#i know it helps i enforce med taking on others when they need it

[dredshirtroberts]

okay note to self: it takes approximately 2.5 hours (fed and hydrated properly) for the ibuprofen to kick in enough to give me the ability to move *some*. It does still hurt but oh god is it less than it was.

[reiderwriter]

Please Accept My Apology

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: After three days spent trying to convince the BAU that they had made a mistake, Spencer Reid shows up at your door to offer his apology.

Warnings: enemies to lovers, smut 18+ minors dni, slight age gap, penetrative sex, squirting, fingering, dirty talk, name calling, degradation, hints of bdsm, implied creampie etc.

You can find my masterlist here and my 2024 song fic challenge here (don't forget to send song recommendations to my inbox!)

You never thought you'd ever see the inside of an interrogation room before this week. Now you didn't think you'd ever see the outside of it.

“Y/N, you're brother ran from law enforcement multiple times, if you know where he is you need to tell us or you'll be charged with accessory to murder and kidnapping after the fact. Is that what you want?”

“Of course it isn't what I want, but I already told you I can't fucking help you!”

You paced in the boxed room, feeling closed in and hot.

Your brother - your innocent brother - was the key suspect in a series of child abductions and murders, and as he'd ran from law enforcement multiple times, they'd dragged you into the police precinct to try to track him down.

For the last three days, you'd been stuck sitting at that table across from Doctor Spencer Reid, waiting for the worst news of your life, because you knew it was coming.

“He's not a murderer. He's mentally ill, but he wouldn't hurt anyone. I keep telling you that, why won't you believe me?”

“A lot of loved ones protest a suspect's innocence, right down to the last second.” You couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up from the depth of your chest.

“My brother is schizophrenic. He was violent before, sure, he had outbursts. But he has been monitoring his meds for the last three years perfectly. He has a job, he has a son. He would not hurt those kids.”

You had always looked up to your elder brother, even through the tough years.

He'd inherited both your fathers drinking problem and your mother's mental illness, each demon feeding the other until he had a breakdown at age 19.

You were only 17 yourself, but with no one else to hold him accountable, you'd been there. You'd checked him into a facility, you drove him to each of his doctor's appointments when he was clean. You'd been around for each sober anniversary, for each birthday and holiday and celebration that he'd made it one more year without falling into himself.

He'd reciprocated by being the most reliable man you knew. He helped put you through college when he was stable enough, he'd managed to work his way up in the ranks at his construction job. He had a beautiful wife (currently in another interrogation room with another agent) and the cutest little boy.

He'd promised you that your family struggles would end with the two of you. You'd promised each other to take care of each others families if anything happened to them in the future, and while you currently had no family to speak of, you sure as hell were going to make sure that your nephew never wanted for anything in his life.

Your brother wasn't a murderer, and you had proof enough.

“You know, you haven't asked me yet why I think he's innocent.” You took your seat again, and gathered your hands together on the table, leaning in closer to the agent in front of you.

You watched him think for a second, then mirror your pose, leaning in just as close, eyes locked with yours.

You'd talked about a lot of things these past three days, and you got the idea that he was a bit of a jackass. If not a jackass, then at least big-headed; he'd practically shouted his title of Doctor at you as he'd walked in, and made sure to correct you every time you'd called him agent or sir.

You kept doing it just to piss him off eventually.

“It's denial, Miss Y/L/N. You don't want to see the signs you'd ignored for that lingered, so you beg and protest and plead, hoping that eventually you'll turn out to be correct.” His voice was low, but you caught every word.

“While I am sure you know what you're talking about Agent Reid, that is not why I'm here still. I'm not being charged with a crime, and I've been here much longer than 24 hours. I'm free to go at any point, but I'm sticking around here, lawyer free, because I want to watch your face when you realise you'd been wrong this entire time.”

He shifted uncomfortably and you smiled, happy to get under his skin once again.

“Okay, Miss Y/L/N. What makes you so sure your brother is innocent?”

“Your profile.” His eyes slightly widened at that, and you basked in it, leaning back and waiting for him to take the bait as the tide turned in your conversation.

“We profiled that our unsub would be late 20s to early 30s, probably a family man who'd likely been abused as a child. The profile also suggested he may have had a psychotic break recently, likely as a result of coming off his meds. Your brother fits the profile, Y/N.”

He'd dug his own grave, and you were happy to see him getting ready to sleep in it too.

“No, he doesn't, Agent.”

A tense silence passed between you, and you knew his gaze was fixed on you. You let your eyes dart elsewhere, rolling down his body to his hands. They were totally still of course, but you could see how tense he was by the way he pushed them flat against the table, almost as if he were trying to ground himself, finding reassurance in the pressure.

“How does he not fit the profile?” His brows were knitted together, and his expression was one of annoyance now.

No matter how much you had shouted or let out your frustrations these past few days, he'd kept a placid look of sympathy plastered across his features. He hadn't listened, or even suggested he'd wanted to, assuming your brother was guilty.

Now he was annoyed, as if he had the right.

“Despite what your records supposedly tell you, my brother is not off his meds.”

“Miss Y/L/N, we know that your brother did not refill his prescription three months ago, and that he looked into some clinical trials in the metropolitan area and was rejected.”

“Congratulations for having 50% of the facts. My brother wasn't rejected from those trials, he withdrew because they changed the terms. They wanted to study my nephew as well to see if they could predict where hereditary cases of Schizophrenia would manifest.”

You leaned in again now, enjoying watching the thoughts rush through Spencer Reid's head once again.

“His health insurance had some issues after the withdrawal, so his prescription couldn't be filled until next week, but my brother always had six months of pills delivered.”

You watched the realisation come crashing down on the agent in front of you, though he was doing a good job of keeping himself out together.

It was time to end this conversation.

“To take part in the clinical trial, he needed to stop taking his regular medication for two weeks. Meaning he has two more weeks of his regular medication. I watched him take it Monday morning, right about when your second kidnapping occurred. My sister-in-law will confirm.”

He stood from his chair slowly and nodded at you, making his way to the door.

“And Agent Reid?” You said making sure to hold his attention one last time before he could leave. “If anything happens to my brother, I will hold you responsible.”

He slipped from the room without another word, and you relaxed into the chair, letting your eyes fall shut as you waited patiently.

Xxx

It was another week before your brother was totally cleared. He'd turned himself into law enforcement the same day you'd forced the BAU to reevaluate their profile, and both he and his wife had cracked up your story.

With nothing else to distract them, you'd been happily informed that they'd caught the actual perpetrator, and saved another victim.

You were back at home now, trying to relax, to get back on track.

You knew by the knock on the door that you weren't going to get back to your normal routine just yet.

“Agent Reid, I wasn't expecting you.” He was there at your door, and you had to brush off a wave of annoyance, forcing yourself not to slam the thing in his goddamn face.

“It's Doctor Reid. You know that, though.” He mumbled the words, jaw tense as he heaved out a sigh, trying to get to his point but being distracted by your prickly words.

“I came to talk. May I come inside?”

“We talked for three days straight, Doc. What else could we possibly need to discuss?” You made sure to block the door with your body, one arm resting on the doorframe as you leant across it, the other holding the door tightly next to you.

You thought he'd get the idea, tuck his tail between his legs, and swiftly leave you alone, but you were sadly mistaken.

Instead his eyes raked over your body as you put it on display, curiously exploring every inch you put in his eyeline.

“May I come in?” He repeated, eyes still trailing down your body. If it weren't for the heat building inside of you, you'd have slammed the door in his face. A moment's hesitation was all you got instead, as he locked eyes with you again, and you reluctantly moved an inch to the side.

You stayed there in the doorway even as he entered, his body brushing against yours almost intimately for the second, his hand faintly tracing over your hip as he stepped inside, watching you all the time.

Needing desperately to gain your composure back, you jumped into asking questions. “You're in now. What do you want?”

“I wanted to apologise.” He hadn't moved far into the apartment, and you realised aa soon as you turned away from locking the door, overestimating his distance. You spun right into his arms, one of his palms coming to your waist to steady you as the other steadied the two of you against the wall.

“And whatever would the wonderful Doctor Reid need to apologise for?”

Your words were venomous, but the heat in them rose from somewhere deeper than the acid in your stomach, somewhere more fiery than the burning sensation at the back of your throat.

“I'm trying to do the right thing here, Y/N.”

“After a week of doing the wrong thing, Spencer, I'm not sure you're fully capable of that.”

His brows furrowed as he pouted, and you hated his proximity, both too close and too far at the same time. You wanted to run him apart, and then delicately sew him back together.

“I was doing my job.”

“You almost got my brother killed.”

“I'm sorry.” He heaved out an exasperated breath with the words, body relaxing and pushing your back fully against the wall. His eyes widened, and you could tell that he hadn't meant to move you in that way, but you just stared at him still, eyes flicking down to his lips with every intrusive thought.

This was how close you needed him.

“I don't give a shit if you're sorry.” You meant the words to be harsh a warning, but you hadn't realised your heartbeat bursting from your throat, your breathy gasps for air making it sound more erotic than angry.

He blinked once, then twice, slowly as if he was a scientist observing an experiment, not wanting to take his eyes off of it until he was certain something wouldn't happen.

“You're enjoying this.”

“I'm not.”

“Your heart rate is at 127 bpm, your pupils are dilated, your breathing is shallow. You're enjoying this. Why?”

His hands didn't let up, even as he shot out his words, brows furrowing further as you resisted the urge to push him away.

It was more comfortable keeping him close.

“I told you I am not enjoying this. You're just too close.”

“So, you're having a physical reaction to me?” He asked, almost quizzically. You had expected to hear a triumphant smirk or something in his voice, but he seemed genuinely curious.

“For God's sake, Spencer, yes. Yes, you're close and it's making me uncomfortable. You spent three days making me feel uncomfortable, and now you've come back for round two, are you happy now?”

“You're not uncomfortable,” he shot out again, almost as if he couldn't stop the words from spilling out. “You're aroused.”

“Know it all.” He laughed at that, and you could feel the heat in your cheeks. You weren't sure what the hell was going on with your body, because you'd spent the week despising the man in front of you, but now a simple hand on your wrist and a laugh had you blushing like a schoolgirl.

“So what if I am aroused? You're touching me, you have me pinned against the wall, really this is your fault, Agent.”

“It's Doctor, but you can call me Spencer. Or you can go back to another colourful insult if you'd prefer?”

“You're pretty full of yourself, I thought you came to apologise.”

“I did, it's not exactly me that is acting like they want to be filled right now though.”

“Jackass,” you snapped, as he lowered his hand around to cup your ass, finally allowing himself a tiny hint at the smirk you'd predicted earlier.

You gasped as he took a handful of your ass and pulled you flush against him.

“I want to say sorry, I want to make it up to you. I'm being quite charitable here.”

“Charity, my dear Doctor, is where you give something and expect nothing in return. It seems like you want something in return.” You spat the words again but you let your hands press lightly against his chest, waiting for him to make the next move as you played with the buttons of his shirt.

“I'd be more than happy to do that, too.”

You weren't sure who reached for who, or which one of you made the first push, but you were suddenly joined together by your lips, each of you battling furiously for dominance.

Your hands pushed up desperately, clawing into his long, busy strands and pulling him down further into you as you worked against him.

He was still stronger than you though, so when he forced your head back an inch, you moved out of necessity.

“Is that enough, or should I keep apologising?”

“Nowhere near enough, jacka-” he cut you off by pushing the tip of his thumb into your mouth, using one of his legs to spread yours so he could nuzzle himself between them.

“Why so quiet now? We couldn't shut you up in those interrogation rooms, but now you're so polite and obedient.” You moaned around his thumb as he stroked your tongue, encouraging you to suck it.

You didn't need much instruction, desperate now to show off your superior skills to the man in front of you.

“That's it, show me how much you want it, my little whore.”

His hand slipped into your pants quietly, but you twitched as his hands feathered their way along your pelvic bone, twitching at the sensitivity of the connection.

His hands slipped into your panties and you knew immediately it was over for you. You were so wet, and he was going to be able to tell just how much you apparently wanted him.

You moaned as he roughly pushed your pants down, finger teasing your cunt through your panties as you still struggled to suck his thumb so you didn't make any louder noises.

“You're enjoying this.” It was no longer a question, but a confident statement, no curiosity but simple satisfaction at how good he was making you feel.

He pulled his thumb from your mouth, rubbing some saliva across your lips to make them shine before he turned you around and pushed you up against the wall. Your hands barely pushed out in from of you before your chest collided with the wall, and he was close behind you.

As he coaxed your panties down your legs, you closed your eyes and tried to keep your breathing steady, desperately clinging to some high ground where you could find it.

His fingers were hot and long, and they quickly found your clit and got to work as he ground his hard cock against your bare ass.

His pants were still on, but you could feel the outline of his dick against you, hips rutting back into him with each flick of his wrist.

“Now, come on Y/N. You said it's not charity if I receive something in return, right?” He whispered into your ear as you tried to reach behind you to grab his dick.

“We're going to take this nice and slow, and you're going to enjoy all of it.”

His fingers slowed to an aching pace as he finally pushed a first digit inside of you. His hips finished moving and his free hand held you still too, so the only friction was coming from that one hand between your legs, practically edging you.

“Fuck me, just fuck me Spencer.” You moaned in frustration.

“Doctor.” He whispered in your ear, the glee in his voice igniting your hatred of him all over again.

“What?” You spat out.

“Call me Doctor Reid, and I'll give you anything you want. You want to cum, right?”

His fingers kept their slow pace, and you could feel yourself growing more impatient, even as you grit your teeth together.

“Fuck me, Doctor Reid.”

“What about please?”

“Fuck you.” You instantly regretted your words when he pulled his hands off your body completely, retreating further into your house.

“No, shit, wait.-”

You scrambled after him as he took a seat on your couch, removing his jacket and loosening his already dishevelled tie.

“What do you want, Y/N?” He asked, palming himself through his pants as he watched you practically fall at his feet, needing his hands back on you.

“I want you to f-fuck me, please Doctor Reid.” He nodded slightly, pulling your remaining clothing off as he responded.

“That's a good little slut.” He led your hand over his cock and let you undo the buttons and pull him out. You needed no other instructions as he leaned back and pulled your legs into a firmer position.

You gave his cock a few strokes before lifting your hips and sinking back down onto him.

“So fucking wet for me, you were so aroused, baby.”

He didn't let you control the pace, but held your hips still just above him as he began pushing into you from below, lifting his hips to fill you up with each thrust.

You couldn't bite back the screams as his balls slapped against you, Spencer trying his best to fit his entire length into you with each deep thrust. You wanted to kill the man only an hour earlier, and now you were sure you wanted to have him inside you like this forever.

“Oh fuck, just like that, just like that Spencer please!”

Your hand drifted down to your cunt and you're began to rub feverishly, even as you felt the pressure build up from your gut.

The pressure was almost unbearable and before you knew it you were squirting on his cock, fingers splashing wave after wave of your arousal over his cock and clothes.

“Already squirting for me? I thought you didn't want anything to do with me, Y/N. I guess you are just a little whore.”

You twitched, but couldn't respond, as he began thrusting sloppier than ever before, grunting in your ear as he finally joined you in your mess.

His grip on your hip slipped as he finally started cumning, and you moaned feeling him so deep as he gathered you in his arms and pulled you chest to chest.

You sat there panting together for an eternity before you even thought about detangling your limbs from one another.

“You made a mess of my fucking sofa.” You said as you finally rose up slightly, looking down at the mess beneath you.

“No, Y/N, that was you. I simply helped.”

“Jackass.”

“Whore.”

You gasped as he laughed at you again, pulling your hips back down over his so you couldn't slide off his cock again.

“Don't act so scandalised when I can feel just how much that turned you on. You're enjoying this.”

You pouted a little, but let your head fall back against his chest.

“And what if I am, Agent Reid?”

[andhumanslovedstories]

Hey so your post about pain management as a bedside nurse is so important to my own nursing practice that I've considered printing it out so I can have it to hand all the time. So thanks for that. Also, how do you deal with assignments that are busy enough that pain management is harder than it should be? I'm coming up on two years as a nurse and I feel like I take it personally when I am too busy to adequately manage my patients pain. I'm also coming from a newly unionized hospital where the ratios are still horrendous (I do 1:10 on med surg) and I'm hoping once we can enforce our staffing grids it'll be better but idk I'm burning out and I love my job so much and I really respect your nursing philosophy? I guess. Sorry for the word vomit it's been a crazy shift.

I've been trying to think of how to answer this since I got it. It's just such a horrendous ratio. With ten patients a shift, that's like six minutes an hour for each in a fantasy world where there's no charting and everything is exactly where you need it to be. I feel like I don't have great insight into this because the most med surg patients I've had assigned is five. Ten patients to one nurse is just a raw deal for everyone. Like christ no wonder you feel like you're burning out! I'll give you what thoughts I have and hopefully other people can chime in if they have suggestions. But that's such a hard patient load.

When I've been super swamped, I've found that's when being really explicit about your thinking with the patient helps. Like if I have to dash into a room and then dash back out, I'll make sure the board is updated with the next medication time and that the patient knows when the medication is going to kick in. I'll also provide call light parameters. I have a lot of success telling people, "the med should be doing something by 5:30. If I haven't checked in with you by then, and the pain is unchanged or barely changed, hit your call light and we'll try the next step. Also hit your call light if you feel any sudden change, like now you're nauseated or you have a headache or the type of pain changes or something just feels very wrong. Is there anything you need before I step out of the room?"

I like to be explicit about when to call me because I think there's two directions call light usage can go wrong: someone calls all the time, or someone never calls. With someone who calls all the time, I find that telling them when I'll be back and that I want them to call me if I'm not takes away some of that anxiety that can causes some people to call frequently. Often those patients are afraid that if they aren't on the call light, they're gonna get ignored.

For the other type of patient, the one that doesn't call, I want to make explicit that it's GOOD AND NORMAL TO CALL YOUR NURSE WHEN YOU HAVE SYMPTOMS. We've all had that patient at the end of shift who goes, "btw the gnawing pain in my leg is now a 10/10" and you're like "what gnawing pain sir?? you've literally never mentioned it before now?? I don't have any meds for that lemme page super quick????" These patients can get into pain crises easily because they don't ask for help until something is unbearable. In addition to pain crisis bad, it takes a lot more time to deal with something unbearable than it does to deal with something uncomfortable.

On that note, are you spending your very limited time efficiently? To me, that actually means spend more time talking with patients, at least up front. Manage expectations, make sure people know what to expect. Having conversations with patients that are like, "You just had surgery, it's not gonna happen that we get you completely painless. We want to get you to a manageable pain level that allows you to do whatever it is you most want to do this shift." (For me on nights, that's usually sleeping at least a little, but sometimes the realistic goal you make together is that you will feel at some point better than you feel right now.) "You have this medication scheduled, and you have this one available every X hours when your pain is severe. Is there anything you know that helps you deal with pain?"

Also establish if patients want to be woken up for certain prn medications or if they're sleeping, to let them sleep. With some patients, I will advise them to get woken up for pain medication because I know that they're going to need consistent control to avoid a crisis. (Crises take so much time!)

When I'm crunched for time, I'm fond of bringing in an ice pack and being like "if it works, great, if it doesn't, just take it off, either way here it is." Sometimes I'll do the same with a warm blanket. If I know my patient needs to take pills, I'll bring a cup of water with me into the room. If there's a basic prn like melatonin or tylenol that I think they might want, I'll pull them in advance. If the patient doesn't want them, I return them next time I'm in the med room. (Obviously, don't do this with controlled substances. It's super easy to forget to return them, and not returning opioids is one of those whoopsies people get fired over.)

Decision making takes time. Walking to go get stuff takes time. I want to save the time it takes to assess if the patient needs those things and then walk off to fetch them by just having the things already. If your tightest resource is time, be liberal with resources you can spare. If you're stuck with a patient, do you have anyone you can delegate a prn med pass to? Do you know how to do the absolute minimum charting you need to? Do you have flushes and alcohol wipes and whatever other most common things you need? And since you can't hoard time, if you've got some to spare, ask yourself if there is anything you can do now that will save you time later. If you have five free minutes now and an incontinent patient, getting them up to the bathroom now can save you from taking the time for incontinence care and a bed change later on when they've also sundowned and decide they hate everything but most of all you.

So much of this answer I realize is investing as much time upfront as you can, which I realize is so hard when you are so busy. It sucks immensely that prepping takes much less time than not being prepared does when you don't always have time to prep. Plus when you invest that time to pain plan with patients and do small preventative interventions, I think it also provides some psychological comfort that helps with pain. You're letting them know you're invested and you care and you have a plan, even if you don't have all the time you'd like. That can mean better pain control, which can mean needing to spend less time in that room overall, meaning you can save six whole minutes at some point and maybe even, if we're feeling crazy, get a chance to indulge in that greatest of indulgences: just a real leisurely on-shift piss.

[shhh-secret-time]

Stan Marsh

26 y.o (He/Him)

Soul Synergy: Anything you write on your skin will appear on your soulmate.

Headcanons:

◇ Worked on his father's farm for years, while he didn't want to he stayed for his mom

◇ Shelly moved out and left South Park for a different college. The two aren't close, but they're better than when he was a kid.

◇ He works part-time at the university radio station with Jimmy.

》 Jimmy does most of the commentary, Stan will pitch it sometimes, but he leaves most of the talking to him. Stan is in charge of the music

◇ He has snuck some of Crimson Dawn on air and did the same for Timmy's band. Jimmy doesn't care, but he gives Stan a hard time about it.

◇ Going to college on a sports scholarship, to no one's surprise

》 The surprise came when he almost lost it all.

◇ He struggled heavily with alcoholism when he first moved out of his parents house

◇ Used to go out night after night, being invited to parties and hang out events

◇ It didn't seem like a problem until he woke up with vomit in his hair and had no memory of the last three days.

》 His hair used to be longer but he decided to cut it after that.

◇ It takes the other three to help snap him out of it, not just Kyle.

◇ After that he went and got help, of course the other three had his back. Kyle helped him find the support groups needed around campus. Kenny spread the word of keeping alcohol away from Stan, and Cartman enforced it.

◇ They have a system when they go to parties or out to eat with him. Kenny will give everyone the warning, do not offer him alcohol. Not as a joke, it's not funny. Wanna flirt with him, buy him something else. If you invite him to a party, have some fucking sodas or juice.

◇ Cartman is the next step if for some reason you don't decide to listen. Absolutely embarrasses the person, socially tears them apart. We all know he's very good at turning a crowd on people.

◇ Kyle is the big guns, he lives with Stan. He's his best friend. His super best friend, and he'll be damned if he lets anything happen to him. Kyle's not afraid to let the person know just how small they are and will throw hands if need be.

》 Luckily, it hasn't gotten that far. Most people stop at Cartman.

◇ Stan has worked very hard since then to keep himself clean. He's cut alcohol out completely because he knows how easy it is to slip back into it.

◇ When he feels himself slipping again or tempted, he goes to the gym. He writes a song, goes for a jog, bugs someone with board games, does literally anything to keep his mind off it.

》 His last resort is smoking a cigarette, Kyle doesn't like it, but it's better than the alternative

◇ Stan was able to keep his scholarship but it took a lot of work, and a lot of dedication.

◇ The necklace was a gift from the three boys after Stan's second year clean. They all wrote something up on each line and had Kenny carve it in.

》 Kyle: I'm proud of you man. Keep it up, or I'll kick your ass. -SB

》 Kenny: I am always a call away. I've got you Stan, I love you handsome.

》 Cartman: Don't be fucking stupid. I'm the only one who gets to ruin your life.

(Cartman took up some of Kyle's line. It makes Stan smile everytime he sees it)

◇ It's incredibly corny and off brand for him but he never takes it off, that necklace means everything to him.

◇ He's still the quarterback on the team, and the pressure sometimes gets to him.

◇ He plays basketball with Kyle sometimes, but he's not a fan of getting his ankles rolled all the time so he only does it when he needs to get Kyle to relax

◇ His depression is still there, it never really goes away, but he's got a better understanding of it

◇ Goes to a proper doctor and gets the help he needs. After a few therapist visits, he gets a prescription for it and now here he is.

◇ Since Kenny and Karen live so close Karen helps remind him to take his meds. She leaves him little snacks with every pills.

》 Skittles one day, M&Ms another, Cashews, and then a Reese's cup at the end of the week (I just like the idea of the group adopting Karen, but she adopts them back ya know?)

◇ No one else knows about this, Stan's a bit embarrassed by it but he finds it adorable that she's trying

◇ It makes him want to be better. So he works hard to keep a routine and a method.

◇ When he feels like he hates himself, he showers

◇ When he feels like he hates other people, he needs to eat

◇ When he feels withdrawal or if he's tired, he needs water.

◇ Has a special water bottle that Gary got him.

◇ Begs Kyle to go to the gym with him, he can't go alone he needs his buddy!

》 They end up making it a game. Who can push the other one to giving up.

》 Kyle does a certain number in a set, well Stan does one more. Stan runs for a certain amount of time on the treadmill, well Kyle runs faster and longer.

》 They pay for it in the morning but it's worth it

◇ Was the forever DM in his board game nights. He has all the D&D books, most of them are those special covered ones

◇ The local comic book store knows him well, and they save a book for him when they come out

◇ He still paints minis, for Christmas one year he got everyone's characters! Hand painted them and gave them out

》 He was so proud. And then Kenny lost his character the next session

》 Kenny's character is on the shelf near his books. Forever immortalized next to the players guide

◇ On days where everyone can't make it they play test a different system

◇ Wild Talents -> Superheros

◇ Deadlands -> Cowboys

◇ Traveler -> Sci-fi

◇ Red Market -> Zombie Apocalypse

◇ When Stan finally finishes his campaign and Kyle takes over, it takes him a minute to shift back into being a player! (I'm projecting)

◇ He has Wendy and Nichole over, of course! They can't make it all the time (Nichole has her own campaign that Stan's a part of and Wendy is a busy little lady), so they guest star!

◇ Gets together with Nichole and they plot ways to bully their players. (Rip Kenneth)

》 If people don't feel like playing TTRPGS he's got plenty of board games! (Honestly dude I can go on forever about this. I'm big time projecting, so I'm gonna end it here.)

◇ Stan loves his messenger bag, its got more patches in it then just the deftones on the side

◇ Collects band patches like a punk does for their jackets

◇ Anytime he goes to a local band gig he buys a patch (support local artists)

◇ Of course he has his guitar. Even if I didn't draw it!

◇ Cherry red guitar that he babies, he loves his guitar more then anything else he owns.

◇ Kyle got it for him when they both graduated high-school, it means the world to him

◇ His case for it has seen better days, most of the scratches are covered in stickers people have slapped on it.

◇ Honestly, he's got like one or two that he put on

◇ It's a game around the university: Get a Sticker on Marsh's Case

》 Craig's in the lead.

◇ Like Kyle does with Stan's inhaler. Stan carries insulin in his messenger bag for Kyle.

》 He knows Kyle doesn't pay attention to himself and lets his blood sugar drop so he also carries snacks

◇ The bright pink lighter and the lighter case was given to him by the guys, because that dummy always loses his lighter.

》 Every other day he's asking to borrow a lighter because he lost his

◇ Yet he knows where everyone of his guitar picks are, which is ridiculous

◇ Has a shit ton of them too, carries them in a little case!

◇ Stan will fist fight anyone who touches that brown journal, there's so much in there. (You know that feeling you get when someone asks to see your sketchbook? Yeah.)

◇ Lyrics for Crimson Dawn, poems that will never see the light of day, magic cards he uses as bookmarks,and campaign ideas

》 A few pages that have been ripped out and or burned out. Usually means he's had a bad day and needed to get it out

◇ The other thing he's protective of is his headphones, he's not sure why. There's nothing special about those white headphones. But they're his, and they got him through high-school.

◇ He was actually super happy about his Soul Synergy

◇ He already had a habit of doodling on his skin, so it was a surprise it manifested like this

◇ Kyle does get onto him about how often he marks on his skin. He orders Stan those Body Mark markers.

◇ When pictures or words show up on his skin it tickles, it's like he can feel the marker or pen

◇ That's the only part he hates, it tickles him and he's extremely ticklish (perish.)

◇ Doodles, lists, lyrics, and notes on things to do later. For some reason he's protective over all of them, and it makes him slightly sad when they go away.

It a few hours of sitting still, but it's finally done. Red takes a wipe and swipes it across his forearm, the moist wipe feels good against his skin. It's irritated from being poked over and over again, he can still feel the buzz of the needle.

The wipe reveals the jagged Soundwave tattoo stretching down his forearm. He smiles at it and almost goes to touch it, but stops himself. From the way his tattoo artist glares at him, he knows better.

He tries, he really does, to listen to Red as she goes through the steps on how to take care of it. But it's hard when he keeps staring at it, wondering if his little plan worked.

On the outside, it certainly seems narcissistic to get one's voice tattooed on one's self. But Stan could live with the whispers or the questions if it meant it was on the skin of his soulmate too. It wasn't anyone else's business what it was, that was between him and them.

After all Stan worked very hard to get that recording of him singing, You are my Sunshine, just right.

(Here's the blank if you want it ♡)

[k4ijynxx]

𐙚₊˚⊹ 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐀 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒꒱ ₊˚⊹ ᰔ.

[pt: chica caregiver headcanons]

- she can be very anxious at times

- she is the one who enforces fun the most! She loves to see you happy

- she gives the energy of the nana who winks at you after giving you one more cookie when ur caregiver says no ;3

- she loves to cook with you!

- she always serves you first!

- she loves to color coloring books! She isn’t the best at drawing, but she will try if you ask her to!

- she is the BEST at piggyback rides! She gives them to you all the time!

- she loves caregiver names! She is neutral about anything family related, but she wont mind it most of the time :3 she loves the name Chichi, though!

- she calla you baby girl / baby boy / baby, little one, sunshine, pumpkin, buttercup, cutie, sweetie, stinker, silly, button, babydear, angel, sweetheart, flower, sleepyhead, munchkin, sugar, and baby chick!

- the younger the age, the better she is at caregiving /nsx

- i headcanon that she actually plays the drums, so she helps you out with her at times!

- she loves reading kids books to you! She loves listening to them as well :3

- she can make ANYTHING for you! She doesn’t really have a preference, but when she is really hungry she hopes you ask for a pizza hehehe :3

- shes actually a really heavy sleeper, even after you leave the pizzeria for the night she might sleep in late!

- she loves to play dress up with you!

- she comfortable with most characters caregiving you, but especially bonnie and sometimes freddy! Foxy is neutral, but she has some beef with him cuz he’s a trouble maker, mainly cuz he keeps raiding the kitchen and stealing chica’s pizza. She doesn’t really have an opinion on golden freddy

- shes not the best with singing, as she mainly plays instruments more than singing, but she can hum lullabies!

- she feels really sad when you have to leave, she has so much fun with you and hates to see you go :(

- she isn’t the biggest with rules, but the obvious stuff still applies!

- sometimes the other animatronics help cook with you and her too! Mainly freddy, since he is actually a pretty good cook (when its coming to baking a basic cake with a precise recipe, that is) bonnie helps sometimes, but he has trouble with the instructions. Foxy, however, is banned for life from the kitchen. He cant even cook noodles because he will forget to take the lid off, he is NOT ready for the kitchen

- she is the best with kids out of all the animatronics, mainly because she is so fun!

- she loves to dance with you!

- whenever you make something on paper, she hangs it on the fridge! She sometimes stares at it to admire it as well!

- she loves being a caregiver! She HATES william afton, mainly because he used her dead dog against her, so she tries to make sure you have the best childhood!

- she lets you visit whenever you want! She really loves seeing you!!

- she cant leave the pizzeria, but she does make plans to go to restaurants nearby, even if she cant go there :3

- she doesn’t allow you near the office or the closet, and you need her supervision when you are in the kitchen, especially when you are around knifes or the freezer!

- she loves doing the activity sheets with you! She even sometimes plays the arcade games with you!

- she isn’t the best with independent regressors, she can stress that you get hurt so if you are she has to check up on you a lot

- she loves to style your hair! Even if you have short hair, she still puts hair clips and other things in it! If you have no hair, she gives you head scratches all the time! Well, she gives you head scratches no matter how long your hair is, but whatever!

- she is really good with injuries! She has a med bag that she always has in the same spot so she knows where it is when you are hurt, and knows exactly what to do when you are hurt!

[librarycards]

what sorts of things do you think can help people deal with their mental illness besides therapy/meds? i’m not saying i disagree with anti-psychiatry, and i have had bad experiences with psychiatrists/therapists for multiple reasons, but what kinds of things actually help? i’m on wait lists for free therapy and multiple of them have long way lists and hotlines don’t help me, i feel at a loss. and i kind of feel like being being this mentally ill would be a burden upon any friend/partner i could potentially have. i honestly don’t know what to do bc i haven’t improved in years

first, a clarification: i'm not anti-med, i am only anti-forced treatment. i think you'll find many, though not all, anti-psych (and adjacent) ppl with this view, which is often shoehorned in with broad anti-med shit both because of the dubious history of some antipsych figures and because of strawmanning by pro psych forces. but i digress.

there is no simple solution for crisis/ongoing suffering, especially because the actual biggest help to all of us would be the abolition of white supremacy / ableism / carceral neoliberal capitalism / settler colonialism / cisheteropatriarchy. absent this, we're left trying to fill in the gaps, collectively, as best we can, while always acknowledging that we are putting interpersonal band-aids on systemic harms.

with all that being said, i think the best place to start would be to take stock of what and who you have as resources: are there any friends you feel comfortable sitting beside or watching a movie with, even if you don't feel ready or comfortable sharing "deeper" stuff with them? do you have internet people, or a place where you can shout into the void (like tumblr)? is there a public space you can go to, like a park, where you can at least get out of the house for a little while and be alone among others?

i personally take medication, though i'm tapering one of the last ones i'm on, and chose to discontinue the myriad pills i was prescribed as an involuntary psych inpatient. this isn't because meds are inherently evil, but only because i didn't like who i was when i was on them, nor could i tolerate the conditions under which they were forced on me. absent these meds, i have found other ways to move through my own brainstuff: occasionally weed (e.g. right now), more often forcing myself to sit next to other people who i know will make sure i don't do anything shitty to myself (even if we're not in active conversation). i have a bunch of youtube videos, books, audiobooks, podcasts, etc. on deck.

i have throughout the last few years cultivated an online and in-person community in which i'm not "burdening" / "dumping" my shit onto one or even a couple individuals all the time. you're right that the full extent of what we experience is definitely too much for one other interlocutor to take - we're designed to live in community, not in isolated couples. it's also true that, while occasionally and contingently helpful, a professional counselor or therapist can be inaccessible, abusive/violent, etc. etc.

while you're waiting to experiment with the free therapy you mentioned, it might be a good idea to reach out to people you do trust to have a frank, meta-conversation about your respective relational needs. this can feel weird at first, but i autistically love it, and it's also common in a lot of kink/bdsm communities (of which there's plenty of ND overlap haha). rules can be freeing. you don't have to worry about violating unspoken boundaries when you've spoken them, and established nonjudgemental ways of enforcing them and holding each other accountable when you haven't. in the past, i've established these both verbally and in google docs, etc. i've also established it - and found it especially helpful - in situations where myself and the other person(s) experience different axes of privilege and marginalization. but regardless, it's a great way of self-designing the boundaries that in many cases we expect therapy to do for us - except, without the carceral impulse endemic to the psych practice.

i also think it's okay to acknowledge that you might be a burden sometimes, and that the people who love you will carry you. they know you'll do the same for them. part of being in relation to others is sometimes receiving more than we give - it's part of being alive, being vulnerable. let yourself be cared for, let yourself be heavy. think about how good it feels to fall into bed at the end of the day. rest is the first step to feeling a little better.

[femboyhunting]

Older au questions I have

1: sydney is a doctor- but is he a good or bad one- is harper still around? If so how do they interact

2: what happened to baliey?

3: kylar becomes cruel and awful but what happened to his parents??? Mercy kill? Church involvement? Other???

4: I know Mickie leaves and becomes a DILF but when does he leave- what shoves him to that point? At what time does he decide he needs to be healthy

Sydney is a therapist! He has his own little private practice. My impulse is to say that being a therapist in doltown would be unbearable and frankly impossible so Sydney would move away. But for whatever reason I don't really see Sydney leaving? I think probably part of it is his family. And maybe he wants to do his part in helping others in any way he can. He seems, at his core, to be a truly kind and altruistic person with a lot of empathy for others. And Doltown really does need an actual therapist. He's chronically overworked and develops unhealthy attachments to his clients, but he really does care deeply for them and genuinely wants to help. He works on a sliding scale, and will often take clients for free. It's not very good business practice. His real job is the sex club he opened at the edge of town, though so at least he's getting some amount of revenue to stay afloat. It's actually a pretty nice place, lots of bouncers to enforce strict safety rules. Sydney I think has the most wholesome future, which isn't at all surprising for his character.

Harper might have pushed back, and Syd definitely was hesitant because of this since he didn't even want to see his fucking face, but he was busy at the moment with the attack on the hospital and having lost an arm from it. By the time Harper was even aware enough to be in the know about Syd opening a private practice, he was not very happy but figured he'd let it be as long as Sydney didn't create problems for him. And Sydney doesn't! He really doesn't like the idea that he's not speaking up against Harper but he knows that won't end well. Sydney's just doing what he can to help as many people as he can.

2. I'm not too sure what happened to Bailey. He's an older man now and likely has retreated into more safety. His name still strikes fear in people though. I think someone else must have taken over the orphanage though. Maybe Robin.

3. I wouldn't necessarily say "awful". He just doesn't care. He probably wanted, at some point, to end their miserable lives. If they retained any iota of their former selves their existence must be pure torture. He missed them like crazy, of course. Like their absence as their former selves was a gaping wound in his chest. He'd vowed to care for them like they had him and one day change them back. And then MC/Mikie was gone and everything went wonky. He told himself that he'd be back like always, that his beloved would never leave him. But everything was so much harder to endure without him there. He spent his time searching, he couldn't go about his day normally like everything was ok it was agony. He really spiraled. A year went by before he finally lost hope and decided a life without Mikie wasn't worth it. Long story purposefully vague, he got carted off to the asylum. Then something no one had anticipated happened. From his dark claustrophobic cell, he heard a cacophony of blood curdling screaming, slamming, and horrific wet tearing noises. They had him on so many meds he was barely aware and kept fading in and out. But when he awoke again he was home, and in the cold clammy embrace of one of his parents, the three of them smeared with drying blood. He would discover later that the asylum had been attacked, countless people lost their lives. After that, no one ever saw him again. But he's out there. Specifically, deep in the woods. He's getting better at the occult. He figures that maybe if he gets good enough maybe he can bring his beloved back to him from the other side. It's been so long though, he's hardly the same person he was back then, would he still love Kylar even as he is now? Well, no matter, he could make them. If he could bring them back to him, prove that love truly is eternal, making them love him back would surely not be that hard.

4. I think Mike has always wanted and planned to leave. He has some idealistic plans in the mean time at one point. He though if he could just make the right moves in the shadows, get the right people to trust him, he could dethrone the bastards in power and make a real positive change. He thought there was enough good in the world that if everyone worked together they could save each other. He thought he was real fuckin' smart. He really thought he could outsmart people who have been playing this game since before Mikies papa even creampied his mum. There are some victories sure but the more Mikie learns about how the town is actually run, he realizes that he's dealing with forces beyond his comprehension. And he's just some guy that used his cute ass to get a guy to set fire to some crops. Every victory is so ephemeral and meaningless in the grand scheme of things. Every failure is devastating. He tries so hard and again and again he's reminded that he's in over his head. The traumas only build and build. The asylum, the prison, the way he can't go a day without being assaulted. Trying to get revenge on Leighton and realizing that the people in power create the law so the law will never persecute them. Beaten down over and over, reminded that he is nothing. It's hard to remain hopeful. He wonders if there's anyone who he can trust, anyone who actually cares about him or are they all using him. He isn't even really sure who he is anymore. But he is sure that no one knows him. All they see when they look at him is a reflection of their own desires. All they are is vampires, bleeding him dry. And he can feel himself becoming emptier every day.

It's possible it's not even a conscious choice, really leaving. Near the end he hardly really thinks at all, it's like his head is an overfilled water balloon ready to pop, everything he hears sounds like he's underwater too. He used to go empty when bad things happened to him, his eyes would go blank and he'd just wait until it was over. Near the end, he has trouble coming back, even in the good times. He doesn't really remember much. He doesn't feel human. Maybe one night he's slinking through the shadows back to the orphanage and into his tiny room. It's ransacked, someone's obviously been there. In the back of his brain he has a passive though that nowhere is safe. He rubs the bindings on his arms against the rough edge of a piece of furniture until the loosen and he can rub the angry red rope burns on his wrists. He catches a look at himself in his mirror. His hair is tangled and matted, it hangs in his face. His eyes are wide, bloodshot, and ringed in dark colors from a combination of chronic sleeplessness and bruises. His body is marred by cuts and scrapes and bruises. Dried blood crackles and pulls at his skin uncomfortably when he moves. Another passing thought; if he's ugly will anyone love him? When his abused body finally crumbles in on itself will anyone want to hold him anymore? Is that all he is? A pretty body degrading and rotting day by day?

He doesn't think about it, really. He just stockpiles food and money. Gets a little more withdrawn. Not enough to worry anyone who might stop him. He doesn't think about Sydney or Robin or Kylar. He doesn't think. Everything around him feels so far away. Buys a backpack. A train ticket. And he's gone. No one even worries for a good while, Mikie has a reputation of disappearing and coming back.

[lttleghost]

you're so right in that reblog for real ,i cannot stand how people are so open to trans headcanons until it's a transfem one :/ i'm not transfem myself, but i did have a really rough time coming to terms with my own womanhood! so taking characters i've liked my whole life and interpreting them as transfem is really nice! plus it helped me learn a lot about trans people besides my own specific type and experiences. but people can be so rude and dismissive about it just because... i dunno, harder to relate or something? it's so annoying!

IT'S INSANE TO ME!!! like it's crazy enough that people will hate a female character that shares the same traits as their male fav but for some reason I was just…. not expecting it to happen when… transing the gender of the SAME EXACT CHARACTER

another thing is you'll even see people call their favs "babygirl" and feminine terms or even sometimes "woman-coded" but nooooo they can't be transfem I guess? they're only "babygirl" as long as you can still say they're men!

I'm not transfem either and I've only got a bit of a connection to womanhood but I also really like connecting to trans people who have different experiences from me (also in direct opposition to the ideas that some idiots have about trans women "enforcing gender stereotypes" or whatever, more of the transfem community was (and still is) welcoming of my being no-med no-op, resembling my agab, and using weird pronouns than other transmascs were at the time when I first was discovering myself)

but also while there's some things I really don't care about textually supported headcanons, there's well written media where transfem headcanons just… make more sense thematically and even just in not interfering with the existing text like- I dunno how ppl expect me to interpret Hunter as transmasc when her whole thing is finding an identity outside of the MAN that she is a clone of, and then with my icon and wife Jesse Pinkman because I cannot stop myself from ranting abt her, I understand that there's a lot of things that can be interpreted as her being stealth transmasc… if you can suspend your disbelief enough that this person that has buried the person she really is from people, including herself, under this harmful façade that he's had to adopt to survive has still somehow figured out enough about himself to have already transitioned to the point of passing as cis in an environment where there's multiple individuals that would be incredibly transphobic and have known him long enough that they would know he's trans, like in a show that has a ton of themes about change and revealing true self….. why are you bending over backwards to say this character has already transitioned or has even realized she's trans? and that's not the end of transmasc Jesse being a weaker reading of her character either

like….. I don't understand the need for people to have their favs be EXACTLY exactly like them, like I understand projection and all of that and I think that's good but I think it'd be good for people to learn how to find common ground in identities that aren't the same as theirs, or even think about the differences someone might experience in an identity that is "mirror" to theirs like a very fem transmasc person like myself isn't gonna have the same experience as a very masc transfem person, and it's important to realize that or you're gonna make a lot of bullshit assumptions, but like if you can't relate to the fact that you're still both outside of what is expected of your gender and being trans then like.... that's pretty messed up

this is a pretty disjointed rant and not at all comprehensive but like..... yeah

[seven-coordinated-moths]

(This is a break from my regular bullshit content so if you came here for fanart…sorry.)

I have ADHD and I take medication daily for it so that I can get my work done.

I know people with ADHD who choose to medicate on and off depending on what activities they have planned for the day, and how much they feel focus will be required.

I know people with ADHD who tried medication and decided they didn’t like the side effects and stopped.

I know people with ADHD who have never tried medication because they are okay with functioning just the way they are.

All of these are okay!!!

I’m really not a fan of people telling me I need to “learn to accept myself” when I tell them I am always on my medication. I don’t “hate my real self” I’m not “trying to be neurotypical” and I’m not “hiding who I really am”. I was diagnosed at six which means I’m used to the side effects and am okay with how they effect me. I don’t take my medication for any other reason other than that it makes me feel better. When I can focus and collect my thoughts I am generally happier and it helps me to avoid frustration and unnecessary issues. 

I’m not any less valid than anyone who doesn’t take medication.

Unless someone is abusing substances, let’s not tell them what they can and can’t decide to do for their body.

If you medicate? Great! I’m so happy for you! If you don’t? That’s fine! I’m happy for you too!

For some reason ADHD seems to suffer from a bizarre stigma within the community that borderline toxic positivity must be enforced or else someone is ableist. With anxiety meds, no one in their right mind would say that a person with anxiety should just “learn to love themselves without the drugs” because obviously panic attacks as well as other symptoms are easier to spot. But somehow keeping myself from losing my mind is problematic? Why isn’t it okay for me to prefer being on medication?

I don’t know…this is a ramble, but I’ve had two people tell me recently that I should take my meds less NOT FOR HEALTH REASONS, but just because I need to accept my “real” self and work harder. I’m sick of it…

[mianmimi]

Got bullied at work for……following protocol.

Rant below.

Skip if you don’t wanna sad vibe

I’m seriously thinking of leaving due to this.

I feel like people are so selective on what policies/protocols to actually enforce. And I’m in a damned if I do damned if you don’t position.

Basically I took a patient out of restraints after he fell asleep. Which is the legally correct thing to do btw. There’s literally no reason to restrain someone who is asleep. Another nurse told me to keep him in them, and the tech actually fisted bumped her for saying that. And I’m looking at my passed out patient thinking like….what for. I did take him off cause he didn’t meet criteria. And he was fine for three hours, complied with vitals, meds, etc. and then after three hours he starts back up, gets aggressive with himself, and required security and more nurses to help restrain him again.

I got yelled at by the charge nurse, and she made a snappy comment about “You must want to chase after your patients but I do not,” amongst other passive aggressive things, and told me to keep him in restraints even when he’s asleep. I didn’t reply to her. But I was definitely frustrated. I followed protocol. The patient didn’t meet criteria anymore and so I undid the restraints, and he was fine for three hours meaning those restraints really weren’t needed anymore. What was I supposed to chart? That he was perfectly fine and the restraints were there for convenience? Or just straight up lie? Which I would NEVER DO BECAUSE THESE ARE ACTUAL HUMAN BEINGS I’m caring for.

So now people are getting on my case about it in a passive aggressive way. “You almost got hit in the face,” etc. Yeah but I also don’t want to restrain someone when they’re being stable. That’s imprisonment. And it’s illegal.

And I’m not putting my fucking license on the chopping block for a few hours of convenience.

So while I got chewed out for following protocol, I also get chewed out for not hooking up a monitor that was ordered. I own up to that. But I feel like why am I getting this aggression no matter what I do?

I’m gonna think about it for the next few days, and wonder if place is still right for me. I did learn a lot. But I also don’t feel like I can trust people to trust my clinical judgement. And in that case why the fuck am I even here? 🤷🏻‍♀️

I feel in my gut and heart that I was right. But everyone is saying I should have kept a sleeping patient in restrains.

I just don’t know

I might quit and move back to Arizona to do outpatient stuff again at this point

[insipid-drivel]

Hi there, this is awkward but what does each alter take care of for Insipid?

It's not awkward at all! We all have certain "jobs" that we specialize in that are based on both natural proclivities and on our personalities.

Alex (me) handles most health-related day to day stuff. I make sure the meds get taken on time, refills are called in, and organizers are arranged every week. I also help out with stuff like treating illnesses and injuries. I usually get called a doctor, but I'm really just kind of a permanent med student. Medicine's my thing.

Odd (yes that's his real name) isn't a big talker and usually doesn't say much without at least one insult included. He prefers to write and paint to express himself, but is essentially the epitome of "the one guy that never talks until nobody knows what to do". He's honest, doesn't give many fucks, and contributes to things like writing projects and other crafts. He's the guy we call on when someone needs to be told to go fuck themselves while walking backwards out of a crappy situation. His best friend is Marchosias, and Marchosias talks more than enough for the both of them.

Marchosias is demonic in nature and used to be aggressive and vicious toward Insipid when we were very young. His whole deal was a misapplication of pent-up anger and loathing directed toward Insipid's abusers. He's probably the most stereotypical of the "bad alter" stereotype, but the reason for it is because he didn't understand how to apply his anger and motivation productively. After he learned some manners (read: Cassandra beat the everloving shit out of him), he's become a great guardian and protector. He can break through flashbacks and lucid dreams. He's very chatty, but if I were to sum up his DND alignment, I'd say he's "Chaotic Bastard" all the way.

Sal is the in-brain blorbo. cinnamon bun. precious bab. He's a natural therapist or counselor-type, loves all things cosmetics, and is generally the best boi for if you need cheering up. He and Insipid heckle bad horror movies together. He also handles our self-care, wardrobe, and even gift choices. We will all collectively kick your ass in a Wendy's parking lot if you make him cry.

Cassandra is basically my "twin". She's the eldest of us all and the most protective. She kept Insipid from being diagnosed until relatively recently so we wouldn't end up being institutionalized or not given an opportunity for Insipid to choose what to do with us for themselves. She's a pretty standard "Enforcer", you could say. She's able to induce temporary states of pain asymbolia (can't suffer from pain but can register if you're hurt) and has saved Insipid's life a few times from various circumstances.

Aever is basically my boyfriend. It's kind of hard to explain how it works for us, but his interests and capabilities are especially tuned into Insipid's central nervous system (brain and spinal cord + some other large nerves). He's able to construct mental safe spaces kind of like the Holodeck on Star Trek to provide us with settings to write in as well as safe spaces for if Insipid needs a rest. In cases where Insipid's in a lot of nerve pain, Aev's been able to get in there in ways Cass sometimes can't and shut it down.

That's just what we can do on our own. We're able to work in tandem or in groups. The main six of us are always on-shift and rotate duties based upon the situation and who needs rest. We're able to do things like redirect hypervigilance from C-PTSD, to halting emotional breakdowns, to writing stories featuring us all. Writing is how we got to where we are now, as well as how we stayed hidden for most of Insipid's life. We talked to them as their "characters" would in their imagination, which was also how we were able to develop our own unique identities and even appearances! The dude in our profile pic is a commissioned portrait of Odd. He smokes like a broken stove and doesn't remember how to smile.

Thanks for asking us! If you have a question for any specific one of us, just say so. We can switch pretty fast when we're just typing.

[digitaljust]

Shearline bud trimmer

I got less than 2 grams in new leaf trim from 2 oz. of meds after going through the trimmer and after drying them. I offered a discount and some consideration for the lost weight. When I gave patients spin-trimmed meds, I was up-front about it. I bought it when I got off-kilter on my perpetual grow and had many plants to harvest in a short time. I've been pretty happy with my spin trimmer but haven't used it in close to a year. If patients like the results and it saves the CG time and that time saved is reflected in the price to the patient, it's all good. And if a person pays by weight it's a rip off. You are going to have to re trim everything when you use it. That machine can't trim a leaf stem way down inside the bud. Its getting smellier around the nighborhood so it shouldnt be too long, me and mine'll be enjoying the mother nature powered medicines. My first outdoor crop was four plants, all finished right and were good, but waay to stinky to do again(till the neighbors do) I could smell my girls in august september/october from 300 feet down my drive to the road, kinda scary to me at the time. Some of us are crop farmers and some are perpetually harvesting farmers. No negative connotations, no in between the lines, it is what it is. When both my neighbors have one, so shall I, and we'll all be outdoor croppers. I grew outdoors too, and was a cropper there for the same reasons.I'd like to see more people growing outdoors, and I am, every once in awhile a new awesome outdoor goes up in plain view around here. Think of outdoor growers who grow their year supply outside, not a whole lot of choice there, except to crop the finished garden at the end of the year, dry it, and divide it among your patients, or hold on to some and supply as needed, either way, cropped all at once. In time I learned to perpetually grow my supply, then patients plants fit in easily given enough space. I cropped my whole garden at the same time. I was a cropper too, when I was a first time grower. So, thats why I defined it properly, I figured at least one poster would be offended and wanted to explain. I know caregivers who do not run a perpetual garden and I don't consider them 'croppers'. However, under the California State law, sale is illegal, but non-profit distribution may be allowed to some extent.The term "croppers" sounds kind of negative imho. A good dispensary is one which maintains its integrity and records and it does not take much time for law enforcers to close an open dispensary if it is found that things are not being conducted according to code.Īlthough marijuana dispensaries, delivery services and clubs are in business in California, the sale of this substance as well as any other type of cannabis is strictly illegal under the federal law. Opening a California medical marijuana dispensary means that you have done your homework and know what it takes to open the dispensary according to the laws of your state. However, to be able to open a California medical marijuana dispensary, it is important for you to make sure that you are familiar with the state as well as the federal law. Physicians believe that marijuana contains healing properties and can help people suffering from debilitating medical conditions such as cancer, persistent muscle spasms, glaucoma, seizures, AIDS, etc. Shearline Trimmers (855) 980-0121 2102 Front St, North Vancouver, British Columbia, V7H 1A3, CanadaĪre you considering opening a medical marijuana dispensary in California? Medical marijuana is legal in almost 14 states in US including California and a large number of people today are resorting to this substance as a means of recovering from their medical conditions. Our Products SHEARLINE MASTER SYSTEM SHEARLINE INDUSTRIAL XL With harvest season coming very soon, it might be a good idea to review the latest offerings of automatic bud trimmers before you bite the bullet on a new trimmer. Of course, newer technologies may confuse or even overwhelm you with better features, which might throw you off-track if you have narrowed down your choices for bud trimmers. And with technology evolving all the time, manufacturers of bud trimmers churn out newer technologies to develop even more efficient machines. Some can do dry, while others can do both wet and dry. One of the things you need to get greased up is your bud trimmer that will handle the sun-grown cannabis you will be harvesting.īud trimmers come in all sizes with different trimming capabilities and similar features, including quick cleanups. And with it comes the task of preparing your tools and machinery to get the job done of processing your harvests.

[mackeydoodledoo]

Job Struggles

Pairing: Kim Burgess x (Firefighter Wife!)Reader

Original Request: If possible could you do a Kim Burgess x Firefighter Wife Reader where reader works at firehouse 51 on Squad 3 with Kelly and the others and while they are on the way back to the station after responding to a call Reader gets a call from Kevin saying that Kim was shot reader start to lose their mind with fear and anger in the truck and when they get to med and reader sees Kim the way they are reader has a complete emotional break down (this takes place in 8×16

Summary: Being in Chicago's biggest law enforcement branches is a grueling job. For both you and Kim Burgess. However, has given you Perks as you were super close with Intelligence. However, after working a call, you get a call form Kevin Atwater.... En Route back to 51...

Warnings: Near-Death (Kim), Panic Attack/Mental Breakdown

Key: Italics = Thoughts, +*+ = Time Skip, Bold/Indent = Walkie Comm

Theme: The Scientist - Coldplay

A/n: None

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

“I think Sarge will move on the crime ring to apprehend Roy Walton,” Kim says, putting on a long sleeve shirt

“Must be nice getting all that action,” You sigh, clipping your belt on

“Oh I’m sure you’ll be saving lives,” Kim says, turning to you as you finish putting on your work shirt, “Getting to run into fire... Save people... Risk your life...”

“Kim,” You start, wrapping your arms around her hips, “The PD do the exact same thing, but you kill people if that was your last option... We try to prevent lives from being taken and take down fires.”

“Don’t you also take care of hazardous waste?” Kim asks, “You are apart of Squad 3 after all.”

That part was true. You were apart of Firehouse 51′s Rescue Squad 3. It wasn’t very common for females to be apart of the rescue squad. However, you wanted to make it so that you were the first female to become apart of Squad 3. Now here you were...

“It's not that big of a deal,” You sigh, “I’m not Lieutenant Severide, or the driver/engineer... Just someone who's on the Squad.”

Kim scoffs at your modesty.

“It may not be the most glamorous job ever to exist, but, you do all the heavy-lifting,” Kim says

“Actually that’s everyone in the department, regardless of what your position is,” You clarify, “I’m just the one who does it a little bit more...”

Kim presses her palms against your toned biceps, giving them a firm squeeze.

“Hmm... That’s still hot though,” Kim flirts, “Hotter than Ruzek.”

Your snort bursts into a laugh; you knew of Kim’s history with him. Although you initially resented each other due to both of your feelings towards Kim, you won in the end. However, the both of you began growing a friendship after awhile. He helps you keep tabs on Kim while at work or her and Makayla when you’re doing a double shift at 51.

“Do you think you’ll be home tonight?” You ask

“Don’t know,” Kim sighs, “Intelligence has been at this for the last couple of days. Sarge has been working us hard...”

“Hmmm,” You sigh, tilting your head downward to her ear, “When you bring that cute ass back home I’ll work you hard...”

You force your knee between Kim’s legs as you press it against her crotch. She lets out a startling moan as she pushes you away from her.

“If you continue to do that to me, We’d be late for work,” She smiles

“You know I’d risk being late for work,” You smirk

“Careful there Ms. Firefighter,” Kim says, tugging you by your belt, “Don’t forget that I’m. cop...”

You hear metal click against one another, you see her handcuffs. 

+*+

Coming home to the apartment by yourself was an odd feeling but not a new one.

“Y/n!” Makayla runs up to hug your midsection

“Hey kiddo,” You smile, putting your duffle bag onto the ground

“Hi Mrs. Burgess,” Gabby greets you with a smile

“Gabby, for the last time, you can refer to me by my first name,” You chuckle, “No need for formalities. did this one behave while Kim and I were out?”

Gabby nods, “Made sure she did her homework as soon as she got out of school, 

“Hey, have you heard for Kim at all today?” You lean in close to Gabby, hoping that Makayla would hear Kim’s name 

Gabby shakes her head, “She hasn’t been here since I got here this morning.”

“Okay,” You sigh, “Thank you Gabby, drive home safe.”

Gabby nods as she gathers her things to make her leave for the night. You tuck in Makayla into bed as you walk out into the kitchen to get yourself something to eat. 

+*+

The next morning you opened your eyes, still half asleep. But you were hoping that you felt Kim’s arm around your midsection; nothing. 

Maybe she crashed with Ruzek or Atwater...

You help Makayla get dressed, get her breakfast and the both of you hop into your car.

“You remember what you and Kim talked about?” You ask her, helping her with her backpack

She nods.

“Good,” You smile, patting her on the head, “Have a good day at school kiddo!”

You watch her talk off from your car and into her school. You watch her catch up with her homeroom teacher. You drive off to Firehouse 51 to start your day.

“Hey Y/n, whoa everything okay?” Severide asks

“Kim hasn’t been home since before we both left for work yesterday morning...” You sigh, “I’m worried...”

“Has anyone else from Intelligence gotten in touch with you?” He asks

“I figured they were busy, so I didn’t really reach out to anyone,” You say

“That is true, we did hear them asking on a big case,” He says

Before the both of you could converse further, the alarm goes off.

Truck 81 Ambulance 61 Squad 3 Structural Fire at [Insert Random Chicago Address Here]

You and Severide share a look of ‘oh boy’ before rushing to your turnout gear.

+*+

You take off your helmet as the truck roars, groaning from the amount of pressure growing; the fact your wife hadn’t returned home last night and the structure fire was a little more than you had bargained for. You and the rest of 51 were riding back to the station after taking care of a hazardous fire. Your squad just sat in silence as the truck makes its ambient noises. However, an extra sound echoed throughout the truck’s interior.

Shit...

You reach into your no-longer secret compartment in your area of the truck and low and behold; it was your phone in particular.

“Y/n, you knew the rules, no phones while we go out on calls,” Joe Cruz states

“I know that,” You sigh, “Intelligence and all of PD are on an important investigation and Kim hasn’t gotten back to me since before work yesterday... Both by phone and physically returning home.”

“Joe it’s fine,” Severide states, “Good thinking you didn’t have it on you out there.”

Once you finally look down at your phone, you see Adam’s name come up. Immediately you pick up the call.

“Kevin?” You speak

“Finally!” He says, “I’ve been trying to reach you for the last hour!”

“Sorry, was taking care of a hazardous fire,” You summarize, “What’s going on? Why hasn’t Kim reached out to me?”

“That’s just it, Kim was kidnapped and is in the hospital,” Atwater states

Your heart drops. You nearly let your phone slip out of your hands

“I need you to get to Med as soon as possible,” He says, “Since you’re her next to kin.”

“I’ll try...” You say, hanging up the phone

That was when you unconsciously let your phone slip out of your hand. It startles everyone and the attention draws onto you. However, they were unnerved; your face had gone pale, cold sweat began emitting from your pores, your eyes: saying they’ve just seen a ghost, the way your fingers were heavily fidgeting with one another... 

“Tony...” You call out to him, “Take me to Med.”

“I need to get the rig back to 51,” Tony states

“Tony, just get to Med, I’ll contact the rest of the rigs and Chief Boden,” Severide states, “Whatever it is Y/n, We’ll get you there okay?”

No words could exit your mouth, you could only nod and continue sitting in utter silence as your fingers continued to fidget. 

+*+

You nearly break the glass of the sliding doors as you rush through the doors of the Trauma floor.

“Y/n Burgess?” Maggie asks you

“Yeah, that’s me,” You say, “Where’s Kim?” 

“Follow me,” She says

As you enter the hospital rooms. you see the Intelligence department. Atwater was the one who stood up to follow you.

“How long was she here for?” You ask him

“Since last night...” He explains, “She didn’t have any of her equipment so it was hard to exactly find out where she was...”

“Maggie, how bad is it?” You ask

“She had lost a lot of blood by the time she got in,” She explains, 

You didn’t even open the door to Kim’s hospital room, the view from the door’s window was enough to send you onto your knees. 

“Oh my god!” You yelp

Atwater catches you just before your legs gave out. He places his hand against your palm as you sob into his shoulder.

“Y/n, she did survive her surgery,” Maggie adds, “But, barely. We don't know when it’ll be until she wakes up.”

“So basically...” You sniffle, re-composing yourself, “It’s just a waiting game?”

She nods, “But, your best bet is to be there for your kid right now. I’m going to keep Intelligence and yourself.”

You nod, agreeing.

+*+

In all honesty, it was difficult.... To keep the fact Kim almost died from Makayla until Kim was awake. You sit at her bedside, she was still unconscious as the monitor tracking her heart rate kept a steady beat, filling the silent room with white noise. You look down at your watch and stand. However, instead of putting your Squad 3 Jacket on, you place it over Kim’s upper body, carefully, making sure it didn’t snag on any 

“Why hasn’t Kim come back home yet?” Makayla breaks the question to you

You stop coloring with her and stare down at the coloring page.

“Y/n?” Makayla tries to see your face

“Kim had to do some hero things at work. And some heroes get hurt, so they have to go to a certain place to get those boo boos treated, or else they wouldn’t get better,” You try to explain to her, trying to downplay that Kim almost died

“Can we go see her?” sHe asks

You contemplate... You didn’t want Makayla seeing Kim laying in the hospital bed, unconscious.

“Yeah,. yeah we can,” Was what came out of your mouth

+*+

You knock on Kim’s door as you slowly open it for Makayla. She rushes in and holds Kim’s hand carefully.

“Hey stinkers,” She smiles, sighing

“How are you feeling?” You ask her

“Better,” She smiles at you, “I should be able to come home in the next few days

You nod.

“Thanks for the jacket,” She smiles, gesturing to the one she kept in her lap, “Missed you.”

“Missed you too...” You sigh

“And how is our little girl?” She changes her view to your daughter

“I’m good,” She smiles back, “When are you going to come home?”

“As soon as the doctor clears me,” She tells her

The three of you hear a knock at the door, causing you three to turn to them.

“Hey doc,” Kim greets him

“Are you?...” He asks

“Y/n Burgess,” You say

“I have good news,” He says, “Kim is all cleared to return home. But, she needs to be at home until her wounds fully heal.”

“Done,” You say

+*+

Kim’s POV You had just changed into your PJs for the night however, you needed to change the bandages before you went to bed. 

“Need help?” A voice calls out to you

You turn around carefully and see your wife in the doorway.

“Your wife’s fine, thanks,” You try to play it off

However, you weren’t thinking and wench in pain at your gut. You feel Y/n’s presence right down your neck as you felt her body heat. 

“I got it,” She says

She walks to be in front of you, but then kneels down as she carefully places her palms on your ribcage as she removes the soiled bandages and gently places them over the new ones. 

Y/n’s POV You shift your eyes upward to see Kim’s eyes shifted to you. watching you. You lean forward and place the most gentle kiss you could ever give right on top of the bandaged wounds. You look up at her and listen to her deep sighs as you put another kiss on the other wound. 

“What are you doing?” She hisses

“Making these heal faster,” You smile

However, she begins catching on when you begin kissing higher. However, she stops you and brings your face close to hers.

“You have work tomorrow and you need rest,” Kim says, “Once I’m fully healed and back into work...”

She tugs on your shirt and leans towards your ear, her lips nearly hovering over it. 

“I’m going to work you hard...” She whispers 

You chuckle as she readjusts herself and settles her hands against your shoulders.

“I’ll count on that,” You smile

Without giving her much work, you lean down slightly and kiss her. 

[red-jaebyrd]

She Made Everything Better

Summary: Dick has his first cold since moving into the Manor with Bruce. All he wants is the one person he can’t have – his mom. Bruce does his best to fill the void as well as helping an ill and still grieving boy find safety and security in his new guardian.

For @ckbookish

There are many things that Bruce wasn’t prepared for when he took in 8 year old Dick Grayson. Little things like enforcing bedtimes and daily baths; to big things like no swimming in the pool alone and making sure Dick stayed off the front foyer chandelier…or any chandelier in the Manor. The other was taking care of a sick child.

Dick had only been living in the Manor for six months and had yet to come down with any kind of illness. Considering all the stories Bruce had been told by well-meaning co-workers of their kids coming home frequently with colds; he considered himself fortunate that Dick had remained cold-free.

Until one morning when he could hear faint coughing coming from the bedroom down the hall.

“Bruce,” Dick cried, dragging out his name followed by a series of more wet coughs.

Oh no, Bruce thought to himself. Those coughs didn’t sound good at all. He followed the cry and coughs to Dick’s room and saw the boy laying down on his bed bundled in blankets and surrounded by discarded tissues. His cheeks were flushed, his nose was red, and eyes were glassy.

“Hey buddy, what’s wrong?” Bruce asked, sitting on the edge of Dick’s bed.

“My head hurts, my nose won’t stop running, and I’m coughing,” Dick answered, pulling his blankets up to his chin.

Bruce quickly went through a mental checklist of what the boy might need while dealing with a cold. By the looks of the boy’s flushed cheeks, he likely had a fever. What was that saying, ‘feed a cold, starve a fever’; that didn’t sound right to Bruce.

Dick coughed and then groaned, snapping Bruce out of his thoughts.

“Why don’t you drink some water. It’s important to stay hydrated,” Bruce suggested, walking over to Dick’s nightstand and handing him his water bottle.

“No,” Dick whined with a pout pushing the water bottle away. “Water tastes gross, and it hurts when I swallow.”

“Understood,” Bruce said, a bit bewildered by Dick’s whining. Set the water bottle back onto the nightstand. He sat on the bed in front of Dick reaching to feel Dick’s forehead with the front of his wrist. Dick shivered at the contact. “You feel warmer than usual. I’ll be right back with a thermometer.”

“No,” Dick moaned, reaching his hand out for Bruce from under his blankets. “Don’t leave me.”

“I know you’re feeling bad, Chum, but I need to get a thermometer to see if you have a fever,” Bruce soothed, sweeping Dick’s sweaty bangs from his forehead. He smiled, taking Dick’s hand in his and squeezed it gently. “I’m not leaving I’m just going to your bathroom to get the thermometer.

Bruce walked toward the en-suite bathroom in search of the thermometer but came up empty. He searched all the cabinets, and they didn’t even have any children’s medicine, just polysporin, hospital grade antiseptic and, tons of band-aids. Bruce could have sworn they had children’s Motrin, but sadly there was none.

“Hang on, I’ll be right back,” Bruce said, closing the bathroom door and making his way toward the bedroom door.

“No, don’t leave,” Dick pleaded, reaching out frantically to Bruce this time with both hands. His eyes welled up with unshed tears. Bruce shoulders slumped and he sat down one the bed again, taking Dick’s cold hand in his and rubbing soft circles with his thumb.

Bruce furrowed his brow in concern at Dick’s behavior. It was extremely unusual for Dick to be this clingy and demanding when it came to Bruce. The two did spend more time together now that Bruce had changed his schedule a few months ago. Dick did like to seek attention from his guardian in the most heart stopping ways imaginable. Bruce quickly recalled the first and last time Dick backflipped off the second landing stairs nearly giving Bruce and Alfred a heart attack.

As Bruce had gotten to know Dick, he had learned that the boy liked being with people; liked spending time with Bruce and once Dick had got his fill of ‘peopling’, he’d be off outside or in his room playing alone. The boy liked attention, but he was far from clingy.

“Dick, I’m not leaving. I’m just heading to the intercom near the door to speak to Alfred,” Bruce explained, using his free hand to gently card his fingers through Dick’s hair and resting his hand on the boy’s cheek. “I’m not leaving.”

“Okay,” Dick sniffed, letting go of Bruce’s hand to rub his face with his blanket.

Bruce wrinkled his nose and handed Dick a fresh tissue from the discarded box on his bed. He then headed to the intercom near Dick’s bedroom door and pressed the button hoping Alfred was still in the kitchen.

“Alfred, I need a thermometer. Can you bring one to Dick’s bedroom, please.”

“Right away, Sir,” Alfred answered promptly.

Bruce turned and gave Dick a small smile, but the gesture wasn’t returned. He expected as much considering how poorly the boy felt. It warmed Bruce’s heart to know that Dick found security and safety in his presence. A little hand reached out to him from under the blankets. It made Bruce chuckle, so he made his way back to the bed and sat down taking Dick’s hand. Dick slouched low against his pillows blinking tiredly at Bruce.

“I wasn’t going to leave you. I told you I wasn’t,” Bruce reassured, trying to tuck Dick’s duvet around him with one hand and failing. Dick let go so Bruce could finish with both hands. “Do you want anything to eat?”

Just as Dick was going to answer Alfred arrived with a thermometer and a fresh box of tissues. He handed the thermometer to Bruce and set the tissue box on Dick’s nightstand. He then proceeded to collect the dirty tissues and deposit them in the trash bin.

“Will that be all, Sirs?” Alfred asked, moving the bin closer to the bed so it stayed within Dick’s reach near the nightstand.

Bruce stayed sitting on the bed and gave Alfred a rundown of all the supplies that they would need while Dick blew his nose. As usual Alfred had a pen and notepad on hand and wrote down everything.

“Anything else? Master Dick, would you like something to eat before I go?” Alfred asked, tucking the notepad and pen into his front jacket pocket.

Dick didn’t answer Alfred right away. The boy looked lost in his own thoughts, but mostly he looked tired. Poor guy, Bruce thought to himself, he must be feeling so out of it.

“Dick,” Bruce whispered, gently squeezing Dick’s hand to get his attention. Once the boy’s glassy eyes met his, Bruce took that as a sign to continue, “Are you hungry?

“Oh um –“ Dick stammered, and started playing with the hem of the duvet. “Would – would it be okay to have toast with cinnamon on top, please?”

“Certainly, young sir. I’ll get to it straight away.” Alfred replied and left the room closing the door behind him.

Bruce proceeded to take Dick’s temperature and just as he suspected after the thermometer beeped; he frowned looking at the number on the screen. Dick had a fever. Bruce was trying to remember if he should call a doctor right away or if he was supposed to wait two or three days if nothing improved. He’d likely call Leslie today just to be sure.

“Is it bad?” Dick asked, bringing the blanket up to his eyes.

“Well, it’s not good, 102.2, buddy. We’ll keep an eye on it. Make sure it goes down with meds. If not, I’ll have to call Dr Thompkins,” Bruce clarified, turning the thermometer off and setting it on the nightstand. “So cinnamon toast?”

“Mom would always give it to me whenever I got sick,” Dick swallowed thickly, looking down at his blankets. “She – she said the cinnamon had healing properties that would help make me feel better.”

“I’m sure it did,” Bruce said, brushing Dick’s bangs away from his face. “Moms are good like that aren’t they?”

Bruce tried to give Dick a smile, but it felt stiff on his face as he fought against the lump forming in his throat at the memory of his mom making him chicken noodle soup whenever he got a cold. He remembered loving the noodles and the broth but like all kids his age, Bruce hated the chicken and veggies. Over the years the soup was something that Alfred had tried to replicate, but to no avail. It just wasn’t the same. It wasn’t his mom’s soup.

“My mom would –,” Bruce sniffed and then cleared his throat, but before he could finish his sentence; Dick’s face crumpled, and he started sobbing.

In the short time that Dick had been staying at the Manor, he had only cried a handful of times. Even after a nightmare, tears spilled down silently. Dick was always quick to wipe the tears away before Bruce could fully envelop him in a hug. Always pulling away from the embrace claiming he was fine as the tears continued to fall down his cheeks. Bruce had never pressed as he never felt he had the right words to say. Because ‘I know how you feel’ and ‘I’ve been there too’ didn’t really seem like great words of comfort.

But maybe they were the exact words that Dick needed to hear.

“Oh Dickie, come here,” Bruce offered, his arms outstretched and his own eyes filling with unshed tears. He gathered Dick in his arms and settled him on his lap. The boy practically melted into his embrace.

“I don’t feel good, Bruce,” Dick bawled, his breaths hitching from crying so hard. “I want – I want my mom.

The last sentence was said in a whisper in between sobs. Dick’s fingers tightened as he clung onto Bruce in a desperate hug.

“I m-miss her,” Dick mumbled, trying to catch his breath and failing. “I miss how – how she made everything better.”

Bruce’s heart sank; his own tears finally falling down his cheeks. She made everything better. It echoed in brain and he couldn’t deny that the boy was right. Of course, Dick missed his mom; it made sense that he missed her. Every child who felt ill wanted their mom to be the one holding them, taking care of them, and making their favorite comfort foods; not some stranger they’ve barely known for six months.

He hugged Dick a little tighter and sighed. They had come a long way these past six months, dealing with Dick’s anger and trust issues that had only been fueled by Bruce’s incompetence and neglect in the guise of protection. While necessary changes to his schedule were made to fit Dick into his busy life and it had changed the dynamic in how they interacted with each other; the change still didn’t do much to help Dick feel safe enough to talk to Bruce about the loss of his parents. Until now, so naturally Bruce took advantage of a missed opportunity.

“I know you do. I know you miss her so much and I’m so sorry,” Bruce empathized, resting his cheek on the Dick’s head and rubbing small circles on his back. “I know – I know how you feel, chum. I really do. I’ve been where you are and it – well it sucks.”

Dick nodded in silent agreement and continued to cry.

“I know it feels like – it feels like the pain is so much bigger than you, but one day it won’t feel so big and overwhelming,” Bruce comforted, wiping away his own tears with his free hand. “And – and while the hurt won’t go away completely. It will get better in time. For you, that I promise.”

Bruce continued to hold Dick as his body calmed from his crying jag. The boy’s breaths slowly regulating from shuddering gasps to hiccups. Bruce was happy to finally be able to provide such comfort to Dick after so many months of him pushing him away. His feelings were never hurt from the boy’s rejection, Bruce understood firsthand that type of vulnerability and transparency in grief can be scary, especially in an unknown environment.

He had hoped that their conversation today would help pave the way to more talks and further healing for Dick. Bruce was confident the boy would be alright, but these difficult conversations had to be something that Bruce initiated and participated in as well.

“Any time you want to talk ab out your mom or your dad; come find me, okay?” Bruce offered, giving Dick a reassuring smile. He wiped away Dick’s remaining tears with his thumb. “Even if it’s in the middle of night. Understand?”

Dick nodded, his breaths finally evening out.

They sat on the bed in companionable silence. Bruce hummed a tune he remembered his mom singing whenever she was knitting or just needed to fill the silence. He could slowly start to feel Dick’s body going boneless against his chest with exhaustion; his breaths gradually getting deeper with sleep.

Just as Bruce was about to close his eyes a knock on the door startled him and woke up Dick.

“Here is your toast, Master Dick,” Alfred announced, setting a tray on the other side of the bed. “I also added a few digestives and the last juice box until I can get the apple juice you requested.”

“Thank you, Alfred,” Dick sniffed, still clinging onto Bruce.

Bruce brought the tray closer to Dick so the boy wouldn’t have to move from his place of comfort.

“You are very welcome, young sir. If there is nothing else you require of me, I shall leave to retrieve the necessary items.”

An hour later, once Alfred returned with the medicine, Bruce was pleased to finally be able to give the boy some much needed relief from the headache and congestion. Dick still wouldn’t let Bruce leave, so Bruce suggested they move to the media room to watch a movie.

Bruce covered them with a blanket thin enough to make Dick comfortable, but not too thick to spike his fever. Dick settled himself right up against Bruce’s side, draping a thin arm around him and using Bruce’s chest as a pillow. Dick fell asleep ten minutes into the movie. Bruce stayed watching the rest of the movie, carding his fingers gently though Dick’s hair relishing the closeness and comfort he was finally able to provide his hurting foster son.

[doctorstethoscope]

The Right Chapter 4 || Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Hi besties we’re back besties :)))

Read previous chapters of this fic here!

 contains: brief mentions of a gun and domestic abuse, the beginning of ~feelings~ between hotch and reader

wc: 3.1k

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the smell, which Reid would tell you was interesting, because smell is the sense that we lose the most in sleep. Hence, smoke alarms. Shaking the thought away with a fond smile, you padded into the kitchen slowly, finding Aaron with his jacket and tie long discarded, his shirt unbuttoned at the top and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. 

“It smells so good!” You announced. 

“It’s olive oil and garlic.” Hotch chuckled as he turned away from the stove to face you. “And you’re supposed to be sleeping.” 

You craned your neck to look at the stovetop clock behind him. “I slept for three hours, Hotch. And I’m sure you’re going to enforce my full eight hours later tonight.” 

“Well, this isn’t ready yet.” He said. 

“Really? You aren’t just feeding me oil and garlic?” You quipped. 

“Don’t be a smartass,” he smirked at you. 

“I want to help,” you told him earnestly, looking up at him from where you’d perched yourself in one of the barstools at his counter. “What can I do?” 

“Here, chop this onion,” he said, sliding everything you’d need across the counter so you could stay seated. 

He moved around the kitchen gracefully, combining ingredients and stirring a sauce and boiling water for pasta with the ease of a practiced chef. He refused to tell you what he was making, and you leaned forward in your chair, trying to see if the spices by the stove would give you any clues. They didn’t, but before you knew it, Aaron was plating pasta with chicken and mushrooms and broccoli in a sauce that smelled heavenly.

 “Will you tell me now?” You whined as you both sat down at the table to eat. 

“It’s nothing special, really.” he laughed at your antics. “It’s pasta in a lemon-dill cream sauce.” 

“You’ve been holding out on us,” you accused as you took your first bite. “Aaron, this is delicious.” 

He smiled back at you, trying to ignore how much he loved hearing his first name come rolling from your lips. “Well, you helped.” 

“Please. I chopped vegetables and used the can opener. I certainly did not, and could not, whip up a lemon-dill cream sauce on a moment’s notice.” 

You continued to banter over dinner, laughing and smiling in a way it felt like you hadn’t in weeks. Aaron, ever-efficient as he was, had handled most of the cleanup as he was cooking, so all that was left was packing up the leftovers and putting your dishes in the dishwasher. When you closed the fridge, Aaron spoke up again. 

“So, Jess is supposed to drop off Jack tomorrow.” Aaron mentions, with a certain forced casualness. 

“Oh, I can be out of your hair.” You said with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.  “I’m sure I can stay with Emily--”

“Woah, woah, slow down.” Aaron stopped you. “I’m not kicking you out. I was just going to say, I can ask Jess to keep him for a little while longer.” 

“Hotch, no way. He’s your son. I’m not kicking him out of his own house or keeping him away from his father.”

“Of course you aren’t. I can go visit him at Jess’s place and when you’re comfortable with him, he can come here.” 

“I’m plenty comfortable with Jack.” You assured him.  “I just meant, won’t it be weird for him, if I’m here? And I don’t want to intrude on your time with him.” 

“You’re not an intruder. Jack loves you. And I--” he started to say something, but caught himself. You decided not to think too hard about it. “I would be happy to have you here, with him.” 

You still felt uneasy-- you knew his time with Jack was precious. You took a deep breath, preparing to strike a compromise. “How about this-- I go stay with Emily-- listen--” you stopped him before he could cut you off. “I go stay with Emily tomorrow night. It’s Saturday. I need some girl time, and Jack needs some dad time. You and Jack can spend the day together, and then I can come back on Sunday and you can talk to him about me being here before I’m actually in his kitchen eating his cinnamon toast crunch. I know he loves me, and I love him too, but I don’t want to overwhelm him.”

You could tell that he wasn’t entirely sold on the idea of you being out of his sight for a whole day, but he wasn’t Josh-- he wasn’t going to try to use his emotions to control your behavior. He didn’t say anything, but you could see the discomfort on his face. You know that sooner or later, you’d have to have a conversation about where you’re actually going to live-- but you decide not to push him any further tonight. 

“I’ll be with Emily the whole time. After today, I’m pretty sure she’d shoot him on sight if given the opportunity. You don’t need to worry.” You told him, reaching over to squeeze his hand. Your touch grounded him, brought him back to reality.

He took a deep breath, resigning himself to give you what you wanted, just as he always would. “And you’re going to take your meds, and take it easy, and not--”

“Yes, dad.” You scoffed. “See, this is why I need you and Jack to take some time. You should get all of this out with him.” you laughed at him, and he grinned back at you. 

“You’re just as stubborn. That’s not my fault.” 

“Some people call that being strong-willed, Aaron.” you teased back, sticking your tongue out at him for good measure. 

Aaron panics slightly when he doesn’t find you in the guest room the next morning, but his anxiety evaporates when he sees you perched on the couch in the living room, your hair thrown up into a bun, sitting criss-cross with your feet tucked underneath you and your laptop on your lap. You’ve brewed a pot of coffee, and Aaron takes a minute to look at you fondly before that nagging voice at the back of his head reminds him that you’re his subordinate, that you were hurting, and that even if you weren’t, you could never love a bitter, old, broken man like him. 

“Working on something?” He asked, interrupting his own spiral. 

Your eyes shot up instantly, not having noticed his entrance. “Nothing important. The coffee’s still hot, I hope you don’t mind.” 

“Of course I don’t mind.” He reminds you, rolling his eyes goodnaturedly. “You’re not an intruder here. Especially not when you make a strong pot of coffee.” 

“Doing anything fun with Jack today?” You asked, shutting your laptop as he sat down at the other end of the couch. 

“It’s supposed to be nice, I think we’ll go to the park. He’s just about ready to take the training wheels off of his bike.” He smiled fondly. 

“Aw, my little man! I’m so excited for him.” You cooed, only brightening Aaron’s smile.

“What about you?” 

“I’m not sure. Emily said I should be ready for brunch and that she, JJ, and Garcia would handle the rest. She mentioned that someone gave her explicit instructions for me to take it easy, so I imagine we’ll probably be skydiving and binge drinking.”

“You think you’re real funny, don’t you?” Aaron asked dryly. 

“Yeah, actually, I do.” You smiled over at him, and the corners of his mouth quirked up before he could force them into their usual stoic line. 

There’s a knock at the door, and you shoot up. “That’s Em.” 

Aaron places a hand on your forearm as you trot past. “Hey.” His gentle voice stops you in your tracks. “Be safe, please? Be vigilant, and call me if anything happens?” He looks up at you, and you can see the lines of concern etched around his dark brown eyes.  

“Nothing’s going to happen, Aaron.” You placed your hand on top of his. “Enjoy your day with Jack. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

There’s a moment that passes between you, and you almost think you’re going to lean and give him a peck on the cheek to say goodbye, but Emily knocks again and you’re both distracted. You roll your eyes at yourself as soon as your back is to Aaron. Clearly these painkillers were taking their toll on you.

When you and Emily arrived at the restaurant, JJ and Garcia were already at an outdoor table waiting for you. The four of you chatted and laughed over pancakes and coffee and fruit before walking around the downtown area shopping. Then JJ started leading you down a less-familiar street. 

“Where are we going?” you asked, picking up your pace a little to walk next to JJ, who was at the front of your four-person group on the sidewalk. 

“That is for us to know, and you to find out.” She winked at you with a smile before taking off ahead. You let her, falling into step with Penelope. 

“You know, too?” 

“Of course I do, kitten. But I’m not spoiling the surprise! Just be patient.” 

You know better than to even try with Emily. You just rolled your eyes, chuckling a little at your friends’ antics. Eventually, JJ is leading you up the steps of a brownstone, set back a little way from downtown. 

“What are we doing?” You asked breathlessly. 

“We’re just taking a peek.” JJ said, opening the door and leading you up to a second-floor unit. 

“This feels illegal.” You remark as Emily produces a pair of keys. 

“I know the owner,” she tells you, swinging the door open and letting you walk inside first.

Natural sunlight pours into the empty apartment. You look to the left and see a granite kitchen island, and crisp white cabinets situated between stainless steel appliances. The space that you assume to be the living area is open, and the room is of course void of furniture, but it’s not hard to imagine a loveseat in the center of the room, a chaise along the far wall, a coffee table in the middle, an open bottle of wine and all of your friends filling the empty space. 

“What are we doing here?” You ask with a little chuckle. 

“Well, we know that Josh’s name is on the lease at your current place.” Penelope starts. “And you just have a lot going on right now, and we wanted to help, so we were looking at some places for you. If you don’t like this one that’s fine, I have a whole catalogue of others sorted by distance from work and walkability and--” 

“You guys didn’t have to do that. Thank you.” You smiled. 

“We wanted to.” JJ tells you. 

“Well, what do you think? Go, look at the bedroom.” Emily prods, and you smile, swinging open the door across the room, revealing a large open bedroom and an en-suite bathroom with a truly gorgeous tile shower. 

“The place looks great, Em, it really does. I’m just going to have to think about it. There’s been a lot going on.” You understate. 

“Of course.” She responds. 

“Not to mention the fact that Hotch barely wanted to release me into your care for the night, so I’m not sure he’ll take well to me moving further than his guest room.” You laughed. 

“He’s got it, bad.” JJ comments offhandedly, and your jaw hits the floor. 

“Jennifer!” You chastise her.

“What? You can’t possibly play dumb here.” She asks. 

“I literally couldn’t have less of a clue what you’re talking about. Hotch has only ever been platonic and professional with me.” You denied.

“Well, of course, but he’s different with you.” Emily defends JJ. 

“Different how?”

“He’s--- he’s just different, sweet cheeks. He lets his walls down, and only by 10% or so, but for Hotch, that’s major.” Garcia supplies.

“He’s protective of you in the field.” JJ notes. 

“He’s protective of all of us in the field. We just get partnered up a lot.” You defend him, although you don’t know why. You’d want nothing more than to let them convince you that you meant something to Hotch the same way he meant something to you, but you couldn’t let yourself believe that. It would only mean more heartbreak later. 

“And who makes that decision?” Garcia reminds you.

“And it’s not just the field. He doesn’t even like it when the local cops look at you the wrong way or give you a hard time.”  Emily adds.

“You all need to get away from work more. You’re profiling when there’s nothing there.” You argue weakly. 

“You’ll see,” JJ smiles, rolling her eyes at you. “We’ll let you off the hook for now. But you might want to put a little thought into why your first worry about getting a new place is what Hotch would think.” 

The rest of the day found you back at Emily’s place, lounging around in comfy clothes and binging shitty rom-coms. You ordered a couple of pizzas for dinner, and passed around twizzlers and coca cola like you were at a middle school sleepover. It was nice. Great, even. Josh wasn’t the biggest fan of your coworkers, and you had grown more distant from them over your time with Josh. The conversation was breezy and light, the evening full of laughter. It wasn’t until later, when everyone was cleaning up and preparing to head out, that your tone became a little more serious. 

“Thank you guys, seriously.”

“You know you don’t have to thank us for eating takeout and watching movies in our sweats.” JJ tells you with a smile as she tosses some candy wrappers.

“And you know that’s not what I’m thanking you for. I know I wasn’t the best friend when Josh and I were together.” 

“Clearly that wasn’t your fault.” Emily reminds you. 

“Maybe not, but I still appreciate everything you all did for me today. I missed you.”

“We missed you too, bug.” Garcia said, wrapping you up in a hug. “Just don’t tell boss man that we stayed past your bedtime.”

You let out a laugh. “He’s so ridiculous.” 

“Ridiculously in loveeee,” JJ sings out teasingly. 

“Watch it, or I’ll tell him you kept me out late drinking!” You joked with her as you and Emily walked JJ and Garcia out the door. You and Emily bid your goodnights to each other as you slipped into her spare room, stretching out across the bed lazily. You feel your phone start to vibrate, but you can’t for the love of god remember which zippered pocket of your go-bag you’d left it in. When it stops vibrating, you let out a frustrated groan. Finally, you find it, in the pocket of the jeans you’d worn to brunch this morning. You have a missed call from Aaron, which you return immediately, flipping back over to lie against the mattress. He picks up on the first ring. 

“Hey, I didn’t wake you, did I?” 

You check the time briefly, rolling your eyes a little. It’s not even midnight. “No, I was awake.” You tell him. 

“Did the girls just leave?” He asks casually, but you know Garcia probably wasn’t joking about Hotch enforcing a bedtime. 

“A while ago. I was in the shower when you called.” 

“You’re an awful liar, you know.” He chuckles at you. 

“I thought we agreed that you were going to let all this parental energy out on Jack.” You responded, hoping he could hear the smirk in your voice. 

“I just don’t want you to push it.” Hotch confesses with a sigh. 

“Hotch, I’m okay. Really. You got me out of there and got me patched up. I’m good now.” you tell him, sitting up against the pillows. 

“I also let you go home with him that night after I saw him hit you.” He reminds you, and although you can’t actually see him, your mental picture of him, head hung and thumb running anxiously against his fingers, is startlingly real.

“I made that choice, Hotch. You gave me an out and I chose not to take it.” You reminded him. “That’s on me.” 

“No, it’s not. This wasn’t your fault.” He’s quick to correct you 

“Not yours, either.” You add.

“He pulled a gun on you that night.” He says, more to himself than to you. 

“Yeah, he did.” You said quietly.

“If I had let you go home with him, and he had--” He starts to spiral, but you pull him out of it. 

“Aaron. I’m right here on the phone with you. You came and got me out of there. I’m okay.” 

“I don’t know what I would have done. I can’t-- I can’t imagine a world without you in it.” He confesses, sounding breathless even though you were sure he was just sitting on the sofa at home. 

“You don’t need to. I’m right here.” You tell him. “Is that why you called?”

“It’s good to hear your voice.” He answers, in his own roundabout way. “Did you have a good day?” 

“Yeah, I did. What about you and Jack?” 

“Yeah, we did. We didn’t quite get the training wheels off yet, but we’re getting there. He’s so excited to see you tomorrow.” 

“He is?” You asked. 

“He is. Are you surprised? He’s not exactly shy about how much he likes you.” 

“No, I guess not,” you laugh, remembering a time he had nearly knocked you over in Aaron’s doorway with the force of his hug. “What did you tell him?’

“I just told him that you’d been feeling a little sick, and that you were going to be staying here until you were feeling better.”

“And he was okay?” 

“His exact words were ‘is she too sick to build legos with me,’ so yeah, I think he’s okay.” He laughed, and you tried to push down the sense of warmth that the sound of his laughter spread throughout your chest. It didn’t work. He interrupted your internal dilemma without realizing it. “I should let you get to sleep.” 

“Try to catch a few hours yourself, Hotchner.” You tell him. 

“I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight.” 

“Hotch?” You say before he can hang up the phone. 

“Yeah?” He asks. 

“I can’t imagine a world without you in it, either.” You tell him in a whisper that’s almost self-conscious.

“You don’t need to. I’m right here.”

tagging:  @the-modernmary @greeneyedblondie44 @angelic-kisses13 @wanniiieeee @hotforhotchner11  @baumarvel @ssamorganhotchner

[youngerdrgrey]

[excerpt from] I know you (even if you don't want me to) - chapter seven

since I'm hearing how hungry y'all are (cough @aliyahtheghost + @breeleroux especially), here's the start of chapter seven of I know you (even if you don't want me to) -- Ryan's recovery period is nearly up, so Batwoman is (almost) back bbs. Read on for some roommate talk into some WildMoore texting goodness. This chapter is a true fav.

(includes some talk of police brutality / Crow brutality + violence)

Ryan hops from one foot to the other. She keeps the pressure mostly on the pads of her feet. Light and nimble. Finally back at full form with only one day left in her two week recovery period. She’d do a flip if it wouldn’t make Mary’s head explode. Or disrupt the perfect tuck of her Center Volunteer shirt. Then again, Mary does anxiously hover in the doorway of Ryan’s bathroom. Maybe she’ll explode on her own.

“Mary, seriously?” Ryan reaches for her favorite purple lipstick. “I’m making mocktails and guarding the punch bowl. I’m not even dancing. Doctor’s orders.”

The doctor in question stabs a finger out at Ryan. Mary manages to look menacing even in her little scrubs. “If you so much as think about doing the Wobble—” She stomps into the bathroom.

It’s truly one of the greatest dances of all mankind. Ryan crosses her lipstick tube across her heart.

Mary continues, “I’m leaving you to climb up the stairs on your own. No ice pack, or pain meds, or anything.” Mary takes a deep breath. “Fortunately for you….” She walks over to Ryan to adjust the hair on Ryan’s shoulder. “I know someone who might help you out. Depending on how well your side mission is going.”

If they can call Ryan talking to Sophie a side mission. Ryan applies her lipstick and rubs her lips together.

Mary bats expectant eyes towards the mirror. “You’ve been getting along. Can I draft up the offer letter?”

Ryan smacks her lips. “She’s still a Crow, Mary.”

“A Crow you spent, like, all of yesterday on the phone with.”

Ryan didn’t spend all of yesterday on the phone with Sophie. In the morning, they texted about how awful the playlist for the dance might be. Then they swapped bad songs in the afternoon. Ryan’s personal favorite was a religious remix of ‘The Thong Song’ that truly had to be a parody. (“That God, Go-God, God, God.”) Then they told their personal dance horror stories after Sophie was off work. There were breaks.

Before Ryan can defend herself, her phone lights up from beside the sink. Sophie’s name flashes, and Ryan’s got her phone in her hands in seconds. Mary snorts.

Crowphie to Ryan Have fun making Shirley Temples all night. Here’s hoping someone will forget their school ID so there’s some action at the ticket table

Ryan leans her hip into the sink as she types.

Ryan to Crowphie 👀 You’re looking for action at a school dance?

Crowphie to Ryan Oh yeah, fingers crossed my crush saves me a slow one.

It’s a joke. It has to be, but Ryan thinks back to each near moment between them and feels hope and heat in her cheeks.

Ryan to Crowphie Too bad Batwoman doesn’t do dances

Crowphie to Ryan That’s probably for the best. We’re not on the best terms right now.

Not since the night Sophie rejected Batwoman. The night of “Figure that out, and get back to me. Until you do, I’m done.” Did she really mean that?

Ryan to Crowphie What happened there? She miss a signal flip this week?

Crowphie to Ryan haven’t used it. I doubt she’d want me to. I think I hurt her feelings.

That’s an understatement.

Mary clears her throat behind Ryan. Ryan glances up into the mirror to see Mary’s reflection. The teasing grin matches the tilt in Mary’s voice as she says, “You were saying? About not texting Sophie all day?”

Ryan narrows her eyes as dramatically as she can. “Don’t you have lives to save?”

Mary backs away. “Fine, go back to texting, just think about how much fun you could have talking to Sophie on the comms if she were part of the team.”

Ryan can’t help the sarcasm. “Because me and Luke have so much fun?”

“Obviously it’d be a different kind of fun. Less brother-sister fighting and more….” Mary pauses to think and cringes at whatever she thinks of. Ryan turns around to gently push Mary out of her bathroom.

“Good night, Mary!” she says before closing the door behind her roommate. She probably should’ve stepped out there too, come to think of it. Her phone buzzes again though.

Crowphie to Ryan I do miss going up to the roof. You know, feeling like I’m a part of something, even if I never will be

Ryan drops down onto the stool in the bathroom. It’s an accessibility aid that’s kind of perfect for moments like this. She can take her time. Process without having to actually move around in here. Close her eyes and remember what the wind of the rooftop felt like against her cheeks. With the suit tight to her body and all of Gotham below them. Sophie looks amazing up there.

Ryan to Crowphie You could go flip the signal. Send out that city-wide ‘you up?’ Or an actual you up since you have her number.

Sophie hasn’t texted Batwoman once in the last two weeks.

Crowphie to Ryan You don’t understand.

Ryan chuckles. She’s the only other person that could.

Ryan to Crowphie No, I get it. You could text her if you wanted to talk. Going up there would mean that you want to see her. You want to be with her.

Want to touch her the way Ryan did that night on the roof. The pads of her fingers over Sophie’s waist, their faces so close that it’s a wonder Sophie hasn’t recognized her yet. It goes to show that Sophie’s not that into Ryan as Ryan. Hasn’t memorized the way her jaw sits, or the shade of her eyes.

Crowphie to Ryan yeah

Yeah what? Yeah which? Because Sophie didn’t say it back.

Ryan to Crowphie So you admit it? You want Batwoman?

The typing dots come and go, then come again. Maybe it’s not about Batwoman at all. Maybe Sophie just wants to make out on the roof and be a part of the team. She wants to be Batwoman’s friend with benefits and can’t bring herself to admit it. Fine. Don’t admit anything.

Ryan to Crowphie Can’t blame you. She looks good in the suit 😏 — probably looks good out of it too lol

A perfect cop out for the cop.

Crowphie to Ryan If I wanted to see her without the mask, I could have. We flew together, remember?

Ryan tenses. A painful chill zips down her spine. Does Sophie know? Has she known all this time?

Crowphie to Ryan I didn’t look then because it’s not about her looks or who’s behind the mask. She makes me think. Both Batwomen have. 1.0 got me suspended. It’s the closest I’ve ever come to leaving the Crows. But it wasn’t about everyone then, you know? Jacob Kane hated Batwoman, and I really liked her. Those couldn’t exist at the same time. Meanwhile, 2.0 will not remove her boots from my neck. She’s like you in that way. She takes every opportunity to question my loyalty to the Crows and the people of Gotham. I just wish I knew if I was doing the same. If I was more than just another compromise for her

Fuck, it’s a good thing that they’re texting. Ryan’s whole face burns with that message. Since when is Sophie questioning anything? She never wavers.

Ryan to Crowphie Your Crow-workers beat the shit out of Batwoman 1.0, and you stayed.

Crowphie to Ryan Where else was I supposed to go? The GCPD? I *HATE* what they did, but that will NEVER happen again.

Ryan to Sophie And if it does?

She’s being generous by not saying “when it does.”

Crowphie to Ryan Then I slap my resume on the Bat-signal and hope she doesn’t throw it in the shredder.

Ryan to Crowphie Much more fun to use it for target practice.

Crowphie to Ryan Throw a bunch of Batarangs at it?

Ryan to Crowphie See, you get it 😉

Crowphie to Ryan It’s important to me that little Black girls can see women like us in law enforcement and positions of powers. I want them to know that they can save the world if they want to. It’s not their responsibility, but if it’s their purpose? If protecting people makes them happy, then I want them to know that they are not alone out there. They can make a difference.

There are so many other ways to make a difference. Ryan might have to let Sophie have this for now though. Her heart’s in the right place at least.

Ryan to Crowphie And if that doesn’t work out, there’s always being a ticket taker for a community dance. Shine that flashlight. Ruin somebody’s night!

Crowphie to Ryan Wowww. Spoken like a trouble maker.

Ryan to Crowphie Trouble finds me, okay? No need to worry about me, Agent Moore.

Crowphie to Ryan You sure about that? Your kids might try to fight you, just to see if you’ve still got it.

Ryan to Crowphie Oh I’ve got it. They’ll be too busy following you around to even notice me. Ol’ “Miss Sophie, Miss Sophie” punk asses

Crowphie to Ryan LOL. Ten bucks says they ask me where Batwoman’s been hiding.

Ryan to Crowphie Twenty says they don’t.

Crowphie to Ryan Easy money. You can drop it off at the lobby on your way in 😉

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more to come when I drop the rest of the chapter! reply and let me know if you're still with me. try and guess what happens at the dance?