that had worked its way into your throat. You were suddenly wide awake as the adrenaline rushed through your veins. After mentally counting to five, you yanked the door open, gun cocked and aimed at whoever had decided to come after you, ready to pull the trigger and stand your ground. Maybe you were green, but you were confident in the fact that you could hold your own if you suddenly had to.

Instead of an enemy, you found yourself face to face with none other than Javier Peña.

“Javi,” his nickname rolled off your lips in a quiet whisper as you met his warm brown eyes, your own already stinging and on the verge of spilling over with tears. You felt like you could breathe again, waves of relief crashing down on you as you realized he was alive. But at a price. He looked tired, very tired, and worn out, his hair a mess and his clothes looking in need of a wash, much like the rest of his sweaty body. But he was alive, and that was the operative fact, and the only fact you cared about in that moment.

“Were you going to shoot me, kid?” he asked, his deep velvety voice reached your ears and causing your stomach to flutter slightly. He looked between you and your still outstretched hand before grabbing the gun, removing the cartridge of bullets, and tossing it to the side where it clanged to the ground with a loud metallic clang. He studied you silently, almost in a challenging way, trying to see which one of you would break down first. He was the one that had showed up on your doorstep after all.

But it wasn’t going to be you because you weren’t able to find any words. Instead you were frozen in time, your body humming with content as you realized that all of your worry had been for nothing. He was okay, he was alive, and he was currently mere inches away from you; you could feel his body heat radiating onto yours, his natural musk invading every bit of your senses.

You had missed him more than you thought, for reasons that were known to you, but you would never speak out loud. You didn’t want to hear the words ever come out of your mouth because that would mean that they were true, that your feelings for Javi were more than just those of friends and partners. That your feelings were those that made it seem like he was the reason for all the glittering stars in the night sky, that he was your morning sunshine after a dark night of rain.

But Javier didn’t need you to say anything.

It all happened fast; so fast that you didn’t even have a chance to process what was going on before he put his hands on either side of your face and crashing his lips onto yours. It was needy, fast, bruising, and everything you hadn’t realized you’d been waiting for. After reality hit you like a train, you responded by throwing your arms around his neck, carding a hand through the hair at the nape of his neck as his rough hands found your waist, his fingers quickly finding their way under the hem of your shirt and brushing along the soft skin.

It was hard and fast, the two of you expressing your desires without the use of words, only pulling apart when you needed a breath of air. You looked up at him and found him staring back at you, his eyes expressing an emotion you couldn’t quite place. It was intense, frightening, and most of all hungry. He was the hunter and you were his prey.

“Y/N,” Javi’s voice was barely above a whisper as he kissed you a few more times, eventually finding your jaw and working his way down your neck. It took everything in your power not to moan out loud at his touch, at the feel of his lips on your delicate flesh, and you bit your lip as you kept your arms around his neck. But before you could let it go any further, something snapped inside you and you came to your senses and put your hands on his chest, a silent plea for him to stop. As much as you wanted him to continue, to somehow have it end up in your bedroom, with you under him as he gave you what you had been desperately wanting, you knew you shouldn’t. He was your partner, your friend, and on top of all of that, he was older and he had a reputation.

It was a reputation he had earned for a reason, and that was enough for you to stop whatever might transpire before it got any further.

“Javi,” you said as he pulled back from you, looking at you with concern written all over his face. You shook your head and took a step back from him, already saddened by the loss of his body against yours, “we...we shouldn’t do this. We can’t do this.”

You pointed between your bodies, biting your lip in a way that drove him crazy, not that he would ever admit that, and sighed. Sometimes your rationalism got the best of you, and you wished you could just throw it out the window. How you wished you could just have him then and there, to feel him all over your body.

“Why?” he asked quietly as he put a hand on your cheek before ghosting his fingers over the contours of your face, and he wondered, momentarily, why he’d waited so long to touch your soft skin. Part if you wished you had let him continue, but the rational part of your brain told you that you’d done the right thing, “I thought...we...that there was something there? Between us.”

“We can’t,” you just repeated softly, “we’re friends...partners...this can only end in two ways, and neither of them are good.”

“Give me a good reason. Just one good reason,” he insisted and you knew he had a valid point, but you also both knew what you were trying to say, “tell me you don’t want this. Tell me I’ve been wrong in thinking that there was something between us this whole time. Tell me I’m wrong. And if you don’t want this, it stops here and I’ll walk away.

You looked at him silently for a few moments, his eyes pleading with yours, rendering you unable to form a coherent thought; you wanted to tell him that he was right, but all you could see was looming heartbreak on the horizon, and you weren’t about to willingly put yourself through torture for nothing. Not with him or anyone else.

Every other relationship you had had blown up into a million pieces in front of your very eyes. You weren’t able to subject yourself to that again, no matter how much you longed for him, no matter how many nights you spent alone in bed, thinking of him, wishing he was there with you. You finally, painstakingly, met his eyes, giving him a small grimace before shrugging your shoulders, “I...I don’t want this.”

A lie. A bold lie you both could easily see through.

“Okay,” he took a step back, shaking his head at you as he tried to keep himself in check. He wanted to yell, to scream, to cry, something - anything. But instead, he moved silently towards the door, stepping through it without so much as another look at you, slamming it shut behind him. You winced slightly at the loud sound before slumping back down onto the couch. You gave the wine bottle a pathetic look, wishing you had more so you could block the events that had just transpired.

Either you had just made the wisest decision of all, or you had possibly made the biggest mistake.

It was a fine line between the two.

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#javier pena #javier pena x reader #javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier pena x you #narcos #narcos fanfic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #disappear here series #steve murphy

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dragonrajafanfiction · 3 years

Text

The Cage

Somewhere just outside the Mexico Border

It is a rusty metal warehouse in the desert in front of which is a vast gravel parking lot filled with trucks left running with the high beams on. Kingpins as well as landowners wearing button down shirts and jeans file past burly looking men in muscle shirts, flashing their credentials. A short man had his arm around the waist of a model as he flashed his. “She’s with me.” He said of the model who kissed him on his balding head.

There is no visible security. This area is an agreed neutral zone, a privileged spot where the turf wars and smuggling routes could be forgotten in favor of sport and fun, and yet was not a haven where these criminal masterminds would ever admit existed to their families. It was protected by both a silent agreement of non-violence, and the fact that it was every low level drug dealer’s dream to be here.

The Warehouse is a fighting arena that only opens once a year and sends out invitations to its exclusive clientele. Even these Kingpins saved up money to come and bet on the fighters here and there was no limit to their wagers. It was not unheard of for millions and even a billion to be lost in a single match. Land was negotiated here. Trade routes were negotiated here. The existence of entire gangs were negotiated here. War and peace between violent factions were negotiated here.

People in the small border towns had a feeling that the government and the police weren’t really what changed the situation on their street. But they could never guess that what did change things was the winner of a match in an arena in the middle of nowhere.

As for the fighters themselves, no one knew where they came from. They had names like Cobra, Diablo, Demonio, and La Muerte. Their identities were a mystery. But their appearances seemed to suggest that they came from all over the world. Those who had the privilege of coming here, would whisper about these fights, saying that the fighters seemed like animals, something beyond human, or like monsters. They would compare them to famous action heroes like ‘The Hulk’ or ‘Superman.’ While it was true that regular MMA fighters could do amazing things, they were limited by their humanity.

These fighters… they didn’t stop fighting, even if they were gasping out their last breath.

Francisco Pererra had somehow stumbled on one of those fighters. He was just appointed as head of a cartel in Aguascalientes and had come upon a small fortune in the form of a free and open water route up through Corpus Christi. It wasn’t just the route, but also his method, using a combination of decoy boats and submarines to constantly distract the meager Coast Guard and keep them away from the actual cargo -- fentanyl and cocaine. He’d gotten rich very quickly, but before he spent on anything else, he wanted to spend on this gambling ring. This was his debut on the world stage.

When he was approached by a young man in his private residence, introducing himself as a fighter, he thought it was too good to be true. The owners of those who fought were the upper of the upper class. He was doing well as a startup Surely, this man wanted something.

“I just need entry into the Arena. The rest does not concern you and it's best you not get involved any further.” The young man opened three large briefcases. “This should be more than enough to cover the entry fee, plus compensation for your cooperation.” The young man was stiff but polite and spoke fluent Spanish with an American accent.

“Is this a bust? I won’t be responsible for it…” He shook his head. “I won’t live very long if I am responsible for something like that.”

“I have nothing to do with any government or law enforcement.”

Francisco Pererra did not believe him. He smiled and said, “Oh of course and of course.”

As the young man was leaving, Francisco pointed a pistol at the back of his head. Before he could pull the trigger however, the gun glowed red hot and exploded in his hand, taking off two of his fingers. When the young man looked back at him, his eyes were glowing gold.

He calmly helped Francisco collect his severed fingers and put them in ice and drove him to the nearest hospital for reattachment surgery. When the nurses asked what happened, Franciso just said he had an accident with a firework.

That young man was no law enforcer. He was a true Demon Fighter.

Now Francisco Perrera came in, not from the front, but from the back. Wheeled horse trailers backed into a garage door and ramps were brought to them as they opened. Wheeled cages meant to house zoo animals rolled down the ramps and attached to a four-wheeler. Each cage was covered with a double layer of black fabric. Francisco’s champion was in one of those cages, but once they were in the arena, there could be no further contact between the sponsor and the fighter.

Francisco presented his entry fee in the suitcases on a cheap white plastic fold out table. Large men with assault rifles stepped forward and took the suitcases while Francisco waited. They were counting the money. He cleared his throat of dust and stood there, watching as one especially huge cage was rolled off the trailer. It was so heavy that it bent the ramp.

“Perrera!”

Francisco turned around, his heart rate jumping.

“Your entry fee is sufficient.”

Feeling validated, Francisco straightened his tie and tipped his cowboy hat and made his way to the VIP stands through a white door in the sheathing wall. The whole area smelled of alcohol and smoke. A group of big shots looked up from their game of cards. He gave them a proud greeting. “Good evening, I’m…”

They all turned their backs on him and continued their game. He let out a breath. Of course, they wouldn’t humor his attention. He was a newcomer after all. But maybe, with this fighter, he might actually get on their radar. Securing a treaty with a larger cartel had its risks and benefits, much like gambling but if you hit the jackpot you were set for life.

He sat down in a cracking folding chair. The arena was huge. Built for rodeos, it was temporarily reconfigured to house what could only be described as a gladiatorial contest. Bullet proof glass protected him from the rest of the lower level seats. And a double layer fence that stretched all the way to the roof protected the rest of the guests from the contestants themselves.

“Welcome Mr. Perrera.” A sweet young female voice greeted him and lowered a shot glass with a bottle of black label tequila in front of him. She was dressed in a tight red shiny vinyl dress. Her black hair spilled over her shoulders, looking quietly seductive. “Good luck on your first entrant.”

“Because you are a newcomer, you should be lower on the ranks, however, many in the crowd have thrown welcome money in the pot in your support.”

“Oh really?” Francisco had good instincts and didn’t rush to sip on the tequila. “Sit and drink with me. Tell me more about this.”

She obliged and he took his glass and poured a cup for her and handed it to her. She gave a knowing chuckle. “You really are new. All the death and violence is restricted to the Cage. But if you’re still nervous…” She tossed back the tequila and then slid the cup back to him.

“One can never be too careful. If I disappear it's not a big thing, no matter where I am.”

“It’s rare to get a new fighter and a newcomer. People are betting on you because they’re excited and want to encourage more fresh blood. No one wants to see the same fighters every year from the same people they’ve known for years. What’s more… the name of your fighter… they like it.” Her lips turned up. “Caimán!”

“I had heard these fighters had the look of a devil, but I found out this was… something more grounded than I realized. The first thing I thought when I looked at him was ‘Caimán!’ He looks at me like an alligator! He’s not some boogeyman. He looked like he could actually eat me.”

She didn’t leave his side as the PA system announced that the matches were going to begin. She slid a paper roster to him. “This is the line up.”

Caimán was going to be up against ‘Gigante’ in the first match! For the first time, Francisco felt upset to be here. How could they put a newbie up in the first match in an elimination contest and give him a chance to win? Even in the case of a champion, such fights were exhausting. He would have to defeat everyone of the beasts in the ring to have a shot at winning.

He stilled his expression and looked over the arena. Well, of course he wouldn’t have a chance at winning. The truth is, he shouldn’t be here at all. He was here on a stroke of luck. Winning was not in the cards for him. He should just enjoy his time and make the most of his good fortune. It was a shame this young man had to sacrifice his life. Despite his crocodile look, he had kindly expressed regret about the gun blowing up in his hand. He’d personally and quickly driven him to the hospital and then paid the bill. He even left him a wound care spreadsheet after the nurses forgot. It wasn’t the behavior of a tough as nails fighter or an alligator. More like a neglectful son come home to bother his father again. Much like he was once, years ago. Perhaps why he had taken a liking to him so quickly?

A roar interrupted his reverie. A roll up metal garage door clattered open and a giant of a man nearly eight feet tall of pure muscle, painted near black with tattoos, ran out, howling like a vicious animal. The crowd screamed and banged on the lids of garbage cans. The noise was deafening. The man clapped his hands over his ears and rushed the chains. Bright sparks like the sun snapped and popped.

The Cage was electrified!

Francisco reflexively crossed himself as the man didn’t react at all to the electrical current. When he let go of the fence, his hands were smoking. He rushed to the other side to menace the other spectators. Francisco saw it. The golden eyes!

Gigante suddenly stopped and turned. Another metal cage door was opening. Francisco could scarcely contain his grin! He pulled a napkin from his shirt and wiped his sweaty face.

Caimán was acting true to his name. He was slight in figure, hilariously shorter than Gigante. Despite the heat and humidity in the air and the dusty dirty surroundings, he wore a black Burburry trench coat that reached near the floor. In his hand was a long sword that shined with a blue tinged light even though it wasn’t dark inside the arena. Weapons were allowed in the arena so long as they weren’t heavy firearms. Especially given the size difference of these contestants, having a bit of an equalizer was viewed as permissible. He took two steps into the arena with the air of a mother who had caught her children doing something naughty.

Gigante and Caimán faced each other. Gigante was panting, his mouth running with drool, his eyes bloodshot. He looked rabid, but didn’t rush towards his much smaller opponent and rip him in two. The crowd murmured with the suspense of the wait. Francisco felt the hairs rise on his back. He didn’t know why he got this feeling, but the thought came into his head that Gigante was being suppressed, that the whole crowd was being suppressed! It was like a pall had been cast over the entire crowd. Everyone was afraid to move, afraid to breathe, weighted down by a strange fear they didn’t understand.

Caimán walked around the edge of the Cage taking the longest route to his opponent, strolling with a slow, measured gait. He took his time, looking Gigante up and down.

“What is going on?” The woman next to him was shocked. “Gigante never acts like this.”

Her kind welcoming demeanor had vanished, she now glared at Francisco fiercely.

Francisco sipped his tequila. “Ah… so Gigante is yours. No wonder you wanted to talk to me!”

She sat back and crossed her arms over her chest. Had this been any other place, she would have drawn a pistol and shot him in his smugly smiling face. Her nervousness grew as Caimán approached a still and silent Gigante. “Where did you find him?”

Francisco was silent. His intent was to use this opportunity to gain advantage for his business. The fighter had his own agenda beyond him and he shouldn’t be involved any further. This young man had walked into a room full of the highest ranking cartel members and had taken ownership of the entire space.

Gigante chuckled. “So… you’re finally here to put us out of our misery?”

Caimán didn’t answer for a long time. The crowd was getting restless in the silence, but that terrifying aura prevented anyone from speaking. “It’s my intent to free you.”

“Free? No one ever… gets free.”

When Gigante raised himself to his full height, Caimán raised his blade and that aura became more intense. He pointed it at him, like a knight facing off against an ogre. “Don’t.”

Gigante leaned back a bit as though struck by a strong wind.

“How are they controlling you? Answer.”

Gigante looked at Caimán, his eyes suddenly stopped glowing. “Get out… Get out while you c-”

A tattoo that hadn’t appeared before suddenly flashed red in the shape of an eye, right on his forehead, and the glow of his eyes lit up again. All humanity in those eyes froze, his pupils dilated wide until they became black save an eclipse ring of gold. Caimán for the first time in the match showed a touch of emotion, his eyes widening slightly as his Aura suddenly collapsed.

Gigante took a strong leap and closed the distance between them. Caimán reacted with a powerful thrust that slid the metal blade between the bones of the giant’s large knee. That leg was rendered useless in an instant but Gigante did not so much as flinch or cry out in pain. His arm whipped around and seized Caiman around the throat. That blade flashed again, neatly severing the hand. He didn’t have a choice. If he had waited more than that instant his windpipe would have been crushed. He rolled and staggered away from Gigante’s remaining fist. It slammed into the ground with skull-crushing force.

The crowd regained its former noise, cheering “Gigante! Gigante!”

At his tiny size and miniature build, one would think that they would have cheered Caimán as the underdog, but Caimán had walked in like a tyrant, barking orders like he owned the place. He’d humiliated not only Gigante but also all the spectators who were all predators in their own right and had been forced into silence by this newcomer. The sight of him fleeing Gigante was galvanizing. They wanted Gigante to smash this newcomer into a pulp!

Gigante was faster than a man his size should have been, it was like an ancient giant wolf, running his opponent down and forcing him to retreat or die. Even though he was running with blood, lame in one leg an missing a hand, he grinned and licked his lips in an intense desire to kill. Caimán however danced around every attack, not returning a blow if he didn’t have to.

Francisco was confused. Why didn’t Caimán go in for the kill? He had more fights after this. Why waste so much energy running his opponent around the ring? His female companion was only annoyed with Gigante. “Hit him! Hit him you bastard!”

He then noticed her ring. It was red and glowing.

The eye appeared on Gigante’s head again and the man suddenly screeched in a high voice. Caimán closed the distance and split the skin of the man’s forehead right through the middle.

The man’s eyes suddenly rolled back and he sank to his one knee. He went from a massive intimidating fighter to a hunk of empty flesh in an instant. Caimán who was still anticipating another motion suddenly lowered his sword and rushed forward, putting his fingers on the man’s neck. But there was no need to check his pulse. Gigante was dead.

The woman banged her fist on the table and stood up. “Spy! He’s a spy!”

Guns were suddenly pointed at Francisco. “Why are you saying this? You’re just angry that you lost! Put those guns away, this place is a place of non-violence!”

Her eyes turned cold. “You have no idea. You don't know anything.”

“He’s right.” Another voice came from the table to his right. An old man in a suit sat one leg crossed over the other, his white hair long down his back, his dark eyes like empty holes in his face. “Put the guns away. No need.”

The guns were put away and hackles lowered.

Caimán stepped away as a worker arrived with a forklift to carry Gigante’s body away.

“Perrera. I will buy this fighter from you. Name your price.” The old man said.

Francisco didn’t know what to say. The truth is the fighter didn’t belong to him, it was the other way around. The fighter had bought him with the intent to enter the fight for his own agenda.

“My price? You know I have a route, sir. I would like your protection on that route. Your protection of my assets. I am a small operation. Even with a lot of money, I can’t buy what you already have.”

“You are a very smart man! That humility has brought you here. Then… Welcome to the club, Pererra.” The old man raised his hand and again, he was wearing one of those rings, just like the woman. He waved his hand twice and Caimán’s reaction was instant. He clutched his head and fell on his knees.

“Oh… he is a strong one.” The old man continued to wave and stood up, walking up to the bullet proof glass. “He will make excellent food for my Tigre.”

Caimán turned his head, his golden eyes blazing, he started to speak, snarling like an animal. That voice generated dark waves of black heat that ignited the sawdust. The heat was enough to melt the chain links on the Cage. The heat was so intense that the spectators started screaming and fleeing. Even at this distance, all the people in the VIP area started backing away.

The saw dust arena had turned into a pit of flames but Caiman was kneeling in all of it. Clutching his head.

Francisco had no choice. He turned and ran from the arena, leaving him behind.

#Dragon Raja

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