#Richard never gives me any problems

[thebibliosphere]

Sometimes I boot Gotham Knights just to enjoy the background ambience of Gotham at night while I'm doing other stuff. It's nice hearing the occasional quip from an NPC as something happens down on the streets below, paired with the gentle drumming of the incessant rain. If you scale up high enough, all you'll hear is the rain and the gentle thrum of the city. It's quite meditative in a way.

Sometimes, I leave it running and forget it's the game and not a similar ambient sound on YouTube. I don't even think to check sometimes. I just leave my word processor in fullscreen mode and go about my tasks like a Roomba bumping into things and wandering off to do others.

All of this is to say I just about pissed myself when, after forty minutes of uninterrupted writing and listening to what I thought was YouTube, I went down into the dimly lit basement to do laundry with my noise-canceling headset on, only to get halfway through loading the washer when I heard the dulcet, expressive tones of Jason Todd sighing directly into my ear like gravel sliding over sheet metal.

When I tell you, the scream I screamt. Hgjkgolwmeoihgksdjvmn

Like I'm so sorry, Mister Todd. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to leave you up there in the rain, but also CAN YOU NOT?!

[faeriekit]

Out on a Limb

phic phight prompt is from @bibliophilea

warnings for: lighthearted body horror, limb loss, limb...uh...movin' around

*~💚💚💚~*

When Danny said he could lend a hand, he didn't quite mean like this.

“UH,” said Tucker.

“UH,” said Danny.

Both of them watched his disembodied hand flop around on the shop class floor. It was kind of like watching a dead fish die, but…worse. Since. You know. It was Danny’s hand.

“I’m telling Mr. Richards,” Tucker declared, voice high and loud—and it took two tries to cover Tucker’s mouth his hand, because Danny had automatically reached out with his right but that was on the floor, and—look! It was fine! It was fine and no one needed to know!

“Tucker you can’t tell anyone,” Danny hissed, immediately, unable to draw Tucker closer to threaten him and silence him simultaneously so Danny might have been a little more under stress than usual. “Tucker, my hand’s not bleeding. Just…just put it back on!”

“What do you mean, put it back on?!” Tucker hissed, looking like he was about to cry. Danny felt so bad but also that was his hand! “Danny, what do you mean?!”

“It’ll work!” Danny lied as quietly as he could, casting wary glances around the shop. So far no one was looking at them, even though their table saw had gone quiet. Everyone else was carefully cutting wooden planks, as oblivious as they could be in their giant orange earmuffs. And, so maybe Danny wasn’t sure if this would work! But! They had to try! “Just stick it on!”

“You want me to touch your decapitated hand?!”

“Is there a problem, gentlemen?” a voice asked from behind their assigned shop station.

Tucker and Danny froze.

Mr. Richards, an old man who taught shop class and wore exclusively plaid flannel, raised a grey eyebrow.

“…No,” Danny and Tucker lied simultaneously, if perhaps a little offbeat from each other. Danny quickly hid his remarkably raw stump behind his back.

The other eyebrow rose. “In that case, shall we get back to the task at hand? Those planks won’t size themselves, you know.”

Danny and Tucker mumbled something suitably contrite. Tucker wasn’t able to tear his too-wide eyes away from the flopping, writhing, finger-curling hand on the dirty shop floor—

And Danny ‘casually’ dropped a flat shop pencil onto the floor, giving Tucker the excuse to go get the thing. Tucker ducked down without a word.

Mr. Richards crossed his arms. Clicked his tongue. “I thought you of all kids would know to be careful in a workroom, Fenton. It’ll pay to be more careful; you never know if a machine will take something off while you’re not paying attention.”

“Yessir,” Danny squeaked, and shoved down the terrified laughter clawing away at his insides. It was only hysteria.

Something cold and wet slapped itself onto Danny’s stump. Danny flinched.

“Do you have your planks ready?”

Danny swallowed. Tucker stood, looking only slightly more traumatized than he had been when the hand first decided to make its grand departure from the rest of Danny’s body. “…Uh huh.”

“Good. Load them up onto the table for me, then. Show me your guide lines.”

Danny lifted and laid the planks with a shaking hand. Mr. Richards’ expression indicated how little he thought of that.

“Both hands.”

…Danny lifted a hand onto the board.

Mr. Richards stared. Tucker chewed on his lip.

…Danny lifted a second, twitching hand onto the board—hey, his hand?? Was back on?? Thank God for Tucker Foley.

But his hand was definitely not okay; even with the machine on, Danny had to jerk his writhing hand away from the serrated blade more than once. It looked, uh, bad. His hand looked bad. Grey. Taut. Kind of like it was seizing, or, you know…dying of blood loss.

“Fenton…” His shop teacher stared. “...Go to the nurse’s office.”

Tucker grinned with all his teeth, and grabbed Danny’s good hand before Danny could say anything in one way or another. “Great! I’ll walk him. Come on, Danny—if you’re not feeling well, we should go!”

Any excuse was a good excuse. “Yeah, oops. Sorry.” Danny didn’t stop making excuses for himself just in case, even as Tucker veritably shoved him through the shop class door. “Didn’t even notice I was getting muscle spasms; I should probably go get medication for it—“

Neither of them stopped moving until the door was slammed shut behind them.

Danny stared down at his writhing, if…properly attached hand. He tried to stretch his fingers.

The only wriggled worse. It felt like trying to attack worms his hands…only. You know. His worms were the hands. Or. Uh. His hands were the worms.

…Danny needed some water and 600 mg. ibuprofen. Stat.

“I,” Tucker started. And then he stopped. “I am never trusting your intangibility ever again.”

Danny stared at his self-possessed, wriggling hand. “Yeah, probably,” he agreed faintly.

[igotanidea]

Single parent struggles : father!Dick Grayson x mother!reader

THAT!!! PICTURE!!!!!

summary/request: single Father Dick Grayson x single Mother reader? Where at some kids birthday party also can the kids be between the ages of like 3 and 4.

A/N: writing this was just so cute and heartwarming and pleasant and fluffy. I think this is going to be my new verse, so if anyone ever get any ideas in that - please ask me to write more UwU <3

***

„Thomas, please stop running around!” Y/N laughed happily when her 4 year old son slipped on the floor and run into her legs. She was quick enough to catch him, before he actually landed on his bottom and started crying.

“Sorry mum!” he grinned with the cutest smile there was, and not paying much attention to his mother’s admonishment regained his balance and followed the friends that he was chasing. “Wait for me!” he yelled before disappearing.

Her son was invited to a birthday party of his kindergarten friend, and obviously, she happened to be a tag along. Helping with the service and acting as a supervisor.  Not that  she complained. Being a single parent was rewarding, but also happened to be her bread and butter and she didn’t have many occasion to go out the house and spend time with actual adult outside of work. Sure, she loved Thomas with all her heart and never regretted the decision of having him, even when his failure of a father took off running the second he found out about the pregnancy, but sometimes she was just tired. And having an opportunity to hang out and relax and watch her son being so happy around other kids were simply heartwarming. Thomas shed too many tears and experienced sadness asking about the other parent and Y/N swore, that to the maximum of her  abilities, she would protect him from that pain.

“God….” she muttered to herself, gathering the fruit bowl from the counter. “I swear the kids never get tired……” her son’s energy was exhausting, but the serene expression in her eyes were showing the truth feelings behind the sigh. Lost in her own thoughts Y/N turned around not noticing the man standing right behind her, bumping straight into the sculpted chest, immediately being caught by two strong arms, the bowl serving as some sort of airbag.

“I know, right?” the man let out a laugh still holding onto her “I’m dealing with the same problem with my daughter. Don’t know who said that girls are quieter and more polite than boys but it does not apply in this case.”

“Hello Richard.” Y/N tilted her head “didn’t see you around for a while.”

Richard Grayson, more often than not called “Dick” was the treat for all the mothers. Handsome, well-build, kind with charming, boyish attitude and most importantly, single father. Rumor has it that the mother had some mental problems and one day escaped the hospital where she and the daughter were getting some treatment and observation, took the kid and left it on the threshold of Dick’s house before disappearing herself. Despite Dick’s attempt to locate her (and boy, that man definitely had the resources, being the son of the Bruce Wayne) he never succeeded, giving up after some time.

And that gave the soccer mothers plenty of opportunities to get him involved in all possible kids’ activities. Kindergarten play? Picnic? Cinema sally? Birthday party? He was pretty much everywhere. Much to all the husbands’ displeasure.

But, since both he and Y/N were the only single parent and  the subjects of many rumors that gave them the opportunity to get close and become really good friends. After all, there’s no one better to understand the struggles of raising a kid alone.

“Yeah….” He scratched his head awkwardly, letting go of her arm “I’ve been running after Abby, making sure she does not get in any troubles. But it seems like the fire is fought for a moment and I can finally catch a breath. “

“Really?” Y/N mocked putting the bowl away, crossing arms over her chest “guess the apple does not fall far from the tree, right? Abby takes a lot after you.”

“Are you calling me a troublemaker?” Dick caught his chest and his eyes widened in a fake shock. “Me?”

“Yes.” She teased “Aren’t you?”

“Maybe a bit” he muttered taking a step forward. This made Y/N take a step back and in no time she was trapped between the kitchen counter and his body. “But there’s one more thing me and Abby have in common.”

“And what may that be, Mr. Grayson?” she raised an eyebrow, observing his face carefully and impatiently awaiting the answer.

“We both happen to like the member of the l/n family.” He smirked, grabbing her waist and pulling her towards him closing the distance between them.  Her hands found a way towards his neck, locking around it and bringing his lips down for a kiss. It’s been a while since they had any opportunity to be alone, and they were not going to miss it. Even if that meant making out in a messy kitchen in someone else’s house, hiding from their kids. They were acting like teenagers, sneaking around and trying to keep their relationship a secret. And despite the fact that they were both adults this courtship was gentle, careful, soft. They have been hurt before and the cautiousness was making them both take it slow.

But obviously it didn’t mean that there was no passion between them when Dick grabbed onto her tighter, wanting her closer, his hands travelling around her back, sneaking under her shirt, craving to feel her skin, but still keeping the slow, loving pace.

“Behave….” She mumbled into the kiss, but not really stopping him. “Someone can see us…..”

“Oh, please…” he fought the urge to roll his eyes, moving to brush her cheek, jaw and neck in the teasing attempt to make her whine for him  “you can’t keep your hands to yourself either.” The bastard was right since her fingers were playing with his hair, pulling lightly.

“I can stop….” She started withdrawing her hands but he was quick to grab her wrist keeping it in place.

“Don’t.” his soft whispers and touches were literally making her melt. “I missed you, Y/n. I missed this…. us……” God, how she loved his attention, even when he pulled back and stopped kissing her, instead looking her straight in the eyes. “I .... wish to have more of you just for myself…..”

“I know. I feel the same.”  She smiled and her eyes glistened. Before she met him, after Thomas’s father left, she didn’t believe she could find love again. But life can be surprising and even if they haven’t really said the L word to each other,now she was trapped in the arms of a man who did love her with the undying passion and with whom she felt save and taken care of us as never before. And every time they stole a kiss or a secret touch or just talked or spent time together she felt like crying because of that warm feeling inside her chest and belly. This time was no different as  few tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Crying again?” Dick cupped her face, brushing those drops away with his thumb “don’t cry on my account princess.” He brushed his nose over hers, forehead meeting forehead, eyes closing, breathing each other in.

“How can I not?” she sighed deeply, unable to hold back everything he was making her feel. “Dick, I….”

“I know, baby. Trust me, I know.” he planted a chaste kiss on her forehead, rocking her gently to the sound of music coming from the garden causing her to smile again.  

He knew.

He knew the heartbreak, the pain, the unanswered question why. He’s been through it all. And it was not his intention to play around with Y/n’s emotions and feelings or to hurt her. Ever. Not with everything she’s been through.

“I’m not like him…..” he whispered, almost inaudibly and she had to swallow the lump in her throat.

“How long do you think since one of the mums start looking for you to move the chairs or ask for another stupid favor?”

“Y/N Y/L/N. Are you jealous?”

“And what if I am?” she twirled a strand of hair on her finger, eyes fixed on his.

“Well, than I’m flattered, but you have no reason for that, baby.” His hands intertwined with hers, caressing tenderly “I lo…..” he almost said it. Almost.

“Daddy?” a quiet, girl’s voice cut him off and it took massive amount of energy to muffle the annoyed groan. Of course it was kids who interrupted him.

“Yes, sweetheart?” he pulled back

“I cut my finger….” Abby pouted, her gaze switching between her father and Y/N. “what are you doing?”

“We were just getting some fruits for you.” the older girl smiled “I’m gonna go and let your father take care of you, little one. See you around, Richard.” She moved away from him and with one final lingering secret brush of hands left him, still aching for her, not able to ever get enough of her presence.

“Daddy?” Abby asked again once Y/N was out of sight.

“Yes?”

“Do you like Thomas’s mum?”

“Do you?”

“She’s nice and pretty. And gives the best hugs. “ the girl frowned, thinking deeply “so yes, I think I like her.”

“That’s good to know.” Dick smiled pecking the top of Abby’s head.  He was not going to let this woman out of his life and his daughter’s acceptance was very important for the future purposes.

[moorishflower]

Oh my brain is running away with me, think about Pirate Hob first meeting siren Dream - think about how Dream wakes up and attacks and drags Hob into the sea, and Hob is already immortal, AND a pirate, so he has taken his time to learn how to dive, you know, he can hold his breath for a long time, and they grapple and fight and Dream rips his throat out and drags him into his cave to eat slowly, but Hob wakes up again and Dream is just. Confused? Delighted at a ressurecting meal? Something to keep? Or will he let Hob escape but visit every night at his ship, until Hob gets to finally catch him in his net?

Idk I just want to know how these two hook up

asdhgds okay so my rough timeline is:

1389: Hob Gadling challenges Death to a game of cards. He cheats OUTRAGEOUSLY, and Death is so charmed by this dumb bandit that she grants him immortality, though she calls it a curse, and not a blessing

1390: the Age of Discovery is in full swing, and instead of selling his sword arm to this Richard or that Henry, Hob takes to the sea instead, and for a time gets a reputation as being extremely lucky. Mortal wounds fail to kill him, no infection ever takes hold in him, and he's hale and hearty no matter how long he spends at sea

1399: Hob makes the mistake of staying on with one crew for too long, and he's marooned on a tiny island some 300 miles from Plymouth because the crew figure if he can't be stabbed and he can't be strangled then maybe just. leave him out to sea and maybe that'll do it?

1400 - 1650ish: Hob spends the next several centuries slowly courting the attentions of a weird sea creature that he falls outrageously and instantly in love with

It's been ten years since Hob Gadling challenged the pretty, dark-haired stranger in the tavern to a friendly game of cards. Ten years to the day, he thinks, though of a necessity, of recent, he hasn't been tracking the hours with quite as much accuracy as he has in the past. Ten years since he'd laid down a nine of Hounds that he'd secreted up his sleeve and confidently declared himself a winner. Ten years since the audacity of his cheating had made Death herself laugh until she grew hoarse from it.

This won't be a blessing to you, she'd said. Humans aren't meant for eternity. Their minds aren't wired for it. It does queer things to their souls.

He'd wanted it anyways. You say that someday, if I wait for it long enough, we'll sail the stars the same way we sail the sea, he'd said in response. I want to see that. I want to dip my hand into the heavens.

He'd accepted immortality with open arms, and damn the consequences, and Death had smiled at him, an odd little twist to her lips that Hob only now recognizes, with the gift of hindsight, as pity, and she'd patted him gently on the hand.

And now the consequences come to damn him right back.

It has been ten years since Hob cheated Death, and it has been three days since his crew marooned him on this sun-blasted ocean strand, and Hob feels quite strongly that, somewhere along the way, he has perhaps made a mistake. Lingered too long, perhaps. Grew too complacent. The immortality was never the problem, by his reckoning, only that he stayed in one place overlong, and assumed that old friendships would survive the revelation that Robert Gadling had ceased to age, the knowledge that the few lines of silver threaded at his temples were the only wealth that Time, the old bastard, would ever bestow upon him.

So now he lies upon the sand beneath the baking noonday sun, so close to England that he might spit upon it if he only had any liquid left in him, and yet so far away that it might as well be hung in the sky alongside the moon. He knows precisely where he is. He knows the shipping lanes exactly, and how none of them intersect with where he's been left. When night comes, he stares up into the sky and marks the position of Polaris with a breathless ache in his breast.

Only a hundred leagues from London, give or take, and he's finally going to learn if he dies of thirst like any other poor sinner.

The weaker he feels, the more tempting the ocean becomes. The glass blue expanse of it a drink that cannot pass his lips, the sultry, cool depths a balm to sunburned skin. If he crawled into the sea, he thinks it'd be a kinder end than baking himself to death on the sand like a beached whale.

The thought hooks into him, and does not let go. The sun crawls below the horizon, inch by inch, and when the last of its light bleeds away, and the stars peek their winking eyes beyond the shadowy skirts of night, the chill of the night air fills him with a new invigoration, and Hob pushes himself to standing.

He has been stabbed, and clubbed, and strangled in the past ten years, and it has all hurt, but none of it has stuck. Mortal wounds have miraculously healed. He never seems to run out of blood.

Drowning, he thinks, will be a new experience, and there is some part of that that cheers him. After all it, was new experiences that drove him to cheat Death.

Humming tunelessly to himself, Hob wobbles down to the edge of the water, and looks at it for a time, and shrugs.

He keeps walking.

He walks into the sea and lets it take him.

Surprisingly, he wakes up.

He wakes up to pain.

There is a deep and uncomfortable throbbing radiating from his inner thigh; all of him is cold and wet, so numb he can't even shiver, and his eyes are having trouble focusing. Or perhaps it's only that it's dark, a tenebrous pitch so thick it seems a texture, and spotted all throughout with hundreds of glittering stars.

Stars.

"Fuck," he says, and hears, somewhere in that darkness, somewhere close, a chittering, clicking noise like a startled animal, and the pain at his thigh eases, but does not cease. The spotted field of starlight vanishes, and Hob's eyes begin to adjust to the velvet darkness, and right as he thinks he's got a handle on things, his eyes picking out a vague and huddled shape, the entire area floods with multicolored light. It's blinding. It's beautiful.

The thing in the light is beautiful. A vibrant, oceanic shape, roiling and tempestuous as the sea; he catches a glimpse of skin as pale as fresh milk, the outline of a face as sharply-cut as though it were hewn from marble, and the busy movement of uncountable limbs, twitching and grasping, indigo-blue and purple and dawning pink. The light comes from the creature's body, he thinks. Like it carries the whole of the night sky under its skin.

It's gorgeous. It's otherworldly. It is, very clearly, not human.

There's blood smeared all around its mouth. Dripping claret red to compliment the blue-black of its hair, hanging lank and salt-stained around eyes that were never intended to see the sun. Its eyes are wide, and unblinking, and black as the deepest reaches of the ocean, with flecks of diamond light bursting in the depths of them, like bubbles, like stars.

"Did you bite me?" he says, the cold and the blood loss making him bold, or insane, or both. The creature hisses at him, and, between one moment and the next, it has darted past him, quicker than the eye can follow, and Hob finds himself alone, and once again in darkness.

Though there is a faint light in the direction the creature went, and one that is recognizable. The sun. The sun. Hob gets his good leg underneath himself, and feels the ooze of blood run hot and staticky down his injured thigh, and, one bleeding foot at a time, he crawls towards the light.

Later, convalescing in St. Peter's Church, bandages wound tight around the meat of his thigh, Hob muses that Brighton seems to be a lovely town at this time of the year. Airy, quaint, a little dock just large enough for a decent-sized ship, if one was so inclined to visit. Quite a lot of sandy beaches, and a handful of chalky white cliffs that hide secret grottoes within their water-carved depths.

His fingers find his thigh, almost by instinct now, and though he cannot see them, he imagines he can still feel them. The needle-point of the creature's teeth buried in his flesh. The hot gush of blood. He'd seen the marks left behind, while the sisters of the Church had generously cleaned his wounds: two perfect rows of garish red, precisely the width and height of a human mouth, if a human mouth were equipped with daggers instead of teeth.

Their minds aren't wired for it, Death had said of humans, and immortality. It does queer things to their souls.

Hob traces his fingers over the hidden marks, sure to leave a scar, and feels a pulsing satisfaction at the idea. He hopes it scars. He rather hopes he feels it ache, when storms pass overhead.

He thinks he's going to find another ship. Another crew. Be more careful this time. And, when he's back on his feet, when he's got a good blade and a bit of coin to his name, he's going to come back. He's going to find that creature that took a chunk from his thigh.

He thinks he might ask it to do it again.

[cyaerandom]

FAQ

Do not interact with this account if you're a minor.

I highly recommend not following me at @cyaerandom, because it's a personal account. If you like what I draw, please consider my art blog instead. I will reblog any scribbles I post here.

ART BLOG @cerberusmahou I'm mainly into ATLA 🪃👣 + 🌾🌊‎ , but I draw whatever and this can change any day. Take this into consideration before following. Mute #riya reblog for art only and check the other stuff I'm into to curate your space. Alternatively, you can install XKit and turn on the feature Show Originals. Art only tag Scribbles tag (cw: suggestive content) Ask me anything, or give me ideas to draw! Unless specified otherwise, I don't take art requests. However, I'm always on the lookout for inspiration, happy to read about your headcanons and talk about our mutual interests. As a general rule expect me to reply by text, but if any prompt gets my brain gears turning, I may draw it.

🌈M/F ATLA. A discord group for LGBT+ adults who enjoy or create straight ships content and want to meet people similar to them!

All joining members must be 20+ years old. Mlm/wlw is obviously allowed and welcomed, but not our focal theme.

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Any anatomy book you recommend? Figure drawing by Kan Muftic and Morpho collection by Michel Lauricella.

Could you share your art style inspiration? Here.

Any tips for dynamism? Besides checking on art tutorials (dynamism and gesture drawing), I'd say studying the principles of 2D animation, paying attention to real people's body language, and watching animation compilations from great artists like Richard Williams, Milt Halt, Hiroyuki Imaishi, Yutaka Nakamura, etc. I tend to tag animation gifs I go across and like, feel free to use it as reference library, if it's helpful for you.

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I mainly draw m/f, but I talk and draw about gender and sexuality in a very fluid way. Sometimes seriously, sometimes as a joke. If you need characters and ships to be gender-conforming to a fault, my account is not for you.

+18 only

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Check my former pinned post and appreciate this beautiful fanart of my wife and her husband.

[marimayscarlett]

Six men marriage favorite [anything, just go off 🧨]

Thank you for your ask 🌻 The topic of 'six men marriage' seems to be moving a lot of people on here currently , and that's the way it should be 😌 I have to say, I immediately thought of something that is a bit more abstract, maybe not really what you had in mind.... What I love and admire about this six men marriage, what sometimes moves me to tears and simply fills me with gratitude at the end of the day, is this: their unity.

Their will to work on themselves and on the band to resolve conflicts, to give everyone their right to vote, to build an unwavering democracy that may not leave much room for the individual, but makes the band all the stronger. It is certainly not always easy to keep something like this going and demands a lot from the individual (as some band members repeatedly mention in interviews), and yet they have kept it up - for 30 years. You get the impression that they really are driven by the desire to optimize this band time and again, which was founded 30 years ago in an old cellar and became an unbelievable worldwide success, and (after inner conflicts and struggles) are willing to put up with having to step back as individuals. Their cohesion is remarkable, there is so much emotionality in this band.

I'll let the band members speak for themselves to show that the subject of their relationship with each other as a unit and as a working team really does have an impact on everyone:

"I realized that I could do something with Rammstein that I wouldn't be able to do in any other world, I would never quit. It's not even important to me that I'm in the band. I could just drive around with the band, that would be enough for me. That's the best thing in the world for me, especially that gang feeling. I was lucky that it's a band and not a gangster gang. But I would have liked it just as much from the heart." Flake [source]

"We have a nice chemistry going on right now, really. We love each other more than ever and it feels really good to make music together." Paul [source]

"We didn't earn every euro for the great songs, but because we stuck together. The fears and hardships, the ups and downs, arguments, jealousies and envy. Not being able to sleep for nights on end because you wonder whether you'll get your way or give in. The conflicts of conscience, the psychodramas. I've often asked myself why I do something to myself that wears my soul out so much and don't just do something else. Rammstein is like an old marriage, you can't let go. The kids are out of the house, but the wife is still there, she's not really sexy anymore, but I love her." Till [source]

"Everyone represents the band, not just the singer. Till has never had a problem with that. We know that we are only Rammstein together. If someone steps out of line, there's a group force that pulls them back in: "Go back into your line." Of course, that restricts our individuality a little. But we love it. We feel safe and comfortable in it because we know that's where our strength lies." Schneider [source]

"We realised that in order to get the best out of our music we had to become very critical of the stuff that we were doing. Because of that, we had to overcome many difficult obstacles together and that’s what we finally did." Oliver [source]

"There were times I felt like I don’t want to do it anymore, but there was always something, a bigger picture I’ve seen that made it worth while. I always figured we can over-step our egos. There’s something more beautiful than fighting for your egos." Richard [source]

It really seems to be like one big marriage... 'For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish...' 🤍

[timetorace]

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞

HI EVERYONE! Writing a short one about today’s race and Charles’ DNF. By the way, this can be a second part of “Late night doubts”. Hopefully you all like it xxx Have fun xxx

ship: charles leclerc x fem!reader.

summary:  You follow Charles to his motorhome after his DNF in Paul Richard. 

warnings: none. Well, French GP 2022? Panic attacks mention, just a mention. 

word count: +1,4K.

This one shot can be a second part (or related to) of “Late night doubts”.

“Oh, no!” You gasped, “No, no, no, no!” You muttered watching as Xavi was trying to explain to Charles how to get back on track. However, a few seconds later, you heard Charles’s rapid and heavy breathing and then a scream of fury. Oh, God. He was really upset. Was it a mechanical failure again? Or was he simply confused? 

You had heard a few minutes before his crash how Charles was breathing rapidly on the radio; it sounded so fast that at first, you overestimated the possibility that he was having a panic attack, but after hearing him scream; he was probably just furious or suffering from the heat and dehydration for deciding not to have water inside the car. You understood he didn’t want to add weight to the car, but they were doing 30 in the environment and you didn’t think that getting dehydrated was the best option. You were worried about the effect, but you understood his decision.

You slid down the side to sneak in the paddock's direction, leaning against the wall of the Ferrari garage entrance, waiting for Charles to return to the marshals. When he walked through the gate, you noticed he still had his helmet on. God, that was never a good sign. It meant he didn’t want to lose him in public and that was never a good thing because Charles was usually unbelievably good at handling the pressures of racing and dealing with the press. The camera followed him as he made his way to his motorhome along with his PR manager. You followed him from a safe distance of a couple of meters so as not to intrude on the TV broadcast and once the camera stayed in the paddock, you jogged to follow him. You gave a sideways smile to his PR manager, who was stationed outside the motorhome, before going inside.

When you entered inside, you saw Charles sitting with his arms on his legs and his hands on his face, clearly distressed by the situation. You just walked up to him and sat next to him in silence. You didn’t think he would appreciate any feelings of pity or pity at that moment. After a couple of minutes, Charles spoke.

“I screwed it up”

“You’re still halfway through the season.” You pointed.

“I can’t keep making these mistakes if I want to be world champion”

“Babe, you still have all the races left after the summer break” You still knew that Charles was going to have to be perfect after today’s race and that Max would have to have car problems or finish second or third. You knew two things: One, that Max Verstappen did not give up so easily wanting the championship as much as Charles, and two, that Red Bull was much more reliable than Ferrari.

“Don’t you understand? World champions don’t make these kinds of mistakes! One thing is the team’s mistakes with the car and another thing is me being stupid and hitting the car against the barriers!” Charles exclaimed, raising his voice.

You raised your eyebrows a little surprised at his outburst, but you didn’t blame him for the rush of emotions he must be feeling. “I know,” you replied simply.

“I’m sorry for yelling” He gave you an apologetic sneer.

“It’s okay” You gave him a dismissive sign “What are you going to do now?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know that eventually, you have to go out and face them all, but if you don’t want to do it, that’s fine”

“I know I have to, I’m just-” Charles rubbed his hand over his face in frustration “I’m so mad”

“I know, your radio was very descriptive”

“The radio? Did they put the radio on?” Charles asked you before letting out a regretful moan, “Ugh, perfect, just amazing”

“I’m sorry” You apologized even though you knew it wasn’t your fault, but you still felt bad for him.

“I didn’t know it was open”

“I imagined” You knew that he never had an outbreak like this in public and that he directly would have said nothing if he knew the radio was open.

“Did you all hear it?”

You nodded “Honestly, I thought you were having a panic attack from the way you were breathing before you crashed and screamed,” You confessed biting your lower lip

“It was the heat,” Charles complained.

“Now I know, but it seemed like something else” You shrugged.

“Great, the media is going to love this.” He moved to rest his head on your lap. You just started stroking his hair.

“Calm down before going out to talk to them”

“I should have kept it to myself,” He murmured, and you frowned. What did this guy have with keeping his emotions to himself?

“Why? Why are you afraid of showing emotions?”

“I just had a breakdown on international TV,” He let out a sigh closing his eyes at the tranquility of your touch “I just wanted to be alone and the cameras wouldn’t stop focusing on me, I put my helmet back on so I wouldn’t have to talk with no one yet”

He had cameras following him all the time, and you understood the frustration of not being able to do anything without everyone finding out and then asking about it. “I know”

“And yet it doesn’t matter because I just had a breakdown on international television.” Why was he so worried about others knowing that he was visibly angry and distraught? You understood the theme of the image, but there was nothing wrong with showing that he cared.

“You’re human, I think you can afford not to be perfect”

“I can’t believe I keep making the same mistakes,” El moaned.

“We all make mistakes,” you comforted him “You have them now but Max may have them later”

“Between my mistakes and the car’s mechanics, I’m going to end up losing the championship”

“All drivers make mistakes”

“I swear to God that if I lose the championship for Imola and for today I-“

“If you lose it won’t be just your fault, you didn’t lose all those points just because of yourself” He had been carrying the weight of the whole team for a long time and felt responsible for everyone’s mistakes, not just his own. Charles wasn’t being fair to himself.

“Babe, I know it’s no use, but you should be a little less hard on yourself, sometimes things don’t go as expected.” You suggested “Stop beating yourself up”

“Yeah I know, it’s just- it’s just that I feel so stupid right now”

 “You’re not stupid” You shook your head “You’re human” He hit himself hard when he made a mistake and took full responsibility but sometimes things happened and he had to understand that “You have lows like in Silverstone but then everything got better in Austria, that’s the sport, it has ups and downs and you know it, so why do you do this to yourself?”

“If I don’t blame myself, who am I supposed to blame?”

“There is no one to blame, you went off track, those things happen, that’s it,” You shrugged “Now move forward to Hungary”

“I-” He started but was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Charles, are you okay? I’m sorry but we have to go now,” The PR manager said through the door.

“Coming!” He responded by jumping up to get out of there.

“Babe?” You called him before it came out. “Remember to breathe, just breathe” He needed to calm down and collect his thoughts before opening his mouth with the press. With a little luck, he was a little calmer now to speak calmly.

“You are amazing, ma belle” He told you, giving you a small smile. At least he was smiling. 

You shrugged “Thanks, I’ve my moments” You answered with a wink before he got out of the motorhome and you took the helmet that Charles had left aside. Everything was going to be fine. He was still in the race for the championship. Charles just had to remember to breathe.

[notafraidofredyellowandblue]

I know this is an extremely controversial topic and we shouldn't discuss what we don't know but this is coming from a good place.

I'm just worried. I hope Richard's health is good. But surely him having a belly like that is a sign of something that's not going well. He's not gaining weight anywhere else on his body and this isn't about his weight at all. I'm just concerned that his gut may be a sign of something like IBS, bad liver or heart problems due to his smoking.

Again I'm sorry for bringing this up but it is not normal and I don't want him to suffer in any way.

Hi anon.. it's kind of you to worry about his health, i think we all want our guys to be happy and healthy and enjoying life 🌺

That said, i think we shouldn't try to put diagnostical health labels on what we see, we have no idea how his health is (and we shouldn't really)

Richard's bodytype has always been of the 'rounder' variety, even in his younger days; he was never as lean as for instance Flake or Olli. Maybe just in the 'cocaine years' he was a bit more angular, but we don't want to go back to that (at least i hope he won't).

to me he looks a bit 'better filled out' all over, also especially in the chest and shoulders area, and the tummy gets the extra effect of sticking out about because of the curve in his back.

Most importantly for me, he feels comfortable the way he looks, even giving us glimpses of the goods by letting his coat hang open (and bending forward....he knows we're looking 👀)

And who knows, maybe he carries a little bit extra weight because he quit smoking and is eating sweets instead....come to think of it...has anyone seen him with a cigarette recently 🤔

🌺

[fruityyamenrunner]

https://www.washingtonpost.com/archive/local/1977/10/20/cia-circumcision-study-secretly-circumscribed/798d65ab-821c-4cc8-bf2d-a47881f747cf/

CIA Circumcision Study Secretly Circumscribed

By Richard Cohen

October 20, 1977

HOW TO BEGIN? How to begin a column about the CIA's secret study of the effect of circumcision? You see my problem. You understand. Therefore, it will come as no surprise if I begin slowly, sort of backing into the subject, telling you that I first learned of the CIA program in The Washington Post. There was a small story of exactly four paragraphs and it was pointed out to me by my wife who said, if I recall correctly, "Look at this." I pretended to be indignant.

I read the story. It said that the CIA in the early 1960s "funded" experiments on circumcised children "to determine if the operation left any emotional after-effects . . . The aim was to determine if circumcision at a significant stage of a child's development produced anxieties such as fear of castration . . ." It went on a bit more and ended with the news that the conclusions, if any, were not revealed. I waited.

I waited for the other shoe to drop. I waited for some senator or congressman or anybody to yell bloody murder. Nothing, I waited for someone to ask for an investigation. Nothing. I waited for an editorial, somebody maybe asking what business it was of the CIA's to find out anything about circumcision. Nothing. I waited for a press release from the ACLU, pointing out that there is nothing in the CIA's charter allowing it to do this kind of research. Nothing.

I kept waiting. Surely someone would say something. Surely someone would write something. Surely, this was an outrage - the CIA finally going completly bonkers. I mean, even its wildest programs on mind control had to do, in a loose way, with intelligence. But this - what had this to do with anything? I waited. Nothing.

So I started to ask people if they had read the story. I asked because after a while I thought maybe I was the only one who had seen it. Most people said they didn't see it, but a few said they did. They had nothing to say about it. Every once in a while, I would sneak a look at the story, as if reassuring myself that it had really been in the paper. Then one day someone wrote something about it. It was James A. Wechsler of the New York Post and he wrote a column.

He wrote about how he had seen the same story I had seen, only he had seen it in the New York Times. He wrote how no one else had seen it and he, too, kept wondering why nothing was being done - no one saying anything, no calls for a congressional investigation, nothing but a deafening silence. He wrote about how after a while he doubted that he had seen the story, how he searched his desk for it, how it was suddenly missing. I read that and was yelling in my head. "You read it, Jimmy, you read it. Just you and me. Jimmy, we read it. We know. No one else knows. Just you and me."

Anyway, Wechsler's column didn't advance the story any, didn't tell you anything that wasn't in the first newspaper accounts of the experiments, and so I continued to wait for someone to give it the full treatment. It never happened, and the more I thought about it, the more I thought that the ball, so to speak, was in my court.

I would do a column and in this column I would say that this story about the circumcision experiments was a commentary on our times - a commentary on now blase and jaded we've become about CIA abuses. The story, after all, cmae after several years of disclosures about CIA abuses and cockamamy schemes - everything from an attempt to hand Fidel Castro a poison cigar ("Have, have one of mine") to enlisting the Mafia in the war on Castro to recent stories about the agency's mind-control program in which it dropped more mickeys into more drinks than Mickey Spillane has done in a life-time of stories. It was our CIA, after all, that opened a bordello of sorts in San Francisco where, in the name of intelligence, it drugged unsuspecting men and watched through a two-way mirror as they engaged in sex with a presumably patriotic prostitute. After that, a circumcision study pales by comparison.

You read that kind of stuff and you can understand how people could become blase, shrug their shoulders at the news. You could understand that and you could write a column about that and you would not be wrong. But you would not be telling the truth, either. For what vexed me more than anything about that original story was that business about the conclusions not being revealed. After all, let's face it - it's not a bad question. It's a question debated for generations. I wanted to know the answer.

So I called the CIA, acting very reportorial and somber, and I told my business to a woman who answered the phone and she volunteered that the agency had gotten lots of letters from people who also wanted to know what the CIA had learned about circumcision. Well. I asked slyly, what do you tell them? She giggled. No comment, she said.Then I got a public information officer on the phone. Very pleasant. Very nice. He explained that the existence of the program had been deduced from financial records but the study and its conclusion, if any, were no longer available. It had been destroyed in 1973. I hung up depressed, but then I thought of something that gave me hope. I mean, you never know anymore.

Maybe the Department of Agriculture will get interested.

what did "dick cohen" writing in 1977 mean by this?

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 2/20/2024

i don't usually use these writeups as a memory aid, but this week it's good bc most of last week was a blur of applying to jobs and playing breath of the wild

listening

i have several playlists that are several hours long with a couple different flavors of the really specific kind of instrumental music i need to do mass quantities of data entry. these are now all poisoned by horrible memories of my last two jobs so i'm slowly building new ones. a great candidate is OASIS, off the REDLINE soundtrack. REDLINE (2009, dir. Koike) is an extremely horny anime movie about driving really fast, being true to yourself in spite of corporate overlords, sports betting, and fucking.

i think this was a scene with background club or cafe music? electronica instrumental with a little bit of a groove and a very particular mid-aughts sound. you know when powder coating is extremely matte but also extremely sparkly? spotify.

-

reading

Samantha Cole (previously Vice, co-founder of 404 Media) has a beat that's focused on sex tech, sex work, deplatforming of sex work, and kink community beefs that manages to be both detached and very, very kind. i trust her to write about any kink community in a respectful and fair way, and even when she visibly doesn't understand the appeal of a kink she writes about them in a respectful and fair way. a great example of this is the furry adult baby diaper community being deplatformed by patreon.

but her most recent investigation, "can this shitty vibrator actually give you malware?" is fascinating. any job that can legitimately claim vibrators as a buisness expense and perform a teardown is fascinating to me.

what a tremendous and endlessly fascinating world we live in.

-

watching

there are many movies on tubi that i have like. name recognition of but have never actually seen, so i'm starting to work my way through things that aren't noir or obscure westerns. like Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000, dir. Lee).

the practial effects in this movie are insane. the wirework is insane. wirework insane. this is the dreamiest and most beautiful chase/fight scene i've ever seen and they're zipping around a bamboo forest.

we're going to have to live with this imperfect screenshot ok this laptop is Extremely old. the interior sets often look like theater sets (complimentary). just a stunningly beautiful movie with the sickest action scenes you’ve ever seen. plot a little choppy but forgivable imo. i know this is regarded as one of the finest movies of all time, not just one of the finest martial arts movies of all times, so saying anything feels a little like giving it a dollar store plastic trophy. i liked it and i had fun. watching a critically acclaimed non-american good movie is good for the brain steeped in lackluster american westerns, i think.

-

playing

much like in real life, in breath of the wild i am refusing to do much towards the main quest and am mostly puttering around looking for shit to upgrade my outfits.

unlocked rudania, did not go inside.

what's with this little. sword graveyard??? on the northeastern edge of the caldera??? the only thing on that island is an octorok?? did it kill like eight guys???

finished richard scarey's tarreytown :) including that horrible rich guy who wanted me to kill some guardians for ??? reasons. i am pretty confident about killing hinox (is the plural of hinox, hinox?), wizzrobes, and most lizalfos if i can get the drop on em but i am Not confident about killing actively moving guardians without guardian arrows, which is an expensive way of doing business. due to reliably one-shotting the wizzrobes with revali's bow, i am running into the interesting problem of always having a glut of magical weapons. which leads me to go fuck around the extreme hot and cold areas those magic weapons are good for. and less fucking around the normie areas i actually want to fuck around.

got the good sword at thirteen hearts, i stopped short at twelve hearts gone and the deku tree called me a pussy. i unfontunately did not screenshot that. hey did you know there's a korok on the deku tree's head whose life's purpose seems to be riddles?

:(

and now for quite a lot of horse talk.

dodged like four lynels taking Ganon's horse up the northern edge of the map to get a pic of the leviathan.

caught the white horse, we are such pretty pretty princesses together. i think it's very funny that the gerudo fanciest weapons and hylian royal regalia look so similar. purple and gold eternal.

did you know if you feed your horse an endura carrot you get extra spurs???

i was looking for a 5 star speed horse but after catching and releasing four different solid black horses this is the best one (4 str, 4 speed, 5 stamina) i found. maybe I’ll shoot for a bright chestnut with lots of chrome for my speedy horse, the equine equivalent of a red convertible.

very funky conincidence on the grasslands behind the lord of the mountain's spring. not identical, bc the lead horse doesn't have facial markings, but what are the odds of that huh. i wish grays in this game didn't look so chalky and washed out, i love a gray horse in real life.

i think it's some bullshit that you have to fight your way into this spring, get told "go get a dragon scale", deal with all that, fight your way BACK into the spring, and then be presented with a Major Test of Strength shrine. c'mon just give it to me!!!

game continues to be very bad at spitting out riders next to horses or donkeys EXCEPT!!! for this doctor. i didn't know hyrule had traveling doctors! i quite honestly didn't think they had the techonology, given that the state of medicine in hyrule is very mortar and pestle based!

the game gave me a tooltip like "make friends with dogs! they'll lead you to treasure!" and i was like What but it does actually work, you just have to target them in the camera first and then feed them several hunks of meat. bonkers game. how many other goddamn mechanics are there that i've missed???

next steps: shrine hunting. i have like 50 out of 120 which is wild to me. i played this game two years ago, got to about a hundred shrines, and managed to forget where they all fucking are. yes my shrine sensor is always on. there's probably at least twenty in central hyrule, which is not a place i touched much on my list playthrough, also the last two memories i need are in there. i have filled out a good chunk of the compendium (completely filled the materials pages) but idk if i will be a completionist about it. there are so so so so so many weapons variants. i am cheating a bit and looking up the animals i missed (mostly a lot of bugs and fish) but one of the entries is for patricia, the royal sand seal. i would not have ever thought to take a picture of the named sand seal, i'm sorry game but that's a bit obtuse.

-

making

not much progress on the cross stitch or job fronts, but since i finally have a balcony, i planted peas and beans from @shiny-good-rock and basil from @morrak than have been languishing in a box for several years, the basil had an okay germination rate so my fingers are crossed re: peas and beans.

i am a bit annoyed about marigolds. maybe it's a bit too early for them here, or maybe they're not as popular as they were in the northeast? i tried like five different big box stores and indie nurseries, only one indie nursery had any and they were very pest-ridden. i would like marigolds, as friends for my tomatoes.

it is currently 11:40 PM CST as i type this so tomorrow i'll add something with a garden layout and what varieties i planted.

[gardens-light]

Protected

Being a apart of the 'Planetary Frontier' was supposed to thrilling and exciting. Exploring new worlds and, beautiful unusual life forms. At first, it appeared to be a dream come true. Until your research team, accompanied by top notch U.S Military Marines got stranded on a planet that wasn't on your radar. And to make matters worse? Something was out there... Hunting and watching...

Content: Course Language. Small amounts of detailed gore, and use of weaponry.

What is more terrifying? A primal hunter with exceptional skills to attack and stalk their pray for sport. Or a creature of exact same capabilities and skill, but sworn to protect?.

It was a question you'd thought would never be answered. More of a hypothetical question- a theory. Nothing more, nothing less. But most theories of yours and other lab assistants were often ignored. The U.S military personnel running the joint simply wanted answers. All too happy to skip the 'minor details'- which were actually scientific results, and data. And go straight to what they were more concerned with. And unfortunately today was just going to be one of those days....

"Unbelievable!"

Crash!

Bang!

You watched the middle aged Commander push laptops and tablets off the mental benches. Ripping out cables from their ports, throwing lab equipment onto the floor, like a upset toddler.

"Useless! Pathetic! The U.S government has given this department the best technology known to man! And you lab rats are telling me you can't use it? What's the point in having you all?"

Another helpless laptop thrown onto the concrete floor. You sighed heavily.

"Because the U.S government never considered the thought of us, 'lab rats' conducting experiments and research on not only alien technology. But also on a alien planet uninhabited by humans."

The Commander's hazel eyes narrowed on you. "We all knew the risks and rewards, of going on this planetal expedition. We all have a task! Working together, and striving forwards. But you and your team, Ms Y/N, has been letting us down!"

Another heavy sigh left you, as you rubbed your temples. The snickers of the military men behind the Commander could easily be heard. Your team looked at you with hopeful eyes, knowing you'd say something to put the Commander back in his place.

"Me and my team have worked tirelessly around the clock, trying to achieve impossible results, of which you demand! It's not us, or the technology that's 'useless'. It's merely the problem of which we're up against-"

"And what 'problem' are we facing" the Commander asked between laughs.

"The very same problem that you and your trigger-happy, jar-heads Marines have, Commander!" That soon died down his laughter. "For weeks, you've been facing an enemy that's not only hard to wound. But also to kill. Yet you have machine and sub-machine guns, rifles, heavy duty weapons- for gods sake! Your Lieutenant lunched an RPG that this thing! And for what? Me and my team can't research anything!"

You gestured toward the empty examination table. Accompanied by a small metal table with wheels, that only had a strange glowing green liquid like substance. A couple of broken blades, that the closet thing you could identify it too, was hardened steel.

"We have nothing to go by! No research or any experiments can be done, when we have nothing. Not even a body!"

Commander Banks adjusted his camouflaged shirt, as you asked the hard question.

"How many men have you lost, Commander? At least over a dozen? Till you and your men gives us a body. My team won't be responsible for Jack-shit! Let alone carry the weight of 'failing' this 'expedition."

An uncomfortable, brief silence loomed over the lab. Lieutenant Richards cleared his throat as he slowly approached you. Brushing back his blonde locks, and he looked at you with a weak smile.

"I think... What the Commander was trying to say was, that we've all had a good few tiring weeks. To put it gently. Being stranded on this alien planet of a jungle, as affected us and caused tension in one way, or another. Aren't I right, Commander?"

The childish leader barely answered with a "hmp", tutting under his breath while crossing his arms. Lieutenant Richards frowned at his higher-up, before turning back to you. Flashing a weak smile once again, hoping you didn't see his expression earlier.

"Exactly! And as you said, Ms Y/N, we're facing an apex predator. Nothing on the food chain can be higher than this thing. Our weapons barely wound it. Your lab... Stuff-ah! Equipment can barely do... The ah, um- research and development! So, I purpose we work together. Me and my men are going for another 'hunt', perhaps you. Ms Y/N, could join us."

You raised an eyebrow, as your team gazed at you in disbelief.

"What?-"

"With your brilliant, beautiful, scientific mind. You could experience what you need on the field. With the protection of my men."

You crossed your arms, "no way in Hell-"

"We track this thing. Always on its trial. Our last 'outing' a member of your team, retuned with its blood-"

"After falling dead to an infection later in the day-"

The Lieutenant nervously chuckled, "an infection? Ma'am, it was simply a bug bite" he leaned in closer. "Besides... It would do you some good to get out of this lab. A woman of your calibre, doesn't belong among these lab-rats. Come on an 'outing' with some real men."

You pushed his hand away, as he tried to gently brush his knuckles across your cheek. Only gazing at him with an unamused stare...

And that's how you found yourself in this god for shaken situation. Hiding and crouching behind unusual foliage, which also seemed to be similar to the jungles back on Earth. Only the sky was strange and extremely different. Through the pink and orange skies, you could see the rings and shire size of the neighbouring planet, which glowed a gentle green colour. The ruby sun casting dark shades of purple and blue, as it settled behind the trees.

Five men from a squad of fifteen has already lost their lives. All died in gruesome fashion, skinned and strung up upon the nearest tree. Nearly everyone was separated from the original group. You and Lieutenant Richards sat upon the rocks of a nearby stream, accompanied by two men.

All three grasped onto their weapons tightly, like a frightened believer clutching on their bible. Everything appeared still and peaceful, but you knew you were being watched. The hairs on your back stood up. You looked up and down the stream, while the men gazed into the trees.

"We need to get to base!"

"Haven't you noticed? There's a fucking alien jumping around in the trees! And hunting us down!-"

Lieutenant Richards glared at his men, "enough bickering! The base is just across this stream! Now you're the finest men of the U.S Forces. Therefore stiffen your posture and march on!"

You heard their gulps, attempting to swallow their nerves down deep into the pits of their stomach. The two men wondered towards the edge of the murky river, Lieutenant Richards silently gestured for you to follow. You raised an eyebrow,

"Are you serious?" You voice asked in a low whisper. "We'll be out in the open! You don't know who or what could be lurking in that river-"

"And going around like you suggested earlier, is the longer path. We need to get back to the base and fast! I'm losing far to many men to this demon. And don't worry, Sweet Cheeks." His wink and flirtatious tone, left a sour after taste in your mouth. "I'll protect you. Remember, I'm right here."

You had more trust in a bug taking you out with a disease , than this jar-head Marine protecting you.

Carefully stepping towards the river's edge, you cautiously entered into the murky water. It soaked your shoes and trousers, reaching your knees. Using your feet to feel out the riverbed, while your eyes looked around in all directions. Every now again, you stopped and lowered yourself to the water, whenever your ears picked up the slightest rustle within the trees. Or the sounds of the nearby wildlife moving due to being disturbed.

Half way across, the water reached your waist. Your toes just touching the riverbed. Your gaze caught sight of some nearby birds suddenly leaving their branch. The hairs at the back of your neck stood up, and a chill ran through your spine. Lieutenant Richards bumped into you, the end of his gun gently poking into your back.

"We need to keep moving, Sweet Cheeks."

The instincts inside your body screamed for you to run. The gentle nudge from the Lieutenant didn't encourage any movement within your body.

"I'm here, nothing will hurt you-"

As soon, as you immediately knelt into the river. Bright blue flash lunched from beyond the trees, hitting the soldier whom lead the group. Witnessing his chest being shot open, everything inside was burnt except for the spine. The soldier and Lieutenant Richards immediately yelled in grief and frustration, emptying the magazines of their weapons in all directions. Not really targeting anything in particular.

A second blue flash came and attacked the soldier in front of you. His head exploding like a bloody watermelon. The body lifelessly dropped into the river, bright sections of red ran through the waters current. Gunfire suddenly seized, replaced by the sloshing sounds of the river behind you.

Quickly turning to face the Lieutenant, your brows knitting together, as you watched him flee back in the direction of which you came. You wanted to yell out for him, demand him to act like a soldier and fight. But on the other hand, you also couldn't blame him for running away. You certainly would do the same, if your body wasn't frozen stiff. You waited in horror, listening for the final flash of blue. But... It never came. Instead, heavy footsteps sloshed through the river.

Approaching the dead bodies of the soldiers behind you, everything right down to your bones screamed to run. But you couldn't, for fear has its hold over you. Kneeling against the riverbed, with the water reaching your chest. Shivers and chills ran all over you. Your eyes closed, and stomach twisted in a sickening way, as the sound of bones broke, cracked and torn away from the lifeless victims.

All was still and quiet. It felt like the air suffocated you, as you tried to breathe deeply and calmly. The sound of heavy movement approached you from behind, feeling the ripples flowing against your back with each movement. Stopping possibly less than half a meter from you, low growls and clicks demanded your attention. It was talking to you. Whatever it was, wanted you to see it, but why?

You were too scared to move. All you could do was open your eyes. Catching a small glimpse of its reflection within the river. You swear your heart jumped into your throat. It's towering height made you feel so small. Large bracers that looked like steel, framed and protected its forearms, matching shoulder armour framed its board shoulders.

A strong hand reached out for you, claws intertwined into your hair, as they grabbed the strains by the roots, and tugged upwards. At first it was gentle, but after a moment of hesitation, a low growl snarled from the creatures throat. It's hand tightening around your scalp, and pulling you harshly. It was frustrated now-possibly annoyed. Not daring to test its patience again, you cautiously got onto your feet.

The grip upon your hair semi loosened, as you followed the silent command of turning in its direction. If your heart wasn't in your throat before, it certainly was now. Even your breath got stuck in your throat. This truly was an apex predator.

Eyes widening as your gaze fell onto its exposed muscled chest. Brown fishnet netting covered it's torso. Your eyes trailed upwards, a armoured chest piece covered only the right side. Necklaces adorned with canine teeth, claws and bone pieces rested around it's neck. A metal mask, showing small details of slight battle damage and claw marks, covered it's face.

Strange, long cylinder tubes, that reminded you of the smooth texture of hardened rubber. Framed it's masked face and reaching it's shoulders, styled in some dreadlock sort of fashion.

It's hand moved from the back of your head, it's grip upon your hair loosening, as it's claws gently brushed against your jawline. Placing a thumb under your chin, turning your head from side to side. A few clicks and low growls came from underneath it's mask. The tone was almost... curious.

You raised an eyebrow. It's studying me?...

Attempted to do the same, you slowly reached out and placed a hand upon it's chest. Through the fishnet material, you could feel it's skin. The texture similar to a crocodile. Your full height barely reached it's waist, you steadily got onto your tiptoes to try and reach up for it's mask. Although, you barely touched it's necklace's, the creature's hand quickly moved from your chin and grasped your wrist. A deep, disapproved growl, caused you to go back onto the soles of your feet.

"I'm sorry." You spoke in a gentle tone, attempting to hide your fear which still lingered in your voice.

Suddenly it's sight snapped away from you, looking over past you to what caught it's attention. Withdrawing your hand, and closing your eyes, as the sound of a gun clocking into place disrupted the still air.

Don't pull the trigger, Lieutenant. Just don't.

Wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to itself. The creature reached into a sheath behind it's back, throwing a simple dagger at the Lieutenant. Turning it's back against the gunfire, shielding you from the shot.

A painful growl rumbled within it's chest, as green glowing blood oozed from the fresh wound, upon it's shoulder. The creature looked down at you, assuring itself that you were safe and unharmed. You greeted it with a shocked, yet curious gaze. Realising a breath you didn't know you were holding.

Either for better, or for worse. You belonged to this creature now. Guarded and protected by them always, but for what purpose?...

[andydrysdalerogers]

The Type You Save ~ S I X T E E N

James "Bucky" Barnes and OFC Alexandra "Alex" Richards

Detective James Barnes hasn't seen the love of his life in three years. Since the night she was almost caught stealing a painting. He knows it was her and she disappeared leaving him confused and heart broken.

Alexandra Richards never expected to be pulled back into her old life two years after she left it. She had found love and a home and was happy. Until a note blackmailed her to take one last job. Three years later she walked into the last person she expected to see in San Francisco. Because he lived in New York right?

They always put family before everything. And he would do anything to get his family back. Because she's the type you save.

TW: mob, death, smut, rape intentions, angst, guns, family abandonment, dub-con, manipulation

A/N: the penaultimate chapter

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Previous: F I F T E E N

Series Masterlist ~ Main Masterlist

Steve woke up with pain.  Shit, he thought to himself.  The light in the room was blinding, not helping the headache he had at all.  He blinked slowly trying to orient himself.  He went to massage his head but found he couldn’t move. This is what finally brought him into full consciousness.  He looked to see Nate sitting next to him, tied to the chair with his arms behind his back. He finally lifted his head and saw Alex in front of him, also tied to a chair but gagged.  He could see that she had been crying.  “Alex?” 

“Ah, Captain Rogers, good to see you are finally awake.”  A man in a crisp suit stood in front of him. “I don’t believe we have met.  Christian Grey.”  

Steve stared daggers at the man. “You’re the asshole that is trying to rip my family apart. Trying to take my brother’s wife.  My nephew’s mother.”  

“She is mine,” Christian snarled.  “She was always mine.” He punched Steve in the face. Steve raised his face back up, a trickle of blood running from the corner of his lip. Alex muffled scream came from across the room.  A laugh could be heard, and he looked to see another man with Zemo standing next to him.  

Christian walked over to Nate. “I knew you would betray me, Nathaniel.  You were always weak, especially for my girl.”  

“She was never your girl.” Nate looked defiantly towards him.  “You took an innocent girl and ruined her.  I did everything to protect her.  You just wanted to fuck her up.  We had a code, ethics.”  

Grey got right in his face. “Don’t act like you had to moral high ground,” he snarled.  “You were right there next to us, doing my dirty work without a second thought.  You lusted after Alex just like every other man. Let me rephrase, you were in love with her.”  

Nate didn’t blink.  “Yes, I do.  I loved her so much, but she deserved more than this life.  I had no problem helping her escape if it meant she was happy. I couldn’t save my soul, but I could save hers.”  

Alex let the tears openly flow.  She knew Nate had a crush, but she hadn’t known how deep it had gone. She looked at him with sorrow.  Nate knew what she wanted to say but he simply nodded.  

“That is so romantic.  A declaration of love,” Grey mocked.  

“Well, it’s better than what you think you are calling love.” Nate threw back.  “Tell her.  Tell her how you made her an orphan. How Walker ran them off that cliff. That you actually found her brother a few days after he tried to leave and tortured him when he refused to give his blessing.  How he begged you to spare her life. How you slit his throat and watched him bled out on the same floor you made her bedroom in.”  

Alex’s eyes widen at Nate’s words.  She started to scream through the gag and buck in the chair. Her mind on Simon.  She had assumed he was alive but underground.  Underground was right but he hadn’t been alive in years.  

Christian roared at Nate. “You think giving her these truths would make it better? I should kill you first, so she knows she is powerless to stop this. Walker.” Christian turned to face Alex as Walker went up to Nate and punched him in the gut, the force tipping the chair over and sending Nate onto his back.  Walker picked him back up and swung at his face, his nose now bleeding but unconscious.  

Alex continued to scream until Grey went and ripped the gag from her mouth.  “You’re a monster! You killed my family!” 

“I only did what I had to do to keep you, Alexandra.  I wanted you from the moment I saw you.”  He saw the confusion in her eyes. “You don’t remember? You wandered into a game one night, looking so innocent and beautiful.  I knew I had to have you.  But Simon refused.  So, I eliminated the obstacles.”  He laughed with such malice that it made Alex flinch.  “You were so easy to mold into what I needed.  Now, it’s time for some negotiations.”  

Outside, the police were slowly surrounding the home and garage.  Infrared camera detected no one in the house but they still send a team in to make sure.  James and Tony were waiting at the command center with the local police captain Thor Odinson.  “The house is clear, but it looks like someone was injured.  They found blood in one of the bedrooms.”  

“Alex,” James whispered and closed his eyes.  He snapped them open.  “Have you found Captain Rogers?” 

“No, but we still have the garage that is a ways back.”  Thor looked at his colleagues. “I would ask but I already know you won’t stay put.”  

“Sorry, but my entire family is in this.”  James pulled on his vest.  

Tony moved to stop him.  “Bucky, are you sure you can handle this?” 

“I need to bring them back to Drew.  He can’t lose them.” He checked the clip on his gun.  “I’m taking Grey dead or alive.”  

“What negotiations?” Alex kept breathing deep, trying to level her head.  But all she saw were thoughts of her parents, her brother, ripped away from her.  

“I have some paperwork that needs to be signed.”  Grey smirked.  “Formalities, really.”  

“Formalities?  For what?” 

“For you to be completely mine.  We have things that need to be resolved.”  

Alex lifted her chin.  “I won’t sign anything for you, you fucking prick.”  

Christian didn’t say a word as stepped towards her.  About six inches away, he leaned to her face.  “Watch. Your. Mouth.”  And without another warning he slapped her, her face rearing as it moved from the force.  A cry left her mouth as the pain radiated.  

“Don’t touch her!” Steve yelled, trying to move the restraints.  He felt one of the ropes slip but didn’t let on as he slowly freed one of his hands.  

“I won’t touch her again Captain.  Not until we finished at least, and I claim my prize.”  He whipped back to Alex.  “These papers.”  He threw them on the table next to her and turned her in her chair. “You will sign them.  Otherwise,” he grasped her chin to have her face the men tied up, “I will make you watch as we began to play with them.  Walker, as you know, loves to have fun with new friends.”  

Alex’s eyes glanced at Walker, an evil smile gracing his face as he played with a knife from his belt, twirling, glinting with menace. “What are they?” she whispered.  

“Marriage dissolution papers.  I want you to be mine and first I need to end your joke of a marriage to that cop.”  

Steve pleads with her. “Don’t sign them, Alex.  Its ok. Everything is going to be ok.” 

Alex could barely see him through the tears building up in her eyes. “I have too Stevie.  I need to save you.”  

“No, you don’t Ale. You were the one we needed to save. Everything will be ok.  Please don’t sign them.” 

The SWAT team approached the garage silently, James and Tony among them.  They all positioned themselves near the windows and doors.  James glanced in to see the three people tied up, Alex’s face red but could see someone with their head down and Steve with what looked like a hand free but playing it off.  “We have three hostages in there, one who looks unconscious,” he whispered.  They could now hear the conversation going on.  

“This is all so sweet,” he heard Grey say, but now is not the time.  A gun cocked back, ready to fire.  “Now, Alexandra.  What have you decided?” 

He could hear Alex sobbing quietly.  “What happens if he doesn’t sign?  You need two signatures.”  

“To save your life, I’m pretty sure I can get your officer to sign them.  He gets everything after all.  Your business, your money.  Everything but your son.  I’ll raise him after this.  Bring him up to be a good soldier and eventual heir.  You will still be his mother, but you will be my queen.”  

Alex face was one of horror, matching the one she could see on Steve’s and unknowingly James’s as well.  “You can’t have him,” she whispered.  

“Oh, I will pet.  And we will have others.  Our own little family.” Christian laughed, echoing in the garage. 

Steve saw out of the corner of his eye that Nate was waking up.  Nate looked around and saw Steve waving his loose hand at him.  He gestures to charge, and Nate understood.  He waited until Walker turned his back on the men.  Steve loosened his other hand holding the rope, so no noise was made.  He glanced around for a weapon and saw James in the window.  James winked and Steve understood.  They were no longer alone.  

He saw the men waiting for Alex to make her decision.  He subtly glanced at Nate and nodded once.  

James got ready after explaining what he saw.  He made it to the main door. And took a breath. Please God, make sure they are ok. He closed his eyes and opened them with focus. The SWAT team took position in front, their tactical gear making the practical choice for all.  Odinson counted down in his ear piece.  “Breach in three, two, one… “  

“Let’s have it, Alex.  I want an answer.  NOW!” 

Alex pulled in a breath as she could see that Steve was free and motioning Nate, looked in her direction.  But not at her.  And it hit her.  He was here. James was here. “Fine, I’ll sign.  But I need my hands.  I want to read it.  To understand what you are taking away from me.”  

Grey smirked.  “Sure.”  He let go of the tie on her wrist and she flexed.  She picked up the papers and started to read them, her eyes moving but actually observing the scene. Walker and Zemo had their backs to Steve and Nate, a huge mistake on their part.  Grey had his body turned as well.  

Steve saw that he had Alex’s attention.  He held up a hand counting down.  Closing his fist, he quietly went up to Walker, Nate up to Zemo and charged.  Steve put Walker in a choke hold while Nate charged into Zemo’s stomach, dropping both.  Grey turned to the commotion and then back as the door burst open.  

“Police!” 

Grey didn’t hesitate, firing at the officers as he ducked behind the desk.  Alex pushed herself back out of the way, but Grey grabbed her. Walker loosened Steve’s hold, turned and pointed his gun at Steve, but a SWAT officer took him out before he had a chance.  

Nate was loose from the chair and began to wail on Zemo.  Zemo pushed him off, but Steve got there with Walker’s gun.  “Move and you die, “ cocking the gun back.  

As the police moved in, Grey took hold of Alex and used her as a shield, his gun at her head, arm around her neck.  James ran in and stopped.  “Ah, Sargent Barnes. Nice of you to join us.”  

“Stop!” James put his hand up to stop the other officers.  Steve looked up and his face fell.  Nate’s face twisted in anger at the scene.  “Ok, just let her go.”  

“Let her go?  No, I don’t think I will.”  

“Jamie!” Alex cried.  

“Its ok Allie.  Everything is going to be ok, doll.” James took in her disheveled state.  “Are you hurt?” 

She shook her head slightly. “No.”  

“Ok enough chatter. You are going to talk to these nice officers and let us walk away.  I’m going to put her in the car with me and we are going to drive far away.  I won’t hurt her, and you get to live.”  

“That’s not going to happen.” James kept his gun trained on him but had no clean shot.  

A movement in his peripherals caused Grey to shift.  “Think about what you are going Captain.  I just need to pull and the world ends,” stopping Steve in his tracks.  

“Ok, let’s just remain calm,” James called out.  “You have no clean exit, Grey.  I don’t want to kill you, but I will if you try and take her from me again.”  

“Take her?  She was mine to begin with!  She was always mine!  And you, you just charmed her with your Brooklyn ways!” Grey screamed.  “You took the only thing I have ever loved!” 

“She ran from you.  What does that tell you?” 

“Alex just needed time.” Grey was letting his delusions out. “Didn’t you just need time pet?”  He grasped her neck harder, making her cry out.  “She’ll see that we are perfect together. I just need to get rid of the obstacles.  I just...” his eyes moved to James.  “I just need to get rid of you.”  He moved his gun away from Alex and pointed it at James.  

“No, please!” Alex yelled.  “I’ll leave, I’ll stay with you.  Please don’t hurt him.” She cried harder.  “Please don’t kill him.”  

“You need to stay with me Alex and the only way is if he is gone.” His attention was now on Alex, watching her beg for her husband.  

“Please Christian, I’m begging you to leave him alone.”  

In the chaos of her pleas, Nate moved closer to James.  He knew how unstable Grey could be.  He got around Steve just as Grey refocused the gun on James.  

“Thanks for keeping her safe Barnes.  But it’s time to go.”  

Alex screamed as the gun fired at James.  “Jamie!” 

James fell over, the wind knocked out of him after he hit the floor. He coughed and looked up to see Alex fall to her knees leaving Grey wide open.  He fired and hit Grey right in the chest, the blood splattering onto Alex as Grey fell over on top of her.  

That’s when James realized a body was pinning him down.  

“Nate!” Alex screamed  

James realized that this was Alex’s friend who jumped in the way to save his life. He pushed him over to see blood seeping from his stomach.  James immediately put pressure on the wound.  “Steve! Get Alex!” 

Steve pushed Grey off of Alex.  Steve checked her over as she thrashed to get to James and Nate.  “Stevie please, I’m fine!” She finally pulled free. “Alex, wait.”  

She fell next to Nate.  His eyes looked around panicking until he saw her face.  “Its ok Nate, it’s going to be ok,” she whispered.  

“We need EMTs in here now!” James yelled.  “Come on Nate, keep your eyes open.”  

“Please Nate, keep your eyes on me,” Alex pleaded.  She took his hand into hers.  “You have to live, ok? I need to kick your ass for being so stupid.”  

Nate tried to smile, blood coming from his mouth, staining his teeth.  “Love. You,” he labored to say.  

“Love you too Nate but don’t do this ok.  My son needs to meet you.”  She watched as his eyes began to flutter.  “No, no, no, Nate come on, stay with us.”  

The EMTs rushed over, and James moved out of the way to let them work.  He went to Alex to move her out of the way. “Come on Allie.”  

“No, I can’t leave him! Nate! Nate!” she screamed as James picked her up and pulled her away.  “Jamie please, he needs me.”  

“I know doll, I know.  I’m sorry.”  He held her close as she screamed for her friend.  

Nate felt cold, but when he looked into Alex’s eyes, knowing she was now safe, he felt at peace.  He let his eyes close as the medics worked on him. He could rest now that she was safe. 

I'm sorry... I'm so so sorry....

NEXT

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[lepurcinus]

Probably the strangest take I ever read about Watership Down was:

"Someone made a story about rabbit which he gave emotions to, but claims to accept controlling them (here it means when Adams said he accepted that rabbits could become a problem), made them suffer just to entertain the evil viewer with their suffering."

Man, what the fuck? Nobody enjoys the violent scenes in Watership Down, at least not in a sense of pleasure or fun. It's like the main reason why people dismiss the story as violent or scary. The descriptions are meant to make you feel pity and pain for them, to make you understand them. I don't understand what the hell you were getting at with that.

Anyway, no one, not me or anyone else can know how animals would really think or react to their environment if they could think or feel the same way we do. It's all a subjective view, subject to an author's own ideas.

If they are anthropomorphized, it is in many cases so that you can better understand them as if you were in their shoes, I think xenofiction is one of the best ways to make you see empathy towards animals, although certainly those that try to see it in a more focused way in a real view of a non-human being without going so much to sentimentalism are more powerful. Those that add emotions are the ones that open that window the best.

On the other hand, that you do any of this but are in favor of things that involve "harming" an animal (let's ignore whatever ethics there are in this because by the same token these people don't do it) like hunting game or the meat industry. It is not easily "discarding" the life of another living being. It is knowing how to separate fact from fiction and that the world is much more complicated than it seems.

You can love rabbits and still be okay with them being hunted by people. Because one can know that in many places these animals have no natural control that allows things to flow well. Killing an Australian rabbit means giving other mammals and birds a chance to live after the mess man made. But it does not mean not appreciating the life of the rabbit, it does not seek to torture or make the rabbit less.

What it does is that you SEE THE RABBIT AS A SENTIMENTAL BEING AND THEN LOOK FOR A WAY NOT TO CAUSE IT LONG TERM HARM WHEN A CONTROL IS MADE.

Probably these animal stories are the best proof and love letter of humanity towards the beings that live with them, some of them simply denote the author's LOVE AND PASSION towards nature and what is in it.

Anna Sewell was grateful to the horses for helping her and so she made them a story that was one of the pillars for animal rights.

Ernest Thompson Seton was a hunter, but when he met Lobo he never wanted to hunt a wolf again in his life and in his later works he showed his aversion to the hunting of his time.

Felix Salten was a hunter, but his novel brought about one of the pillars for legal hunting as we know it.

Richard Adams claimed to agree to control rabbits, but when what was written in his work was to become reality, he protested. When his work of two dogs suffering at human hands ended in an ambiguous and tragic ending he was not satisfied and changed it to one where a man who loves them made them happy forever.

Don't let them be dismissed so easily people, if you succeed, your work is all the reflection of who you are, your intentions in the most honest way. Let that message come through, however you can, let that reflection be noticed.

God, I should stop worrying about the opinions of unknown people on the internet. I'm still frustrated Yes? This might be understood for the shit but you know I'm not good at explaining things.

[thetarttfuldickhead]

Do you have a headcanon list for the rest of the team's lynx flavors! Leather and Cookies can't be to the taste of all of them!

Let’s be real, nonny – of course I don’t. I mean, who has that? Really, who?

Well, yeah, okay, I do, but only because you asked and because I very randomly happen to be in Dublin* for the week and had the opportunity to stop by Boots and sniff all the Lynx stuff they had (which did not include Java or – to my great disappointment – Leather & Cookies) and take notes, which didn’t earn me any weird looks whatsoever.

The things I do for love.

Anyway. We know Jamie is a jack of all Lynx trade and that Colin favours Leather & Cookies. As for (an non exhaustive list of) the rest…

Isaac – our captain of righteous rage and impeccable taste could never choose anything but Africa, advertised (however misguidedly) as the G.O.A.T of scents. There’s sweetness and spice and fresheness reminiscent of good gin hovering over a woody base – it’s not outrageous by any means, but it’s not boring either: nuanced and reasonably mature, it’s a scent worthy of the footballer with the most fashion sense of the entire team. Has enough gravitas for a captain, too, but without weighting him down.

Sam – leans into the quietly playful notes of Excite; it’s a fairly standard pour homme scent but the hints of coconut (almost edging into sweet liquorice) gives it a little twist, turning it warmer and softer than your average man deo. Perhaps it wasn’t his own choice, originally – I can see Simi gifting it to him, and Sam going no, okay, this works.

Dani – would pull off all the muskier and spicer scents so beautifully but is ultimately (and perhaps unfortunately) attracted to the bright fruit of Epic Fresh. It’s vivacious and sweet and unapologetic about being happy and unrefined; carefree, like Dani when jogging onto the pitch.

Jan – has decent taste but does not care to spend too much time thinking about his deodorant; he selects the simple but not basic fruit and wood combination of Black, and sticks with it. It’s a good enough choice; it’ll do and offend no one (and if it does, Jan Maas will not give a fuck because he has more important things to worry about).

Bumbercatch – goes for the sickly sweet, bright pink and unpleasantly chemical Recharge only to confuse his enemies. “What enemies,” you might ask, but our man Bumber simply gives you A Look and does not answer.

Zorro – just likes chocolate, okay? He’s in tune with his emotions and desires and wearing Dark Temptation makes him feel good. We should none of us begrudge him that.

Richard – spits at your Lynx and your hamster of a mother and elderberry-smelling father. His deodorant is expensive and French and rather discreet because he doesn’t want chemical smells to overpower the sublime taste of wine and also there’s something primally attractive about the natural human musk and why would you ever want to drown that out?

Jeff Goodman – selects Icy Chill because he believes the cool menthol notes makes him seem like a tought guy. They do not.

Cockburn – is a man of few words and a gentle heart. He prefers Gold, both for the warm spiciness of its deep wood and vanilla tones, and for gold of it all. It makes him feel a little special, in a quiet sort of way. Cockburn doesn’t really need more than that (at least not from a deodorant); he knows what he’s about and what he’s worth, and if you do not? Not his problem, baby. It’s a solid, simple choice for a solid, simple man.

If I were to assign Java (unsmelled) to anyone, it'd be to Sasha Kukoč because he's my very special secret darling and is (supposedly) young enough to find 90s retro hot.

[sama-not-sam]

Sama "the ambitious" Ali: task 002; the eulogy

It hadn’t occurred to Sama that Mrs. Tristan might expect all of the wards to speak at the funeral. She’d expected to hear something from those who’d been closest to him, Angus, Carmen, Estrella, and probably from Alison, but she certainly hadn’t been planning to speak herself. Sama was here because it was appropriate, because she wanted to honor Richard’s memory and all he’d done for her, and because she’d never felt like she could say no to Mrs. Tristan. She was not here because she had any right to Richard’s life. But, she’d never felt like she could say no to Mrs. Tristan, so Sama would have to come up with something to say.

Sama was a fairly confident public speaker. She wasn’t someone who gave speeches, but she could lead a meeting or present findings when the need arose. The main problem was she didn’t have anything to say about Richard, or at least not anything that couldn’t be said by someone else. It felt a bit like being asked to give a eulogy for a former boss, or one of her college professors. Sama wasn’t qualified for this, and worse, it wasn’t something she would get a second chance at.

All through the service, Sama went back and forth in her mind about her plan, if it was a good one or not, if it would look like she was honoring one of Richard’s passions or like she just couldn’t be bothered to try harder. She refused to acknowledge that she was more concerned about Alison’s judgement than anyone else’s. At least she could find some comfort in the fact that she was closer to the beginning of the speakers than the end. She could get it over with, if nothing else.

Sama waited until Jacob was back in his seat before standing, not wanting to rush anything. She held the book of poetry with both hands as she took to the podium. She tried to look at the other mourners, but couldn’t, instead focusing on some point in the distance.

“Hello.” Her voice sounded too quiet, even with the aid of the microphone, and she had to take a slow breath before continuing, louder and more confident. “For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Sama Ali, one of Richard’s many wards.” Sama paused, losing her train of thought for a moment and unable to remember the transition she’d rehearsed in her head.

“I’m not a sentimental person. It’s not something that’s ever served me. I don’t have anything to share with you about Richard that you don’t already know.” She found herself unable to find a flow of words as she usually did, probably the difference between speaking to a group of coworkers and giving a eulogy.

Sama cleared her throat, and opened the book to the page she’d hastily marked with a bobby pin. She’d been thinking about poems about death since she first received Mrs. Tristan’s letter, and when she found out she was supposed to speak, Sama had slipped into the library in search of one in particular. Under the circumstances, it seemed like the best she could do.

“I thought, maybe, I could share something other than memories, something we all know Richard loved. This is a poem by Maya Angelou, titled When Great Trees Fall.

“When great trees fall, rocks on distant hills shudder, lions hunker down in tall grasses, and even elephants lumber after safety. “When great trees fall in forests, small things recoil into silence, their senses eroded beyond fear.”

Sama began to find her footing as she read the poem, gaining confidence in the familiar cadence of one of her favorite poets. She began to look out over the gathered crowd, meeting the eyes of some of her fellow wards.

“When great souls die, the air around us becomes light, rare, sterile. We breathe, briefly. Our eyes, briefly, see with a hurtful clarity. Our memory, suddenly sharpened, examines, gnaws on kind words unsaid, promised walks never taken. “Great souls die and our reality, bound to them, takes leave of us. Our souls, dependent upon their nurture, now shrink, wizened. Our minds, formed and informed by their radiance, fall away. We are not so much maddened as reduced to the unutterable ignorance of dark, cold caves. “And when great souls die, after a period peace blooms, slowly and always irregularly. Spaces fill with a kind of soothing electric vibration. Our senses, restored, never to be the same, whisper to us. They existed. They existed. We can be. Be and be better. For they existed.”

Sama closed the book and came back to herself, once again uncertain of her choice and unable to make eye contact. For a moment, she wondered if she should say something else, but she couldn’t think of anything, and certainly nothing more eloquent or poignant than Maya Angelou. So she just made her way back to her seat, back straight, shoulders square, eyes trained on the ground.

[batfam-slash]

Tim avoids thinking about his 30th birthday until Bruce reminds him that there are only six months to go.

“I know the last year has been difficult for you,” Bruce says quietly, “and I’m sorry to bring it up again…but we really need to find you a mate.”

Tim doesn’t want to think about this.

If Kon were still alive he wouldn’t have to think about this. He’d be happily mated to an alpha he loves, and he be complying with the stupid outdated law that requires omegas to be mated by their 30th birthday.

But Kon is dead and Tim is unmated, and his 30th birthday is in six months. So he does have to think about this.

If he doesn’t, he’ll be auctioned off to the first alpha that wants him, and in a city like Gotham that can only be bad. He’d like at least some say in the alpha he is to spend the rest of his life with.

The problem is, Tim is late to the party. Nearly all the other alphas he’s friends with or likes or respects are mated already. Tim has spent the last year mourning the man he loves - loved - and now he’s too late.

Kon isn’t here to save him.

“I know you won’t like this,” Dick says to Tim gently one afternoon, “but what about B? He’s unmated. He’d do it for you in a heartbeat if you asked. He’ll probably offer anyway if you don’t find someone soon. And I know it’s a little…ew, but it’s worth seriously considering if it’ll keep you from being mated to a stranger. At least you know B and can trust him. He’ll take care of you.”

Dick never had to worry of course. He had a string of alphas lined up to mate with him well before he was 30, and Jason was one of them.

Jason would have been Tim’s second choice after Kon.

Tim resigns himself to the fact that he’s probably going to end up mated to Bruce, and he should probably be grateful because it could be so much worse.

So he’s pleasantly surprised when Damian turns up at the WE offices and makes him an offer one afternoon.

“Father is going to ask you to mate with him before you turn thirty,” Damian tells Tim, green eyes focussed and serious. “But I wanted to offer myself as your alpha, if that’s something you might want to consider.”

Tim can only blink in surprise. “You want to be my alpha?”

“It’s not a matter of want, Drake. I’d want you to be free to choose your own alpha, but that’s not the world we live in.”

It may be the nicest thing Damian has ever said to Tim.

Damian has always behaved older than his years, but that seems particularly true now. He’s no longer the boy that used to taunt and argue with Tim constantly, but a man who’s earned Tim’s respect and is fiercely protective of his family.

“It’s a big offer to make,” Tim says gently. “You’d be giving up your life for me. You would never be able to mate with anyone else. You’re still so young-“

“I’m old enough to know what I’m offering. I’m not a child anymore.” Damian’s voice softens. “I just wanted to give you some sort of choice. It’s a mockery of a choice really, because you should be able to pick any alpha you want, or none at all, at a time of your choosing. But at least you can have some say in it. Me or Father. I won’t be offended if you choose Father, but know that I offer myself willingly and freely, and I will do my best to be a good mate for you.”

Tim can’t even look at him. “You’ll fall in love with the omega of your dreams one day and will hate me forever when you can’t have them.”

Damian snorts. “I already can’t have them. I’ve loved Richard since I was fourteen and I’ve had to watch him be mated to Todd. I’ve lost my beloved and you’ve lost yours. We are united in that at least.”

Tim doesn’t think he’s ever seen this level of vulnerability or openness from Damian before. He really is a man now.

“I guess we are.” Tim smiles tiredly. “Dami…you’re sure? This is huge. And let’s not forget you once described me as utterly repulsive.”

“Lies,” Damian replies softly. “I was a child then. You and I haven’t always seen eye to eye, but we’re pack. Richard may be the most beautiful omega I’ve ever seen, but you also come close.”

Tim laughs at that.

Damian spends perhaps another ten minutes reassuring Tim that he wants to do this before Tim accepts his offer.

“I will protect you,” Damian promises before he leaves, bringing Tim’s hand to his lips to kiss his knuckles.

And for the first time in over a year, Tim realises he’s sat through a whole conversation without thinking about Kon.