#maybe being on the highest dose of everything was a bad idea.........

[pochapal]

developing a pretty bad side effect from one of my meds. uh oh!

[noodleblade]

YOU like simpatico. I like simpatico. WE like simpatico

would you write for them?

I do!:) and yes, I will and I did:) AO3 Link

Perceptor eyed the cube of energon before him wearily, his tanks already churning. Today’s batch was a bright, vibrant orange with an unnatural glow to it. It looked thicker than the average ration cube, as if the energon inside had coagulated. But the most worrying, yet constant factor was it had come from Brainstorm.

The jet stood at his shoulder, optics bright with anticipation and wings fluttering excitedly.

“It’s called Supernova Blast, trademark pending,” Brainstorm added, digit nudging the cube across the workbench. “Rodimus named it.”

“You gave this to him?” Perceptor asked. He hesitantly reached for the cube and noted warmth emanating from it.

Brainstorm drew his servo over his spark in mock-offense, optics cycled wide. If he wasn’t wearing his mask, Perceptor knew the engineer would be fighting a smile off his lips.

“Of course not! As always, you get the first taste. Rodimus did call dibs for seconds.” Brainstorm’s wings twitched in agitation. “Drift did alert Ratchet to prepare two berths just in case. You poison the crew once and suddenly everything you make calls for a full medical team on standby.”

Twice, Perceptor thought to himself. Then again, Brainstorm hadn’t intentionally meant the second poisoning, Perceptor being the sole victim of. He didn’t even know about it. Perceptor had firmly requested Ratchet to keep it quiet, that the other didn’t need to know. He hadn’t wanted to upset the other scientist. 

That was the crux of it all, wasn’t it? 

Perceptor picked up the warm cube and held it up at optic level. Beside him, Brainstorm was vibrating. 

This latest project of Brainstorm’s has been going on for a few weeks now. Synthetic energon, while not exactly a new breakthrough in the slightest, was undeniably useful for their ship’s quest through space and the need to quicken the process had brought some unfortunate side-effects. Nothing dangerous, but it made the mixture unpleasant to consume, worse than med-grade but without any of the restorative qualities. Palatable synthetic energon turned out to be a far more difficult innovation, one that had been given highest priority by their illustrious captain. 

Perceptor’s not sure who originated the project: Swerve, Rodimus, Brainstorm, maybe even Ultra Magnus to get Rodimus to stop complaining about the synthetic’s taste -but Perceptor had found himself unwittingly placed as Brainstorm’s first tester. 

“I need a third party to test it. Someone objective and precise. Observant and explanatory. I could only think of you! If you would do me the honor. There is no one I trust more than you.”

Perceptor would be lying if the idea of being Brainstorm's first choice hadn’t made his spark pulse happily, to be valued for his skills, to be trusted above all others. That was until he was presented with the first, of what would be many, many trials. 

They weren’t all bad. He only had to seek Ratchet once when his optics started blurring and it had been a relatively easy fix- a system flush and a settling dose of med-grade. That had been the worst. Most of the time, each batch of energon left him with a bad aftertaste and faint nausea. Ultimately harmless, but consistently marked as a failure. 

He only had to purge his tanks twice. Brainstorm had bore witness to each of those. The jet had been apologetic and attentive with a gentle servo on Perceptor’s back and his field warm and soothing around him. In those horrible moments, between apologies, Brainstorm was rather sweet and caring and kind. Perceptor had quietly wished he could have this gentle attention under different circumstances.

As bad as the energon samples were, they were nothing compared to the true torture Perceptor was willingly putting himself through. Secretive pining was rather unbecoming but Perceptor found himself weak to those bright, inquisitive golden optics. Found he’d rather be the guinea pig of all of Brainstorm’s experiments if it meant being beside him a little while longer. In hindsight, these desperate attempts were quite pathetic but in the moment, Perceptor found himself endlessly charmed by the other’s presence to mind. 

He knew he should simply come clean, admit his affections for the other and end his torment. He was even half-sure they were reciprocated- at least he hoped they were and he wasn’t terribly misreading every touch and every smile and every quiet conversation. The idea of being wrong was more upsetting than finding himself back in Ratchet’s medberth so he kept his mouth shut and continued his self imposed torture. 

“Did you heat this up yourself?” Perceptor asked. He swiveled the cube around and watched the thicker mixture roll along the movement. He hoped that was the case instead of a self heating quality it may possess. 

“It’s the only way to thin it,” Brainstorm admitted sheepishly. “I’m still working on the consistency.” Quietly, Brainstorm added, “Plus, I have notes that you prefer your energon heated.”

Notes, Perceptor tried not to let the thought consume him. Brainstorm has notes on my preferences.

He cleared his intake with a click and pushed down the warm curling in his chassis. “So we are testing…”

“Flavor!” Brainstorm cheered happily. “Rodimus gave me a list of proposed tastes and as far as smell, I think I’ve nailed it.”

They had been swapping between texture and flavor on and off, never quite being able to match both. Success in one led to failure in the other. Not too much when carbonation was added to the equation, another pressing request from Rodimus.

“Is this the magnesium one?” Brainstorm had not quite been able to get the flavor profile on that one in the past two attempts.

“No, no,” Brainstorm waved off, optics ridges furrowing. “Earth flavoring this time. I want you to guess. I tried it myself but I haven’t been to Earth before.” His optics were dazzling, bright and curious and, in this moment, only for Perceptor.

Perceptor can’t say he’d ever even tried the organic material of Earth but Brainstorm’s eager optics were enough for him to assume the expertise if it kept him looking at Perceptor like that. 

Perceptor brought the radiating energon to his lips, acutely aware of Brainstorm leaning in closer. His olfactory sensors indicated strong notes of acid compounds and amine antioxidant- most-likely N,N′-Di-2-butyl-1,4-phenylenediamine, but possibly 2,6-di-tert-butyl-4-methylphenol with a sucrose additive - creating a pleasant smell, though nothing like he noted during his brief time on Earth. Then again, without proper reference material, anything Brainstorm made would be of his own imagination which truly held no bounds. 

He took a small sip. Immediately, a sharp metallic sting rang off his glossa. Too much of the acid compound. The warmth did not help the impact but Perceptor let the energon rest on his glossa as the sharpness dulled, giving way to a sweetness. There the acid and sugar compounds mingled nicely. He couldn’t for the life of his discern what flavor Brainstorm was going for but as far as their testing thus far, this was one of the better outcomes.

“Well?” Brainstorm was leaning so close, he looked just about ready to topple over. “Did you like it?”

“You’re getting better at this.”

Brainstorm pouted. Even with the blast mask, it was obvious. “Percy, that’s not an answer.”

“Will you let me look at the formula?”

“Will you give me an answer?”

Perceptor smiled, he couldn’t help it. The taste had settled quite nicely, far more so than others. “It’s good. A bit sharp in the beginning. Are you going to tell me what’s in it?”

Brainstorm was preening, wings high and fluttering. “You like it?”

“It’s a start.” Perceptor couldn’t help feed off Brainstorm’s delight. It was infectious, but everything about Brainstorm was. “Formula?”

“No, no. That’s cheating! You have to guess.”

“I thought you wanted me to guess the flavor.”

“Same thing,” Brainstorm waved on eagerly. “I mean, if you find yourself incapable…”

Perceptor narrowed his optics. He knew Brainstorm was purposefully egging him on and moreover he knew it was working.

“You are intolerable,” Perceptor muttered with little heat. He enjoyed this banter with Brainstorm far more than he could ever get himself to admit.

Brainstorm’s field was radiant. “You like that, though.”

Warm embarrassment washed over him and Brainstorm’s optics brightened knowingly. They have been here before…too many times. The edge of something right there and neither crossing it. It would be easy; Perceptor could see it in his mind, his predictability models mapping out the possible interactions and their success rate and all of them have a positive success ratio…but the seed of doubt was still there. No predictability model will ever give him 100% success with 100% accuracy and he knew this. It wasn’t scientifically plausible and it was the sole reason Perceptor never pushed for more, never pushed further. Even at 0.01% failure felt too wide, too tempting for things to go wrong, as they always did on the Lost Light.

He wasn’t like Drift who was sympathetic and outgoing and amicable. He wasn’t like Rodimus who didn’t have a self-conscious wire in his frame and went after what he wanted. He wasn’t like the other bots on this ship that allowed emotions and feelings to control their actions. He was sorely inexperienced in this aspect and found himself unable to make up for it. 

So instead of taking that step forward, of attempting to start something that could potentially happen, Perceptor ducked his helm and took another sip of the orange energon.

“You used acetic acid,” Perceptor said. He shuddered his optics as the sharpness settled onto his glossa. “A lot of it.”

“Mmm, close,” Brainstorm replied flippantly. He could hear the smile in his voice meaning Perceptor was missing something.

“You used more than one acid?”

Unadvisable, especially in a consumable mixture, then again Brainstorm actively went the unadvisable route. “Why?”

“No hints!” Brainstorm’s voice was closer, the air from his exvent ghosting against the side of Perceptor’s faceplates. “But yeah, there is acetic acid, so you get half points for that.”

Perceptor took another sip. The sharpness wasn’t so bad after he’d gotten used to it but still too much for enjoyable consumption. “Malic? Wait, no citric?” His optics shuttered wide, looking at Brainstorm.

Their faces were much closer than before and Perceptor could feel the giddiness radiating off the jet. 

“Bingo!”

“A citrus flavoring then. That’s your aim. Very clever.”

“One day I want to dissect your processor,” Brainstorm sighed dreamily. Perceptor nudged the engineer lightly. “You got me. I believe the flavor Rodimus requested was,” Brainstorm moved back, shuffling through his mess of a workstation for the correct data pad, “Orange Crush.”

“You got the color,” Perceptor said. Brainstorm chuckled and the sound weaseled its way into Perceptor’s spark. “I’m not sure on flavoring but if you can find a subtle, weak enough base to neutralize the sharpness, I’d say the flavor was quite enjoyable.”

Brainstorm looked over the moon. Even though Perceptor wanted to remind the other scientist that the consistency was way off and needed to be dealt with, he found himself much more content in watching Brainstorm celebrate his success. He especially didn’t mind when Brainstorm gravitated back towards him, giddy field wrapping around Perceptor and brilliant, beaming optics just for him.The words were right there, resting on the tip of his glossa- I like you, I want to be around you all the time, I adore you -but Perceptor swallowed them down with the taste of acid, sweetness and the approximation of Brainstorm’s creativity.

[pricetagofficial]

State Fair -CK

Warnings: Language, fluff, Clark is a dork, Bruce is a good brother

Masterlist

Word Count: 3.2K

Check out my pinned post if you want to be on my taglist!

A/N: Just like Sweet Tarts, whether Reader is adopted or biological is up for interpretation seeing as I never specified. Also, big thanks to Fish and Elle for reading this and helping me out!

“This has to be your worst idea yet.”

“I agree because you are clearly going to back out.”

“I will not!”

“Sure, Clark.”

With a huff, Clark crossed his arms. “You’re insufferable.”

Bruce chuckled and waved his friend off. “Just go sit down, this will work I swear.”

Clark gave Bruce a look before taking his paddle and sat in his chair. This really was a stupid idea, what would happen when it didn’t work? He hated the idea of paying for a date, letting alone having Bruce pay for it so he could ensure he got one. But all the funds went to various charities, so that was a plus.

You peeked out of the curtain, and saw the crowd gathering in the auction room. Bruce had set up an auction where various socialites would be auctioned off for a single date to the highest bidder. Being a Wayne, let alone Bruce’s sister, you were a shoo-in for some really high bids.

Each person represented various charities, and you were assigned to various orphanages across Gotham. You thought it would be good to support other kids who were victims of losing their parents considering you lost yours along with Bruce that night.

Taking another peek into the crowd, you saw Alfred sitting there with Dick, who looked too excited for a thirteen-year-old kid to be at an auction. Dick caught your eye and waved happily at you, his eyes sparkling with amusement. You waved your fingers at him, earning a smile from Alfred who totally caught you peeking.

Next to Alfred was Clark, Bruce’s best friend, and fellow Justice League member. Feeling the heat rise in your cheeks, you quickly hid behind the curtain and closed your eyes. What the hell was Clark doing here?

“Y/N, you doing alright?”

Turning to look behind you, you saw Bruce standing there with his signature charismatic smile. He was being auctioned off for a date a well tonight,

“Why didn’t you tell me Clark was here?” you hissed.

“I didn’t know he was coming,” he shrugged. “Dick was excited to see him.”

“That’s because the kid looks up to him, figuratively and literally,” you argued.

Bruce watched you with a sly smile. “Besides, why is it such a big deal that Clark is here or not?”

“I-- oooh,” you growled. “You know exactly why, asshole.”

Letting out a chuckle, Bruce patted your shoulder. “Go get ready, we’re about to start.”

Giving him a glare, you went and found your seat and crossed your arms. Stupid Bruce and his stupid plans. You weren’t sure what he was hiding up his sleeve, but when you’re older brother was The Batman you learned to watch out for the tiny giveaways.

Bruce was planning something, and you were going to figure out what it was.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, Welcome to our annual Charity Auction! This year we are auctioning off a single date with some of Gotham’s most notable residents! The funds for this year will go to several charities predetermined by our wonderful participants! Now without further ado, let’s get on with the show!”

The announcer walked to the podium as the curtain rose to reveal a grand stage and all the participants off to the side hidden out of sight. Across the stage sat Bruce, leaning back in his seat as he talked with several friends of his.

“So, what did Bruce do to convince you to join this year?”

Looking to your right, you saw Kate was hovering over your shoulder.

“Last year, Dick was sick and Alfred was called away for a family matter.” You explained, Kate should remember why you weren’t at the auction last year. She helped come up with the cover story.

Batman and Robin had a rough time that night on patrol, thanks in no part to Scarecrow. Dick had gotten a large dose of his fear toxin, and Bruce was too injured to console him. Alfred had to make sure Bruce was alright before the next day, and left you with a hysterical Dick until the antidote kicked in.

You had decided to stay that night because Dick was plastered to your side, and Bruce understood completely. Surprisingly enough, during the auction, Clark had shown up and helped you take care of the little boy wonder, even going as far as falling asleep with Dick curled into his side.

Thinking back on the memory, you couldn’t help but smile. That was one of the first times you and Clark had any time alone together.

“And now for bachelorette number three, Y/N Wayne.”

Jerking your head up, you smiled and rose to your feet, and walked onto the stage. You must have spaced out the first two people during your trip down memory lane. Waving politely, you caught the eye of Clark who only smiled brightly at you.

Seeing his smile made you feel lighter than air.

“Miss Wayne represents the orphanage charities all across Gotham, hoping to restore the buildings and ensure a bright future for the children.”

Looking at the auctioneer, you gave him an impressed look. He was playing it up really well, not like he needed it to. You were a Wayne, and was guaranteed to rake in some serious money. You just hoped it would be enough.

“We’ll start the bidding at $500,000. Do I see $500,000?”

All at once, several paddles went up, including Clark’s. You couldn’t fight the confused look on your face, what the hell was he doing? That had to be almost five times the amount he made in a year working for the Daily Planet! So what the hell was he doing spending it all on a date with you?

You stood on the stage as the prices ranked higher and higher, Clark’s paddle not once lowering. The price was almost $2,000,000 and Clark was fighting off with another guy, all for a date with you. You would be feeling proud if you weren’t so concerned for Clark’s livelihood.

“$2.5 million? Do I see $2.5 million?”

Watching the crowd, you watched as the second guy gleaned at Clark and loosened his tie almost as if he was afraid of what would happen to him if he kept trying to outbid him. He lowered his paddle, and Clark just beamed.

“Sold for $2.5 million!”

Clark let out a sigh of relief, Dick looking at him with astonishment. “How’d you get all that money?”

Shrugging, he sent Dick a smile. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

Maybe, this wasn’t such a bad plan after all.

It took a few hours, but eventually, the auction ended and Clark was escorted out of the room with Alfred and Dick beside him.

“You know, this could be a dream come true for you.” Dick grinned. “How long did you have to bully B into giving you the money?”  

Looking down at the kid, Clark chuckled. Of course Dick figured it out, he was living with Batman after all. “Not long, he wanted to make sure his sister didn’t end up with some creep.”

Dick chuckled, adjusting his jacket. “Yeah, that sounds like him.”

The three of them waited for you and Bruce to show, ready to take you home for a well-deserved rest. The auction went off without a hitch, and it was all thanks to Bruce and the effort he put in.

Turning the corner, you and Bruce smiled seeing them. Nudging his shoulder, you looked up at him. “Are you going to tell me how Clark got $2.5 million?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Crossing your arms, you gave Bruce an unimpressed look. “Sure, but why do I feel like it has something to do with you?”

“You think everything has to do with me.”

“Do I need to bring up your nightly activities?”

Bruce didn’t get another word out before Dick came running up to you with his arms wide, diving in for a hug.

“Y/N! You did great up there! Sure beats last year right?” he chuckled.

Smiling at him, you ruffled his hair. “I don’t know kiddo, I actually enjoyed my time with you.”

“I agree, it was nice to relax for a night.”

Looking up, you saw Clark smiling down at you with his signature boy scout smile. You always loved the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, and the little scrunch of his nose.

“You want to talk about relaxing? Where the hell did you get $2.5 mil?”

“Yeah, you were practically shooting lasers, Clark.” Dick chimed in.

Looking between you and Dick, Clark shrugged with a smile. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

***

You stood in the Batcave, by the zeta transport waiting quietly for Clark to show and pick you up. Bruce and Dick stood by your side to keep you company while you waited. Bruce was half-dressed in his Batman suit while Dick was nursing a cup of Earl Grey tea.

“What time did he say he would be here?” you asked, checking your watch again.

“Relax, Y/N.” Dick chuckled, “You know, if I didn’t know any better I would think that you have a thing for Superman.”

“Well, you do know better.” you huffed. It wasn’t the standing that bothered you, in all honestly it was the wait. What if Clark decided to cancel on you? Yeah, he already paid over $2 million for it but that didn’t mean he had to show up.

You shook the thoughts out of your head. Clark wasn’t that kind of guy, you knew he wasn’t. Clark Kent was one of the sweetest guys in the universe, there was no one else you would rather spend your night with than him.

Which brought up other thoughts. Bruce was instructed to not let you dress fancy at all, leaning you closer to casual jeans and a shirt as your attire. Whatever Clark was planning, you weren’t going to find out until he told you.

There was a bright flash and Clark stepped out of the zeta tube, wearing his normal apparel with his glasses propped up on his nose.

“Hey, you ready to go?”

You gave him a nod, grabbing your purse. “Born ready.”

Clark smiled and looked at you. He thought you looked perfect tonight and hoped you would enjoy the date he was taking you on.

“Be sure to have her home on time,” Dick scolded, grinning into his cup of tea. “And no funny business.”

Bruce looked down at him and nudged his shoulder ruffling his hair. “Isn’t that my job, chum?”

“Let’s be real here B, no one takes Batman seriously without Robin there to kick their face in.”

You couldn’t fight the giggles, covering your mouth to muffle them. Walking over, you squished Dick’s face and kissed his forehead. “Make sure you listen to Bruce and Alfred okay?”

Dick gave you a nod, hugging you tightly. “Have fun.”

Running your fingers through his hair, you kissed the top of his head before letting him go. Turning to Bruce, he pulled you tightly into a hug and kissed your cheek. “Be careful, we’re just one call away if you need us.”

“Bruce, I’m with Superman. I’ll be okay.”

Looking at Alfred you pointed at the two boys next to you. “Give me a call if none of them are listening, okay?”

Alfred smiled, “Of course Miss Y/N, now go have fun.”

Turning back to Clark, he offered you his arm before leading you back towards the zeta tube. “Don’t worry, she’ll be safe with me, and we’ll be back before midnight.”

Bruce nodded, waving you two goodbye as you disappeared into the blinding light. Coming out on the other side, you were greeted with the fresh air one wouldn’t normally get in Gotham. The scent of fresh crops, dirt, and manure filled the air as you opened your eyes to the setting sun of the Kansas skyline. It was a beautiful shade of orange with pinks and blues dusted across the sky, you never got sunsets like this back home either.

“Clark, it’s beautiful out here.” you smiled.

He watched you fondly, his eyes not leaving you for a second. “It really is.”

Turning to look at him, you felt the heat rise in your cheeks. Keeping a hold of your arm, Clark led you down the streets of Smallville towards a truck that was parked against the curb. Opening the door, Clark reached in and pulled out two plaid shirts, and handed one of them to you.

“Clark, what are we doing?” you laughed, sliding your arms into the flannel sleeves as he pulled on his own.

“You’ll have to wait and see,” he grinned. “Hop in.”

Giving Clark a look, you walked to the passenger seat and climbed into the truck. Starting it up, the air was filled with an old Randy Travis song effectively setting the mood for the drive. Leaning back in the seat, you looked out the window as Clark drove off, heading out of town limits.

With the window open, you felt the wind blow in your face and embraced the fresh air. Cornfields flew by as Clark drove down the highway, towards a large empty field. Off in the distance, you could see tall structures you made out to be a ferris wheel and various tents.

Keeping your concerns to yourself, you watched as he turned into the field and parked the truck. Turning it off, Clark quickly hopped out of it before you could even open the door. Walking around to your side, Clark quickly opened your door and held his hand out to you.

With a smile, you took it as he helped you out of the truck. “Shall we?”

“A state fair?” You laughed, hopping out of the vehicle.

Once on the ground, you noticed you were practically pressed against Clark’s chest and were forced to look up at him. You were so close, you could smell his body wash and felt his breath fan over your face.  

Clark smiled down at you, holding your hand tightly in his. Brushing his thumb over the back of your hand, he pulled it up and pressed a soft kiss to it. “I thought this would be a great place to take a city girl such as yourself.”

Trying to hide your embarrassment, you pushed the bridge of his glasses up too high and huffed. “Stop doing that,” you muttered and walked towards the entrance to the fair. Clark’s laughter could be heard from behind you as he jogged to catch up with your fast pace. Slipping his hand back into yours, he paid for tickets and led you into the fairgrounds.

Walking around, you couldn’t help but admire the things around you. Banners were hung everywhere, with signs pointing to all the attractions. There were rides, games, and food stands all over the place.

Gripping his hand, you pointed at a booth selling cotton candy and grinned excitedly. “Come on Clark!” You laughed and pulled him towards the stand and watched him order a large cotton candy for you to share.

Finding a spot on a nearby bench, you sat and pulled off pieces and stuck them into your mouth humming happily as they dissolved. You couldn’t remember the last time you went to a fair like this, and the feeling excited you.

Clark watched as you ate the sugary snack, his blue eyes shining in adoration. He loved the way your eyes lit up with every bite and the cute little hum you made when you tasted it.

“Now are you going to tell me where you got the money to buy our little date?”

“You’ll just make fun of me,”

“I make fun of you anyway,” you giggled.

Clark gave you a look before taking the piece of cotton candy out of your hand and ate it with a grin. “Now you’re just being mean,”

Nudging his shoulder, you looked up at him. “Did you forget who I have for an older brother?”

Stifling a laugh, Clark nodded and leaned closer smoothly wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “You’re right, being mean is a Wanye trait. I’d hate to see how mean an offspring of Bruce could be.”

Laughing along with him, you couldn’t help but agree. A biological offspring of Bruce would be a nightmare, you only hoped that the kid’s mother would be a calm and relaxed person.

“If you don’t tell me, I’ll just assume you got the money from Lex.”

Clark gave you an unimpressed look, “Now that’s not funny.”

“I find that I am quite funny,” you grinned.

Dropping his head in defeat, Clark huffed. “Bruce gave me the money,” he admitted. “He wanted to make sure his sister didn’t end up on a date with a creep.”

Taking another bite, you looked at him. “I’m going to assume there is more to this, you don’t go on a lot of dates Clark.”

If you had a dime for every time you saw Superman blush, you would only have five cents which isn’t a lot but it was worth it to see the man of steel blush.

“Clark?”

Turning away, Clark bit his lip. How was he supposed to tell you he set this up with Bruce, so he could get a date with you? But he didn’t need to say anything, you watched his expression and the sudden uptick in his nervousness. You grew up with the world’s greatest detective, of course, you would notice when he was crushing hard on his best friend’s sister.

“You and Bruce set this up, didn’t you?” you asked.

Clark’s silence only confirmed it.

“Clark, you know all you had to do was ask,” you smiled, putting a hand on his shoulder. Clark turned to look at you. “I would have said yes.”

Adjusting his body, Clark turned to face you fully. Cupping your face in his hands, Clark pressed his lips to yours in a soft kiss.

Letting out a gasp, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pulled him closer. After a few moments, Clark pulled away and rubbed his nose against yours with a smile. “Maybe next time, I’ll just start with that.”

“Maybe you should, watch Bruce have an aneurysm.” you giggled.

Pecking your lips once more, Clark looked around and saw it was getting dark. “Come on, I have a special place to watch the fireworks.”

Rising from your bench, Clark threw your empty cotton candy stick in the trash and pulled you down the path towards a secluded area. “Hang on tight,” he grinned.

“Hang on to wha-- ah!”

Before you knew it, Clark had his arms wrapped around you before he flew into the air. Gripping onto him for dear life, you buried your face in his shirt afraid to look at the things around you.

“Y/N, open your eyes.” he chuckled.

Carefully peeking an eye open, you saw that both of you were hovering a good height above the ground and watched as the fireworks exploded in the distance with loud pops. Once you got comfortable, you leaned your head against his chest and held on tightly watching the fireworks timing them to the beat of his heart.

“It’s beautiful up here, Clark.” you smiled.

“Not as beautiful as you,”

Leaning up, you pressed your lips to his with the fireworks going off behind you.

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[acknowledgetheabsurd]

For eighteen days I had been struggling with fatigue, a terrible depression that was going on, sleepless nights, exhausting work, crowds of people talking, questioning, asking, pressing... and finally I had no other hope than this return to Rio, to find there the certainty that you still existed, that you loved me, and that I was finally going to find you again. And then the emptiness again, and this time the near certainty that something had happened and that I wouldn't find you again. I wrote to you in the night and destroyed that crazy letter. This morning, an embassy office in town sent me a letter that it hadn't forwarded to me. I would have killed them, but your letters were there. Only two of them were true (August 5 and August 11) and I wonder if other letters are not moving on this endless continent, or if they are lost forever. Unless you simply wrote me a few letters. But who cares!

To read you after this long silence, to find you, to love you, to be loved, especially at a turn of phrase, when one has remained so long dry and solitary! What an appetite for tenderness we end up walking around with! You suffered from my letter where I answered your requests, you didn't find love in it? Oh, my darling, you read it badly. Yes, the anguish, the fear of the future, the lucidity, all that left little room for tenderness. But I sent you the highest idea I had of our love, I talked about it as we talk about what we respect most, without regard, with the sole will of intelligence and passion.

I am indeed imagining your "crisis" and I am waiting for you to tell me about it. But if it unites you a little more with me, the rest will not matter. In the same way that it was enough for me to hold your letters in my hands to make the awful days of loneliness that I have just gone through disappear. What bothers me, though, is that I am tired. I'm going to bring you back with a marked face, and I would have liked to land with my strength intact.

It's been an exhausting journey. Planes, conferences, receptions, journalists, hysterical women of the world, and then starting all over again the next day. Sometimes I felt like Fernandel or Marlene Dietrich. And I, who can never stand society beyond four or five people, have heart poisoning caused by an exaggerated dose of humanity. Paris has become for me the place of solitude and silence - a kind of convent. And then nothing is more tiring than playing a role that one does not play well. So many people loved me, or said so, and I, with two or three exceptions, loved no one.

I was waiting, it is true, for the hours of love, and here they come. I only hope that I will soon regain my health and be rid of this inner depression. Perhaps then, in memory, a few hours or a few places on this continent will come back to me "full of meaning". Chile, no doubt, which I loved. Your "last" letter has just been brought to me, my love. What a thrust towards you! What a long wait now! Everything you say to me I knew and suffered with you.

But I loved you and waited for you to come back to me. Now you've come back and I'm running to meet you, and in a few days it will be peace. It will be a difficult peace crossed by lightning, painful at times. But your confidence, the certainty that you show me makes me think that our love will no longer take on that hideous locked face, and an air of hatred and bad suffering, which I could only endure through the effort of the whole being - which left me lessened. Your happiness, your laughter, your pleasure, this is what makes me live and carries me above myself. I await them with you. Sleep with you, sleep, until the end of the world... When you receive this letter, I will be on my way. Maybe you'll get my telegram at the same time.

I don't know if you understood well what I told you, but there will be no one at the airfield except Robert [Jaussaud]. But perhaps it would be better if you waited for me on rue de Vaugirard. I don't know, I don't know anymore, at least. Just seeing you, that's all that matters. I may arrive tired from this long journey. But don't be disappointed if I am.

Since this is my last letter, let me tell you at least what you need to know, that I have never stopped loving you during these two months, that you have been my newest and oldest thought, my support, my refuge, my only suffering. Receive me in your heart, far from all noise, shelter me a little more and then let us begin to live this love which cannot grow tired. All of you, without reservation, this is what I covet - all of myself. See you soon, darling, see you soon, I'm laughing with happiness, all alone, stupidly, moved as if it were a June 6*.

Albert Camus to Maria Casarès, Correspondance, August 16, 1949 [#84]

* Anniversary of their union, June 6, 1944.

[oldschoolimagineblog]

INFAMOUS: p. 1 Meeting

→ Warnings: There is going to be mention of drug use and abuse, sex* (*girl on girl too), fights, name calling and a poly-relationship (kinda).

→ Tags: @anon-1112​ @m0n1cal3w1n5ky​

→ A/N: I hope you guys enjoy!! Any feedback is welcomed, if you wanna be tagged let me know!

1983

The Sunset Strip, what a wonderful place it was; filled with beautiful women with barely any clothes on and filled with drunk and dosed Rockstar's and common men. It was the place to go when your heart desired was to party and enjoy the view of women, hoping to be lucky and go home with one of them.  

And right now, nothing sounded better to Y/N than that; she knew how to get there, she´d seen some of band mates go in a few times, her legs felt like jelly and her body tricked her into thinking she was melting with every step she took now that the mdma had officially taken over her system, but once she walked into the club, eyes wide and a big smiled plastered over her face from all the women inside, she forgot about how she was melting just a few seconds before. 

But her heart jumped in her ears when she heard Razzle's´ laugh in the club, it was pure coincidence that she had found him there, and pure luck the fact that she heard him over the music, she scanned the room and spotted the blackhead quickly, he was sitting with some other men you couldn’t care to identify, so you made your way towards him.

When you were close enough, he spotted you walking by, and drunkenly he rose his hands up, like a child, when he´s excited over something and yelled your name which only made her chest feel heavy with joy,your senses too heightened so all the joy you usually felt when you saw Raz just became a thousand times more intense, everything was.

¨Darling come sit with us! I´ll introduce you to Motley fucking Crue! ¨ he yelled, by now everyone in the table was looking at you. The boys were all drunk or high, or both, but not even that took the shock from them when they saw you, all smiley and clearly high off something, since you were unable to stay still and on your forehead and arms a thin layer of sweat shined; still you looked just like in the magazines.  

You modelled on and off, it was never really your thing but you record label loved to make money off you, and although your main job was music, they liked to profit from your looks as much as they liked profiting from your voice. And although they were silent as you embraced Raz and pressed a kiss on his lips, they were all thinking the same thing how the fuck does Razzle know you.

You were everyone's dream girl, your career was at its highest point, everyone knew you and either wanted to be with you or be you, your music videos and interviews played through all MTV, your name was always on the papers and magazines along with photos, your music was on the radio; you were what the industry was all about.  

¨This is Y/N! Dear love of mine, this is Motley Crue, Mick, Vince, Tommy and Nikki¨ Raz introduced everyone and then sat down, leaving you space to join them at the table, and once settled you didn’t waste no time in excitingly saying hi to all of them, babbling on how you’ve seen them live a few times at the Whiskey and how you had a friend who was obsessed with them.  

¨You know what I'm curious to hear, the story of how you out of anyone stumbled into a strip club at this time at night¨ Nikki said to everyone, ¨Hopefully is not one of those stories in which you were just looking for you boyfriend here¨ he added drinking from his bottle of Jack.  

To which you laughed and explained, ¨Oh no, no. It was all casualty that Raz was here with you guys, by the way, we are not dating, but I was partying at another club and decided I wanted to come down to sunset strip and see some girls dance, the plans just changed when I saw you guys when I walked in¨  

¨You wanted to see girls dance? ¨ Vince jumped in, ¨Let´s go see some girls dance! ¨ he offered, ¨We never meant to ruin your plans anyway¨ Tommy said, everyone seemed to like the idea since they were all standing from his seats already, grabbing onto their drinks and cigs as they called for a girl to come along. So, you followed, naturally all the exciting washing over your body like waves.  

On a private room, all of you sat until a dancer came around and started playing some music, your leg was bouncing unable to stay still from the anxiousness it caused you to be there, but not the bad kind of anxiety, the excited-I-can´t-wait-for-this-to-happen one. Once the dancer began doing her thing, your eyes were glued to her, she moved and looked like a goddess, and although it was the extasy running through you, you wanted her, and she was quick to notice your lusty staring with your dilated pupils and she went in for a show.

Making her way to you until she was eventually straddling you, everyone's eyes were on you too, no one expected this to happen, but they were not angry about it, and all the boys were too high and drunk to even bother to talk.  

The dancer unclasped her bra and slid it down her shoulders, revealing her breasts to everyone, then she started to play with the hem of your shirt until eventually she took your top off, leaving you in a bra, she never stopped dancing to the music while she did that, her hips were moving and she pulled your hands to her breasts, and you wasted to time in grouping her, eventually not caring about the boys in the room and kissing and sucking on her nipples.

¨Raz man, if she isn´t your girlfriend then you wouldn't mind us joining in on her fun, right? ¨ Nikki asked, ¨She surely isn't my girlfriend mate, she's my wife, but I don’t think she would want anyone to join in her fun right now¨ Razzle laughed, quickly glancing at Nikki as he spoke.  

¨You´re married? How is this not public? ¨ Mick asked, he had completely zoned out of your and the dancer, and just as the topic was beginning to get the attention of everyone, including you, the dancer finished up her routine, picked her tips and left.  

¨My manager doesn´t want the story to go public, since we got drunk married in Vegas¨ you explained, ¨Pretty much, and getting it annulled would bring unwanted attention on the subject¨ Razzle added.  

¨So you guys are together? ¨ Nikki asked trying to get the story straight.  

To which you and Raz shrugged, ¨I wouldn’t say we´re together¨ he explained.  

¨Yeah, we´re not strictly together, but we do go out sometimes¨ you said

¨So you have and open marriage? ¨ Mick asked, trying to put it in simple words,  

You and Raz and looked at each and nodded, truth was you guys never really talked about what your relationship was all about, surely you felt something for Raz, he has showed you love and support like no one, and you felt the same way towards him, but you were too young to commit, he was two years older than you, and you had just turned 21 a few weeks ago, exactly why you had decided to celebrate with Hanoi Rocks in Vegas.

You’ve met Hanoi Rocks when your manager introduced you to them, they had just arrived from Finland and your label was helping them breakthrough in America, and you all clicked as soon as you started speaking. So, on the weekend of your birthday you surprised with tickets and reservations for Vegas to celebrate, and they were all in.  

However, things did get a little out of hand, and although it was not your first-time drinking, you all got a little too carried away and lost control in the middle of the partying, and somehow you went from strangers buying you and the guys drinks at a bar to someone's penthouse getting body shots from beautiful women and having everyone on Hanoi Rocks do coke on your ass.

And with a few lines and drinks on your system you grew a little closer to Razzle, his hands were on your body the whole night, dancing and drinking, kissing your everywhere, and things escaladed quickly, it was in a matter of hours that you two were in one of the bedrooms, tearing each other's clothing off, touching and rubbing on each other, making love promises.

And it was at that moment when Raz thought about marriage, and so he asked you to marry him, all while kissing down your body while you were under him, looking at you in between your thighs, your panties were long gone, and you said yes, you assured him you wanted to marry him; and suggested how all the partying you were doing was now your joined bachelor party.

And it took no time for him to attach his lips to your aching core, already dripping from all the foreplay you had done before hand, his tongue was all over your clit, sucking and flickering, while his hands were skilled on your core, sliding in and out, waves of pleasure coming through you as you melted under his touch, your hands were tight on his hair pushing closer to you as you moaned out his name, begging for him not to stop as you felt yourself about to finish all over his face, which you did shortly after, and he licked you clean, you were quick to want more from him, ready to get him inside of you when he stopped you.  

¨This can wait sugar, I just wanted to show you a preview of our wedding night¨ he kissed you, ¨Then what are we waiting for Raz? let's go get married! ¨ you said getting off him, ¨get dressed! Let's go to a chapel! You said, to which he listened, quickly getting his clothes on.  

The ceremony was short and fun, some guy dressed as Elvis married you two while his band was his best men and some girl you found at the party agreed to be you maid of honor. And in your vows, you promised to love and care for each other until the day came one of you part into another life.  

Once you came back to California with the band, and the drugs and booze had worn down, you and Raz were kind of freaking about you and him being married, you had both agreed on the fact that most of what was said was all under the influence and although he was clear on the fact that he did find you fascinating, maybe marriage was a little too soon for you both, to which you agreed, you guys needed to get to know each other a little more, and just as you and him were talking about getting your marriage annulled, your manager heard you talk and he almost lost his shit.

He couldn’t have your reputation be questioned after a weekend of hard drugs and a marriage where you were the bride! So, he brought Hanoi Rocks manager, and it was quickly decided that to keep the bad press away, you were to stay married until they found a way to annul it without it been a big story so both you and is band would be free of any drama and bad reputation.  

Once you and Raz had told the boys the story of what happened between you two, they understood your relationship a little more, although a lot of questions came from it.  

¨So if he fucks another girl you wouldn’t care? ¨  

¨No Tommy¨

¨What about if he gets another girlfriend? Would you be angry then? ¨

¨No Tommy, I just want to see Raz happy¨

¨Raz and would you care if she fucked some other dude? ¨

¨As long as she is into it, I'm good Nikki¨

Soon enough you were all crashing at Motleys two-bedroom apartment, it was one of those weird night in which all the boys came home together, not leaving early with some chick or crashing at someone else's house instead of theirs.

The sunlight was starting to shine through the city since you decided to walk to their apartment, and once in, everyone kind of just scattered around, they offered some of their clothes for you to sleep in with, and by the time you came out of the bathroom in Nicki's shirt and Mick´s boxer everyone was already passed out, so you followed their lead and walked around looking for somewhere comfortable to pass out too, and ended up finding Nikki asleep in a bed with plenty of space for the two to sleep in.  

The only thing he managed to take off was his shirt, his boots and pants were still on, so carefully you took his shoes off, and you made your way to the other side of the bed. You didn´t want to wake him up, not that you thought was possible though, the nights drinking and drug using was enough to tire anyone, and they were already in the club when you arrived, god knows since when they had been sitting in that table. You laid next to him; he was on top of the covers so you were hoping on it not being a cold morning so you could sleep peacefully.  

[turtletimewriting]

TickleTober Day 12: Hard Tickles

Summary: Remus is in a particular mood, thankfully him and Janus have a failproof routine! 

Note: Not written to be overly shippy so feel free to read it either way! Woop woop, tickle fic alert! I kinda had a hard time with this one so I don’t think it’s that strong. Ler Janus and Lee Remus.

_._._

Remus was in a mood. It wasn’t necessarily a good mood but it wasn't like the worse thing in existence. A deep restlessness that seemed to settle into his very bones. His brain didn't do well with restlessness. It needed something to focus on, completely lose himself in, so he didn’t have to focus on the ideas that flooded his head. He tried reading, he tried cooking, he tried listening to music but it all failed. 

Thankfully, he knew exactly what he wanted to do. Janus started doing it as a joke to get him to stop hovering around but Remus made sure he knew just how well it worked. It completely captured his entire focus and left him feeling absolutely satisfied afterwards. Plus, it was always fun to see that side of Janus. A light hearted teasy version of him. 

Remus needed to have hard relentless tickles all over his most ticklish spots.

Finally giving in, he paused the film he was trying to watch and started to make his way to Janus’ room. He could practically picture it now. Maybe Janus would whip out the hair brushes? Ooh or maybe he finally try out those metal claws he bought him for occasions like these. Remus just thought he was being paranoid about those, he always insisted that they would probably actually scratch him since they were kinda sharp. 

Knocking his typical knock, he waited a few seconds before flinging the door open anyway. 

Janus was waiting for him. All six of his arms crossed over his chest like he was dealing with a bratty child. Well... close enough! 

“Uh Hey!” Remus greeted with a wide smile as if he had no idea what was about to happen. Janus didn’t bother though. Two arms lurched forward and attached themselves to Remus’ sides before he even had a chance. He squealed but tried not to squirm too hard. Janus kept squeezing up and down, up and down, as he guided Remus to sit down on his bed. 

Then he used two more arms to push him down so he was laying down. 

“Yes, Remus? How may I help you?” Janus hissed but kept those squeezing hands going. His calm refined façade remaining in place flawlessly in the face of Remus squealing and blushing adorably. 

“TIHIHICKLES TICKLES JAHA JANUS!” Remus was exaggerating his laugh, hoping that it would encourage Janus to go for it! His sides were a pretty decent spot but nothing mind meltingly bad! 

“But I am tickling you? Is there a parti-”

“ARMPITS! ARMPITS! AHARMPITS!” 

Janus smirked. Of course he knew from lots and lots of experience that Remus would want him to go for the kill. But he also knew from that experience that Remus could be teased a little. It was always a balancing act between riling him up further and frustrating him to the point he would rather not be tickled anymore. He was never shy around wanting tickles, makes sense as he dealt with any thoughts or wants that were seen as weird or taboo. Of course he would totally miss that some people would feel shy or embarrassed around wanting to be absolutely wrecked with tickles. 

“Oh armpits? Hm... I’ll give you an option...” 

“Ohokay!” Remus then perked up. Everything about him now tensed ready for whatever torture he was about to happily agree to. All those same thoughts came rushing back. Just what would he destroy him with! Brushes? Restraints? 

“You have two choices,” Janus deliberately paused, taking an immense delight in seeing Remus squirm in excitement, “Two of each of my arms will tickle a different spot. Or... all six of them get your armpits?”

Remus paused carefully before slowing creeping out his answer, “Hmm... if I find that six in the armpits is too much or doesn’t tickle much after awhile, can I-” 

“Then I’ll swap to the other choice,” Janus smiled, he wasn’t stupid enough to think that he was in charge during these moments. This was all about what Remus wanted, and if he took some enjoyment from seeing the cocky side desperate with laughter, then that was only for him to know. 

“Okay!” Remus cheered and now fully relaxed against the bed all over again. 

This time, Janus didn’t wait. It was becoming obvious that Remus was getting impatient and needed his dose of tickles now. So he launched into his attack. 

Three hands per pit scribbling away. But he made sure to kept each pit experiencing different tickles. On his right, his three hands merely tickled different parts of the pit. One in the middle, another tracing down his arm and the last practically tweaking away at his highest ribs. But the other... it was a free for all with all three hands clamouring for the sweet spot of Remus’ death spot. 

Not that any of that mattered to Remus. All he was aware of was that he was being tickled. Lots. Like a LOT. 

“AAAAAAH AAAH AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA AAAAAAAAH!” Remus shrill shrieks sounded like music to Janus’ ears. Joyful squeaks and a waterfall of cackly laughter. He wouldn’t last long. Not that he ever did. Tears were now prickling at his eyes. 

And the restlessness and thoughts remained completely silenced. 

[nowaynoee]

Somebody but you

The title of this fic is from the song “somebody” by dagny.

Also on AO3.

Placed somewhere in the future where Maya and Lola are a thing, Lamifex are (almost) a second family and they do urbex while it’s raining in Lola’s favourite place. 

Outside the abandoned building the rain is pouring and it doesn’t seems like it wants to stop anytime soon. Yes, it was a bad idea to do urbex in this weather condition, but still — The view from the Pleyel tower is beautiful and the grey sky above them surrounds the city in a pale light. A light, cold breeze ruffles Lola’s hair and makes her shiver but she is determined to get a picture of the landscape before going back to the inside of the building, where thankfully everthing is still dry. And there it is, the perfect shot ready to be posted on her instagram. “Still taking pictures?” Maya’s voice behind her makes her snap back into reality. Lola turns around, a little smile on her face, and handles the phone with the picture on the screen to the purple haired girl. “The picture is good, but the reality is definitely better.” Maya brings her attention to the sky - which, by the way, turned even greyer than before - and sighs. Without an umbrella, their walk back home, to Maya’s flat, is going to be a real struggle and catching a cold isn’t exactly something they want. Lola knows what Maya’s thinking but doesn’t say anything. She looks at her, at how her brown eyes turn into two little moons, her lips slightly parted, her hair ruffled by the wind, the little cloud that forms everytime that she breathes. “Let’s go back inside - your children are waiting for you.” Lola teases her a bit, just because she can. She knows that Maya is very fond of Jo, Max and Sekou - obviously not at the poing of taking the mom role - but seeing Maya laugh everytime Lola mentions them like “her children” is enough for her to keep doing so. Maya’s laugh is addicting

On a very old and dusted couch, Sekou and Max are sitting with their legs crossed while Jo tries to light on fire a big pile of cardboard boxes and other things she found around. “Putain! The smell is — ugh.” Jo brings her right arm on her nose, trying to cover it up. The smell is real, but so is the satisfaction in her face when the fire gets bigger and a warm wave hits them, heating up their cold hands and bodies. “From today I want you to call me the FIRE QUEEN! Sounds good right? Yeah.” Jo’s words are muffled against the fabric of her sleeve but she’s basically screaming as always, so they all heard her well, even Maya and Lola that are now approching them. “We aren’t tecnically allowed to light a fire here, even if the tower is abandoned. This building is a private property and was actually bought to build a four tower complex — It’s a pity they didn’t end up doing it, this big thing right here has so much potential!” Nobody is really interested in hearing the Tour Pleyel’s story, yet they let Sekou talk about it. His enthusiasm is perceivable and it kinds of spreads in all of them, even if the rain made their initial excitement drop low. “Well, it’s best for us they ended up doing nothing. This place is incredible like this.” Max turns his gaze to Lola, that now is leaning on the back of the couch, her elbow planted on the used cushions and hands supporting her face. “How did you find it?” he asks, grinning at her. “I was walking around one day and I saw it — finding an open spot to go inside wasn’t exactly easy but I managed it.” Lola is lying, her poor explanation is far from the real reason why she knows that place. She didn’t just saw it one day and went inside out of curiosity. She knew that behind those ruined and moldy walls there was something, or someone, that could give her what she wanted — and she wanted drugs. Over time she eventually stopped going there to get her dose and settled for clubs and parties, but the Pleyel tower remained her safe place. The place she went to when everything became too overwhelming to handle and she needed calm. Maya brings her hand on Lola’s shoulder, caressing it lightly. She knows the truth, the ugly truth and yet never made her feel guilty for it. “This smoke stinks like hell. I’m not sure our lungs will thank us later.” Maya tries, really tries, not to laugh at Jo failed attempts to not cover her nose near the fire. “Oh shut up — It’s not that bad, you’re just overdramatic! Saving the planet by picking up people trash smells worse, ADMIT IT.” At this point, Maya is laughing out loud because Jo fake-angry face is literally the funniest thing. “I’M NOT HEARING YOU.” Jo points at Maya with her index finger and then she brings it at her ear. She doesn’t get the answer she wants but still, she doesn’t needs it to be completely convinced of what she said.

“I heard that on friday there’s going to be another urbex party at the racecourse. We are definitely going, It’s been a while.” It’s Max that changes completely the topic of the discussion. He’s looking at his friends in search of a confirmation and immediately finds it in Sekou. “Of course! I promise this time I’m not to bore you with It’s story — but just so you know, I’m still bitter about that time you interrupted me.” He’s joking, his mouth open in a little laugh, but It’s clear that there’s a little bit of truth behind his words. “WE ARE GOING. You two —“ Jo indicates Maya and Lola, an amused look on their faces. “You better not ditch us this time! It’s my lucky week, I feel it. Maybe this time I will convince Eliott to repaint completely my scooter! I mean, if it lasts until friday...” She sighs, her scooter better last until friday because without it Jo wouldn’t know what to do. It has become a part of her. “You never change, Jocelyne.” Maya puts purposefully a little accent on her name and Jo sighs. “I’m free on friday. I can ask Eliott if he will be there as well — for your scooter.” Lola smiles at Jo and the latter throws her arms around her, holding her in a tight embrace. “I liked you since the first night, you know? Since you brought that bottle of vodka at the party! THANK YOU.” the girl keeps talking, still with her arms around her, but Lola isn’t listening anymore. Maya mouths her something along the lines of let’s get out of here and she’s done — by using a little force, she pulls away from Jo, that immediately takes a place on the couch, between Max and Sekou. “Okay, I think It’s enough for today. We should start going now, before the rain gets worse.” Now It’s Maya’s turn to tell a little lie, It’s for the better. How can you blame her for wanting a little bit of alone time with Lola? She gathers her backpack and pats Max on the shoulder. He will understand. Indeed, two seconds later he’s sitting up trying to get some common sense inside Jo and Sekou heads. “I lost ONE HOUR for this fucking fire and now you’re making me leave it? Seriously?” she snorts but eventually follows Max and Sekou, that in the meantime is collecting their things left on the floor.

The group makes it to the first floor of the building and the almost peaceful silence that surrounded them at the highest floor was completely gone. The sound of the rain seamed lauder, cars were racing in the streets covering poor pedestrians in muddy water. “We have a good 50% of probability of not catching a cold if we run extremely fast. Get ready!” Sekou is talking to Max and Jo. They live pretty near eachother, so they always come back home together.             “See you on friday then! Je vous aimes.” Maya likes to remind them sometimes that, in fact, she loves them. They are basically her adopted family.                Lola waves them goodbye and grabs Maya’s hand, taking her by surprise. She gives a confused look at the brown haired girl and the latter quickly teases her — again, just because she can now — “I run faster than you. I just want to make sure that you don’t remain too much behind me.” Lola smirks at her, holding her hand tighter. “Oh really? We’re going to my house. Behave or I won’t let you in.” The last words are spoken dangerously near Lola’s ear and she shivers.        This time It’s definitely not the cold breeze. She rolls her eyes and without replying she starts running, fast. Maya follows her without hesitation. The rains soaks them entirely but they don’t care, the andrenaline rushes through their bodies as they run with the promise of an hot chocolate and a soft comforter once home.

The warm of Maya’s house envelopes them immediately, making them let out a satisfied sigh. They quickly strip out of their rain soaked clothes and shoes, tip toeing towards the bathroom to dry themselves with a towel. In silence, Maya gives Lola a pair of sweatpants and a shirt, before dressing herself up. They didn’t exchange a word since they stepped into the apartment, but the silence and the lingering stares sit well with them.                                                      Maya prepares them hot chocolate, while Lola lays on the soft couch with the comforter wrapped up on her body. She wants this moment to lasts forever. She’s relaxed and her thoughts are not so overwhelming when she’s around. For a bunch of hours, she can just forget everything that still needs to be worked out in her life and concentrate only on feeling good. Maya joins her on the couch, leaving the two hot cups on the little table in front of it. Lola would never admit it, yet being the little spoon when they cuddle is her favourite. That’s why Maya takes place behind her, making her lay on her chest and gently strokes her hair. See? This is peace.

“I knew that the guys would love the tower.” Lola says, directing her eyes to meet Maya’s one. She’s smiling fondly at her, that type of smiles that makes Lola weak. “They liked it because they like you. And also, It’s an amazing spot to do urbex!” She bends a little to kiss Lola’s forehead, which grins at the contact. Maya’s lips are warm and soft on her skin, the light pressure of them is enough to make her want more. Closer, she thinks.                                                      She abruptly turns around, straddling Maya, getting into her lap — and just hugs her. She hugs her tight, just like she did the first time she woke up hungover in Maya’s house and cried in her embrace. This time she’s not crying, she’s not even smiling. The expression on her face is soft, grateful, because never in her life she tought she could find a person like Maya. A person that could make her feel all those good things, a person that could make her feel safe, that could bring her to the ground when the bad habits threaten to come back. Of course she goes to her therapist regularly now, but having Maya as a loving support is helping her a lot.                                                                                                  As always, Maya brings her arm around Lola’s back and, as she did with her hair, she starts stroking it. When they pull apart, minutes later, their fronts are touching and they can feel eachother breath on their mouth.

“I — Thank you for everything, I...” Lola tries with all her strength to put her feelings into words to let Maya know how much she means to her. The words eventually don’t come and she ends up blabbing some nonsense. Maya doesn’t interrupt her, rather she looks at her and licks her lips. That’s the breaking point for Lola. “Oh putain...” whispers and brings their mouth together in a soft kiss. Maya puts her hands on Lola’s cheeks, holding her, to have more control. It’s not rushed, It’s not full of carnal desire. It’s just full of love and understanding. They lose themselves in kisses and touches for hours, losing also the track of time. Outside is getting dark, until the only source of light It’s the moon shining outside the window. And Lola thinks, again,

this is peace.

.

[betterdaysareatoenailaway]

ON OVERDOSING

     I overdosed last year for the third time ever.      My previous two overdoses were intentional. I was trying to die. This was my first accidental overdose. The fentanyl looked fine to me, same bright blue it always was/is. I grabbed shortly after midnight, went home and used around 1am. I snorted a line and smoked an equal amount off a sheet of tinfoil (2 points or less). And that’s all I remember until waking up 15.5 hrs later @ 630PM.I have NO memory of a bad reaction. Not even a 2-3 second “woah, I don’t feel so go…” BLACKNESS. I recall NOTHING at all. This TTC subway map poster on my wall was torn down, suggesting I was in some kind of distress (balance? trying to reach my phone? No idea, but the poster is a gift I treasure from my ex-partner, so I wouldn’t have deliberately torn it down).

     I woke up in my bed fully clothed and on top of the blanket, suggesting I walked over to the bed and lay down. But I have no memory of doing so. I was alone. Not using with anybody.      This OD was very frightening to me because, as a former alcoholic (drunk daily for more than 10 years) and 6-year opiate user (3 years Oxycodone, 3 years heroin), I have NEVER blacked out. Not once. I remember everything, even from the 2 previous ODs. But this time…nothing. At first I thought maybe “hmm…well if I don’t remember anything, maybe I was awake and moving around and just in a fugue state?” (this seemed less scary somehow). I checked my phone. No texts sent, the ones received hadn’t been read. No history in my browser. No posts on Instagram or Twitter. I can only conclude that I was lights out that whole time. From 1AM to 630PM…that’s 15.5 hours. More than two full nights’ sleep. It scared the shit out of me.      I called my drug dealer immediately after waking and told him he may have a bad batch. “Yeah I think so. 3 of my customers died today.”      Not his fault. He didn't know. He would never knowingly sell lethal drugs. He told me I could return the bad fent and he’d give me a diff strain. I was too spooked to even do that. Felt fucked up and weird for several days afterwards.      I’m thinking it was a benzo. Not bragging, but I can take a LOT of opiates. I’m on the highest dose of methadone a single provider can give you in Ontario. You CAN go higher than 120mg, but you need two doctors to sign off on it, a complete physical, and a compelling reason to convince said doctors. I’ve drank 120mg of methadone and used 3 grams of heroin in the same day without feeling sleepy. 3 grams = $600. And benzos have been showing up in fentanyl and heroin with alarming regularity since 2020, probably bcuz border shutdowns have made moving drugs more difficult. (This chart is admittedly from BC, but Ontario is every bit as affected by COVID border shutdowns and lockdowns.)

     Whatever it was, it killed 3 people and if it knocked me out for 15.5 hours, it probably almost killed me. I’m very grateful that it didn’t. I’d been using alone for so long without a problem that it didn’t even occur to me that night that I was in danger.      But that’s how slight the margin for error is with fent. If I’d injected, I have no doubt that I’d be dead right now. Brrrr. Be careful and always have Naloxone and always use with someone else if you can. Your spotter should ALWAYS wait 5-10 mins before doing it, just to make sure YOU aren’t ODing. I know that feels like an eternity when yr dopesick, but it’s better than being dead for eternity. What the fuck would my cat Cookie have done if I’d died?

[irarelypostanything]

Unnecessary Arguments - The Boys

*Spoilers*

Person #1: Before we have this argument, I want you to know I haven’t watched season two yet

Person #2: Spoiler - this is a show produced by Amazon about horrible, evil corporations like Amazon

Person #1: Why is that everyone’s opening argument? I don’t care who produced it

Person #2: Honest Trailers called it a show about “a horrifying, bleak world that’s almost as bad as Amazon warehouses.” Tech companies control the world now, and they’re playing this insane, 5-dimensional Chess because they already know their only threat is other tech companies. Everyone loved that Netflix documentary about how addicting Facebook and Instagram are. Guess who they didn’t roast? You guessed it, Netflix

Person #1: If my package doesn’t arrive in two days, I get a refund. If I find a cheaper option on Ebay, either I don’t get it or the fking cops knock on my door and inform me that the $200 laptop I purchased was stolen. This isn’t even what we’re arguing, though…

Person #2: Right, we’re arguing whether or not this is a good show. It is not

Person #1: Why not?

Person #2: Why was The Avengers so successful? The special effects? The acting? No, it was so successful because the writers made heroes we could relate to and care about. Every time they did something, like collateral damage, heroes like Stark had to deal with the serious consequences. Now, here’s an Amazon series opening in season 2 with a superhero filling a cup of water with a civilian’s own blood, getting partially burned alive, then taking a young child’s father’s head to him. It’s sooooo edgy

Person #1: I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU NOT TO SPOIL SEASON 2

Person #2: Oh, next spoiler. Someone has the ability to make heads explode. Next spoiler, that person is actually-

Person #1: STOP

Person #2: So in this show, the bad guys are the heroes and the superheroes are the bad guys. I could work with that, but they just kill people left and right without any sort of regard for who they’re hurting

Person #1: Yeah. Little dose of reality for you

Person #2: Nothing about this show is real. They have all these crazy superpowers that make absolutely no sense, and that’s not even the worst of it. The worst of it is that even though I can suspend my disbelief with the superpowers, the NON-superpowered characters keep doing things that no one can do. Like pick a lock to get out of prison with a retainer. Or completely nonsensical hacking scenes

Person #1: Yes, because no one has ever successfully run Linux commands on a computer they had access to or used a lock pick to pick a lock

Person #2: I get what they’re trying to do. They’re trying to make a TV series that subverts expectations of superheroes and makes us consider that maybe it’s all a show. Great. Want a good show about the reality behind Hollywood? Watch Bojack. Want a show with morally ambiguous superheroes? Watch Watchmen, or the other various stories thoroughly examining this trope

Person #1: They successfully deconstruct everything wrong with The Avengers with cold realism

Person #2: If so, they also deconstruct everything good about The Avengers in the process

Person #1: My favorite thing is how they challenge all of our ideas. What if Superman...it’s actually DC, mind you...were real? He’d be terrifying, especially if you eliminated his heartwarming backstory of getting raised by benevolent common people in a farm. Aquaman? He’d be a sexual predator

Person #2: Yeah. For sure. Aquaman would be a sexual predator, QED

Person #1: They draw a mirror to reality. They make us question our own obsession with superheroes. Also, they brilliantly highlight all the implications of bringing them into the defense industry. Few superhero stories do a good job of portraying the military and defense industry

Person #2: Iron Man really did it all already. Stark Industry was doing more harm than good because its own weapons were being used against our allies...true. But at least they were competent, the other defense contractors weren’t even producing useful weapons. Also check. That’s really all there is to say about the defense industry

Person #1: That they’re incompetent? Tell that to the brave men and women who risked their lives flying our jets and wielding our guns

Person #2: Courtesy of Stark Industries. If Stark Industries were real, they’d be the highest rated defense contractor by far. Iron man suits for all. The United States would dominate every country until Thanos arrived, and they’d seriously pad everyone’s 401K

Person #1: I feel like we kind of lost our points here

Person #2: No more to make. Avengers is great, this is edgy shit that seems like it was written by two teenage boys who just learned their first swear words

Person #1: No matter what I say next, you’re just going to close with how its dumb because it was produced by Amazon

Person #2: ...and this can now be streamed for FREE. All you need is an Amazon Prime account. All your goods, many of which are MANUFACTURED by Amazon, will arrive in two days!

Person #1: This isn’t about-

Person #2: Hell, while you’re at it, why not purchase the Amazon Prime credit card? 5% cashback! All you have to do is remain an Amazon Prime member for the rest of your life. What could go wrong?

Person #1: STOP!

Person #2: ...And now that you’ve effectively outsourced all your banking and entertainment to Amazon, why not subscribe to Whole Foods to get all your groceries? Amazon controls our products, our deliveries, and now our entertainment. Who will check this godlike power? No one, of course. So let’s just keep watching this show and thinking we’re “woke” because it’s not just a poorly disguised attempt to use the very system it’s pretending to criticize to keep us under corporate control

Person #1: It’s just a good show. Watch it. Great acting, great writing

Person #2: READ THE COMIC INSTEAD

Person #1: Oh hey, you can buy the comic on Amazon

Person #2: THIS IS THE END OF CIVILIZATION. AMAZON WILL RULE THE WORLD AND THERE’S NOTHING WE CAN DO TO STOP IT.

[setmeatopthepyre]

Mental Health Tips

So, I was looking through my mood tracker recently and realized there’s been a gradual but undeniable increase of good days and a decrease of bad days, and it hit me that yeah, I have been doing better and better. I’m not being hyperbolic when I say that getting my ADHD diagnosis in January was a life changer. There’s a (great) book on ADD called You Mean I’m Not Lazy, Stupid or Crazy? and that was exactly how I felt. Wait, all the things I’ve been struggling with, all the times I beat myself up over my lack of discipline or worried that I had a brain tumor because I’d forget things in seconds or thought I might be bipolar because I could go from the highest highs to extreme lows multiple times a day, that was all because of one thing? Amazing!

Anyway, realization is one thing. Then there was medication (also a life changer), and therapy, and look where we are now! Over the past year I’ve learned a few things that have had a huge positive impact on my mental health, and I thought they might be useful for others struggling with their mental health, whether it’s ADHD or something else.

You’re not the only one

Just to start off nice and cheesy, but it’s true. The reason it might feel like you’re the only one dealing with what you’re dealing with and struggling to do what seems so easy to others, is because mental health is still stigmatized and not something people generally talk about. But that doesn’t mean they don’t know it.

When I got my diagnosis, I talked about it a lot. Part of it was hyperfocus; it was something that was on my mind a lot so it became my one subject to fall back on. However, another part of it was knowing that if I’d known what ADHD really was earlier, my life would have been so much better so much sooner. At times I was sure I brought it up too much, but I’m glad I did. Being open about my mental health issues made people around me open up about theirs. Whether it’s people you know IRL or a tumblr page with mental health memes, that affirmation that other people have the same quirks and struggles as you do helps so much.

The bare minimum is better than nothing

Yes, it’s obvious. It’s still something I struggle with because there’s that little voice that goes ‘yes, but I should be able to do more’. Guess what? That there thought qualifies as not one, but two negative thinking patterns: should-statements and all-or-nothing thinking. Just because you think you should be able to do something doesn’t mean that’s the best choice for you, or realistic. Besides, who says you should? Society? Society knows nothing.

Thinking you should just be able to do all your dishes but getting overwhelmed at the prospect of doing so isn’t helpful. Washing a single dish, or even just rinsing one because that’s all you can manage? That’s still better than nothing.

That said, yes, strive for progress over perfection, but remember that progress is not the bare minimum. Sometimes, the bare minimum is maintaining the status quo, or even just making sure things get slightly less worse than they could have. And that is okay.

Remove steps & automate

Speaking of which: often it’s possible to make the absolute minimum easier. How? By removing obstacles, simplifying things so that they don’t take as many steps or spoons to complete. If your laundry basket is in the bathroom while you tend to undress in your bedroom, that’s where you move your laundry basket. Personally, even having a laundry basket with a lid on it is too many steps for me most of the time. If I can’t chuck my dirty clothes right in, they end up in a pile on the floor. Solution: my laundry basket is within throwing range and doesn’t have a lid.

It only has to work for you

Sure, society dictates that clean clothes go in a wardrobe or a dresser. That’s just the way it’s done. But guess what? When clean clothes start piling up all over my room because I can’t bring up the energy or focus or whatever to put them away, I break out boxes. One box for clean laundry. One box for clothing I’ve worn but isn’t dirty yet. And then the laundry basket goes right beside those boxes in my room, in plain sight. That’s my system until I feel better. If I’m feeling up for it, there’s an extra box so that I can divide my clean clothes up between ‘large’ (aka pants and shirts) and ‘small’ (underwear and socks) to make it easier on myself when I get dressed. Did my laundry? Clean clothes go in the clean clothes box. Wore something but it still smells okay and there’s no stains? Toss them at the ‘worn’ box.

Is it how “things are done” normally? No. Does it mean my clothes are even more crumpled than usual? Yes. However, it also means that there’s less clutter in my room, it’s easier to find something to wear, and there’s less risk of me just living in a pile of trash because my room’s a mess anyway.

Your idea of progress may be different from others. Your coping mechanisms might not work for other people. Your adaptive behaviours may not line up with societal expectations, and that’s fine! In fact, that’s more than fine, because they shouldn’t. They only have to work for you.

Remove forks

So the whole spoon theory is fairly well known in mental health circles, but reading about the Fork Theory was an eye-opener for me. It’s explained here, but because reading that article is another extra step (ooh, so meta), here’s the most important bit:

You know the phrase, “Stick a fork in me, I’m done,” right?

Well, Fork Theory is that one has a Fork Limit, that is, you can probably cope okay with one fork stuck in you, maybe two or three, but at some point you will lose your shit if one more fork happens.

A fork could range from being hungry or having to pee to getting a new bill or a new diagnosis of illness. There are lots of different sizes of forks, and volume vs. quantity means that the fork limit is not absolute. I might be able to deal with 20 tiny little escargot fork annoyances, such as a hangnail or slightly suboptimal pants, but not even one “you poked my trigger on purpose because you think it’s fun to see me melt down” pitchfork.

This is super relevant for neurodivergent folk. Like, you might be able to deal with your feet being cold or a tag, but not both. Hubby describes the situation as “It may seem weird that I just get up and leave the conversation to go to the bathroom, but you just dumped a new financial burden on me and I already had to pee, and going to the bathroom is the fork I can get rid of the fastest.”

It’s close to the whole ‘removing steps’ thing, but less about making a task easier and more about giving you space to deal with things.

What this means for me is that when I’m having a less than stellar day mentally, I pay extra attention to what clothes I put on in the morning. Nothing too tight, nothing even slightly scratchy. It may be a tiny fork in the morning, but if I’m in a socially difficult situation, it might be a tiny fork too many that will lead to me being overwhelmed or overstimulated. I need to make sure I’m as comfortable as absolutely possible, aka remove as many forks as I can. Sometimes this means shaving my legs even though I think it’s bullshit that I care about that, or wearing clothes that draw as little attention to me as possible. No, I don’t want to care about what others think, but the truth is that part of me does, and I can’t change that right that instant. What I can do is minimize the chance that I get overwhelmed on an already stressful day.

Forks don’t have to be annoyances. They can also be tasks you keep putting off or something you keep reminding yourself of. Sometimes having a self-care day for me means doing all the easy things I’ve been meaning to do for ages but haven’t gotten around to. Sometimes it’s writing down all the things that are buzzing around in my brain, just so that I can assure myself I don’t have to remember them anymore because they’re on paper now. Sometimes it’s turning off notifications for specific apps because seeing them pop up makes me feel guilty when I’m not in the right frame of mind to respond.

Sometimes removing a fork costs spoons, like when I’m at a restaurant with a friend and I know that sitting in a spot where people walk by behind me is a pretty big fork for me, but removing it means asking them if they mind switching spots. That’s when it helps to be open about what you’re dealing with, because most of my close friends know by now that I always prefer to sit with my back to a wall, and I don’t even have to ask.

Compromise and automate

Back to the should-thinking. Sometimes removing forks means throwing all the shoulds out the window because they just aren’t working right now, and you’ll get back to them later. As I mentioned earlier, I don’t think I should care about what other people think, but I’m not there yet, so sometimes making life easier for me means compromising on that and conforming to societal standards if I know I’m going to need everything I have to get through a day. Another example: I feel like I should buy whole vegetables and cut them myself and cook my own meals, because pre-cut and prepackaged things are often more expensive and just contribute to more plastic waste. Okay, cool, but that ideal version of me who has the time and energy to do that hasn’t shown up yet, and in the meantime I need to eat. Buying a pre-packaged meal with actual vegetables in it is still cheaper than ordering pizza because I can’t get myself to cook, and it’s still healthier than trying to fill up on crackers because I couldn’t deal with the social aspect of opening the door for the pizza delivery. 

Sometimes, in order to remove steps, you have to compromise. Sometimes, in order to remove another worry (aka fork), you have to automate. When I first started on meds, I would write down the time I took them, calculate when I’d need to take my next dose, and set an alarm. It made me procrastinate taking my next dose, because it was too many steps. There was an app that did all that for me, but I thought it was ridiculous to pay for an app that did exactly what I should be able to do myself. 

I bought the app. I tap one button and my phone sends me a notification when my next dose is due. I have my phone on silent/no vibrate all the time, because notifications are overwhelming to me, so I have an activity tracker watch that lets me reroute only specific notifications to my watch, and now my watch vibrates when I need to take my next dose. I know this isn’t an option for everyone because obviously those things cost money (and it just goes to show how life is so much easier for the rich because they can automate so much), but if there’s any way to turn something you have to do often into something that will do itself mostly on its own, it may be worth looking into. Yes, even when you think you should be able to do it yourself. 

Are you sure the thing you’re worrying about is a problem?

This may seem super simple and obvious, but I legit had to change the ‘worry flowchart’ my therapist gave me to have an extra first step: ‘Do I have proof the problem exists?’ Spoiler: most of the time the answer is no.

I’m running late, I’m not sure if I’m going to make my bus to work. I’m stressing out about what will happen if I’m late. Maybe my superiors will get angry at me. Maybe this will be one too many times. But guess what? I don’t know if I’ll miss the bus. I might still make it. Until I know for certain that I’m going to be late, there’s no use worrying about what might happen. Even if I end up being late, I don’t have any proof that my superiors will be angry with me. I don’t know yet if the problem even exists, so why act like it does?

Another example: I can beat myself up over the fact that people think I’m lazy because I need to take a break. I feel terrible. I don’t want them to think I’m lazy! I can’t relax even though I desperately need to take a break. I told my therapist, and he asked me for proof. Do I have irrefutable proof that people think I’m lazy? Of course not, that’s an assumption I make. Am I a mind reader? No, I just tend to assume the worst. Okay, so why am I worrying about it if I’m not even sure the problem actually exists? Right.

This is not a moral failing and it does not affect your worth

Building on that: even if people think I’m lazy (and I don’t have proof that’s true!), that doesn’t mean their opinion is fact. Their perception of me is not a moral failing on my part. My therapist made me provide proof for and against the hypotheses that I was lazy, and there was way more proof against that statement. At the time, I was in school four days a week, working three, and had two other projects on the side. If, for example, my parents thought I was lazy for having no energy to do chores on my one free day in two months, (again, I had no proof they even thought that), they would’ve simply been wrong. They could’ve thought it all they wanted, but it did not mean I was lazy.

A lot of symptoms of mental health issues can be perceived by others as negative character traits, and that’s one of the reasons it’s so difficult to discuss sometimes. The thing is: their perceptions and opinions do not actually reflect on you or in any way determine your worth. Your brain going about things differently than theirs is as much your fault as needing glasses is (it isn’t).

And last but not least:

Emotion comes first (and goes last)

That sounds nice and cryptic, right? What I mean is that knowing your immediate reaction to something is unnecessary and that things aren’t as bad as they seem is different from feeling it. Your knee-jerk reaction is going to be emotion. Likewise, it’ll take a while before your emotions catch up with where your brain is going when you reroute your thoughts away from negative places.

The RSD, or Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, that comes with ADHD means that sometimes I have extreme negative emotional reactions to situations. When someone responds a little less enthusiastically than what I’m used to, for example, or when friends talk about something they did without me (even if I wouldn’t have wanted to do that particular thing and they know that), or even when someone didn’t hear what I said, it can cause this void to just open up in my chest and swallow every sense of happiness I may have been feeling. It happens suddenly and drags me straight down to my lowest point.

Lately, in those moments, I’ve been able to check in with myself and analyze what it was that triggered this meltdown. Thanks mostly to therapy I can rationalize that things aren’t so bad, and I can claw my way out of that pit, but that always comes one step after that first instinctual emotional reaction. Likewise, knowing things are fine does not mean the negative emotions disappear straight away. They take some time to dissipate, and I’m a little more emotionally vulnerable for a bit while they do. Emotion happens first, and leaves last.

It can be disheartening. It can feel like progress isn’t being made, but that very realization is progress, even if you’re not feeling it yet. Emotions follow the path they know best, and if for you, like me, that path is automatically assuming the worst, you’re gonna feel the emotions associated with that for a while, even when you rationally know it’s all crap. The thing is, practice makes perfect, and redirecting your thoughts into a more positive direction will, eventually, make that path the easiest one to find. Your feelings may take a little while to figure it out, but they’ll find that path eventually.

I’m not saying I’m cured. I’m not saying I know everything. I have bad days and struggles and all that, but I have been doing better. 

I mentioned it briefly at the beginning of all of this, but I started tracking my mood in July. It’s just one general mood a day, which obviously doesn’t quite display the ups and downs I deal with, but I tried to log the average for the day. I started doing so because I sort of knew I was doing better and better but of course once you get used to something, it becomes the new normal and it’s hard to tell when progress happens, so I tracked it:

[irondadgroupie]

Bohemian Rhapsody: Chapter 5

We want to pretend like the week-long hiatus was planned @intoresus but honestly, we would be lying :D First was Easter and- you know what we are talking about. 

When May Parker received the call, it had been a bad sign from the very beginning. There weren’t many people that would call her during work. The number wasn’t Peter’s, so it couldn’t be him telling her he was inviting Ned over - or staying for another night at the Stark Tower. It was a stranger talking on the other end of the line, calmly but urgently. He refused to tell what had happened, or why she was asked to come in the first place, just repeated he’d send a driver to pick her up and bring her to the compound.

There she was now, in the back of a small limousine - a little extravagant, as was everything coming from Tony Stark, but at least she was getting where she needed to be and had a little more time to try and reach Peter. A part of her knew he wouldn’t pick up, but the bigger, more optimistic part was always expecting to hear his voice at the other end of the line, or a new message, but nothing. The last one was from eleven this morning:

Dishes are washed. Mr Stark’s picking me up for lunch in a few. Be back tomorrow.  

May didn’t exactly dislike Tony, but she wasn’t entirely warming up to him either. She knew he was trying to be supportive, and that Peter had lightened up since Stark had walked into his life. However, she questioned his behavior. What did Tony Stark want? It was a question that didn’t let her go. He appeared as if he really cared for her kid, but so had other people in Peter’s life - people who had ended up using him, in the truest sense of that word. May still felt sick thinking about it. Who was telling her that this was about Peter and not about Iron Man needing a side-kick superhero? Or about having the kid work on some ideas Tony could present as his own in the future?  

As far as she’d heard – the man wasn’t exactly a hermit - it wouldn’t have been the first time. Back in 2002, there had been a heavy accusation of Stark stealing an idea for using concepts that were rumored not to be his. The case was dropped two years later due to the lack of evidence, but with the amount of Tony Stark’s wealth, he might’ve just bribed the entire court. Peter could spend a day talking non-stop about how the man had changed over the course of the past few years, but May couldn’t shake off her doubts. No one could make a 180 change after being an arrogant and eccentric millionaire for half of his life. Peter had a general tendency to trust people too quickly and too easily, believing in the good in everyone, no matter if they deserved it or not. The fact that he’d worshipped Tony Stark for most of his life didn’t help with that either. That’s what was getting her anxious about the two of them spending so much time together: If it were really about Stark’s intention to exploit her boy, it would be easy for him, and Peter probably wouldn’t even realize anything until it was already too late.

Twenty unlucky calls later they reached their destination, and May was guided inside the building.

“Mrs Parker?” She heard it before she saw it, her worst fears coming true. The woman in front of her her was wearing scrubs. She was a medic.

“Yes,” May answered tonelessly. “I’m here for my nephew, Peter.”

“Sure. Follow me, please.” The worst part about the entire situation was that May had been working in the medical field for long enough to recognize patterns. They guided her away from the main area, because the news wouldn’t be good. Because they wanted her to have a private room, a place to sit down before they’d fill her in. And that was exactly what was happening.

“I have to inform you that your nephew has been involved in an animal-vehicle crash earlier this afternoon.”  

May heard the words, but their meaning didn’t put itself together. As if she was trapped in a nightmare. Getting the gist of a situation, nothing more. “He’s receiving the best medical care in this facility, I assure you.” Yet another typical sentence. Nothing with vital information.  

May needed it. Needed some information, at least whether or not Peter was alright.

“How is he?”  

The shuffle. A second offer for a glass of water. Again, May shook her head.

“He’s suffered something we call a hypothermia, which is factually a lowered body temperature, alongside a concussion and a splenic trauma. His vitals are stable at the moment. However, I am obligated to inform you that the severity of his injuries had caused a cardiac arrest. We managed to take control of it rather quickly, but Peter has unfortunately slipped into a coma.”

The universe around May Parker didn’t exist anymore. She’d heard all those words before. Screamed along hospital hallways, whispered between some doctors. All of them had a meaning that she was well aware of. The medic offered her sincerest apologies and suggested she’d bring her to Peter’s room whenever she felt ready but May ignored her. She wasn’t ready.

Barely a few years ago she had lost her husband.

And now they wanted to tell her that she almost lost her nephew by the skin of his teeth?

No. This had to be a nightmare, a very, very cruel nightmare.

Peter was at home, with Ned, building Lego sets.

In Stark’s lab, working on some secret inventions.

Maybe outside, as Spider-Man, saving ‘the little people’.

Safe.

Not in the ICU of a high-class medical facility.  

She barely listened to the explanation of how it had come to the crash in the first place. The only informations she tried to keep in her mind was how the current prognosis and future treatment looked like. “Tests came back promising, and we assume that his healing factor will continue to have a positive effect. However, we can’t yet tell when he’s going to wake up.”  

Her vision blurred by tears that refused to fall and the pain was so awful it literally made her feel hollow, as if she was helplessly sinking into quicksand.

Episodes of sadness had been a constant companion ever since Ben’s death, and usually Peter was helping her out. That’s what they always did: Cheering each other up - balancing each other out. But now? Now Peter couldn’t. Now it was on her alone.

They were about to explain her that he was currently still ventilated, due to his lungs needing to recover from the effects of drowning, when they entered the room.

Her first glance didn’t meet Peter - she doubted she would’ve recognized him under the thick blankets and with the countless wires covering him. But maybe it would’ve been good if that’s the first she saw. It would’ve anchored her.

Instead, the first thing she saw beyond the waterfall in her eyes was Tony Stark - One hand in her nephew’s hair, the other resting on his chest, mumbling something she didn’t comprehend. The first thing she saw was him.

The man who’d driven the car Peter got hurt in.

In that moment, he wasn’t Tony Stark anymore. Not Peter’s hero, not the man who’d rescued him after the crash.

He was the enemy.

“You-“ You did this. But the words didn’t leave her mouth, this cruelty was tying her tongue. She saw Tony looking up in what she believed to be shock and surprise.

“May- I'm sorry-“  

“No. Don’t you dare attempt to apologize. This - you did this!”

“May,” Pepper stepped forward and tried to grasp the woman's arm in comfort. “We are all upset and shocked about this. How about you sit down, I'll get you tea-“

“No, no tea can solve this! You people caused this! It was your car he was in and you were driving,” She screamed at Tony. Tears spilled from her eyes and her face was read with rage. “You promised to take care of him and you broke it! Why? Because he had that good idea before you and you needed him out of the picture?”

“What?” Tony whispered and his shock and resentment flushed away to disbelief. “- I saved him! That doesn't make any sense!”

“What do I know about you rich people? Intern in coma sounds better than a dead one.”

Tony opened his mouth and closed it in the same instant, his chest suddenly feeling way too tight to speak, or even move. Somewhere outside of his mind, Pepper was asking him to calm down in a tone as worried as he’d never heard it before - which was huge, given the condition the woman had seen him in already, physically and mentally. But on the inside, there were only two things repeating themselves, one after another.

Peter could be dead.

You did this.

“May, you need to be careful. Tony is also healing. He can't take much emotional stress or his heart-“ Pepper told as she helped her husband to the bed. He wasn’t fighting her, and Pepper realized that she hated this more than him arguing with her. It meant that May’s words, spoken in terrible grief, had left an invisible, but no less painful scar in Tony’s heart.

“Yeah, that can be easily arranged,” May sniffed. “I want you out.”

“What?” Tony whispered, eyes wide.

“Both of you, out. I don't want you anywhere near Peter or me. Only family is allowed and you are certainly not family. Leave us alone or I swear to God I am taking this to the court.”

“A lawsuit? She can’t be serious about that. What’d be the charges? Saving her nephew from drowning? We’re in America, not China, or the middle-ages.”  

Pepper kept her voice quiet only to avoid catching another deprecating glare from one of the night nurses. She and Rhodey stood outside Tony’s room in the long hallway. Although being on the possibly highest dose of non-anesthetic sedatives possible, Tony was in a light sleep, and Pepper did in no way intend to unnecessarily wake him. He needed rest, his heart and mind a break from conscious thinking. It had been hard enough to see how much the man had been suffering after May had insisted on him leaving. Doctors from both sides had tried to smooth down the conflict - arguing that it would be beneficial to both Tony and Peter’s conditions to not separate them, but May hadn’t listened. And with her being the boy’s legal guardian, there was nothing they could do about it.  

Tony had been devastated, in a way that Pepper had never seen him. He’d been crying, unresisted, the entire way back, and even after they’d shot him the sedatives to lower the risk of a further arrhythmia, he’d still mumbled “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry” until he finally fell asleep.

“She’s in shock.” Rhodey reasoned, and Pepper frowned at him in return.

“As is Tony. We all are. Hell, I certainly am.” Curses weren’t exactly in her typical daily word-repertoire, but this certainly wasn’t a typical day. “Gives her no reason to lash out at us that way. Her behavior could’ve caused Tony a heart attack and god knows I would’ve gone to court if that happened.”

“Pep.” Rhodey sighed. “She’s raised the boy.”  

He almost made a step backwards at the ice in Pepper’s eyes when she looked at him. “I’m not saying I understand what she did, I’m just -“ He massaged his temple. The day had been nerve-wracking and horrible, and he was slowly feeling the pay-off. “Just imagine it’d be your kid in there. You, I, we all know Tony the way he is. We’ve seen him grow over the years, we have seen evidence enough that he isn’t the 00’s Tony Stark anymore. He proves that to us every minute of every day.

“For May... For May he’s the man that everyone’s talking about. America’s most criticized person. Everyone who owns a functional TV has heard of him, and the media doesn’t have a reputation of showing people at their best. For May, he’s the billionaire superhero that supports her son fighting crime at night. She has no idea who he really is or how much he really cares. He’s honestly just that guy in the driver’s seat for her, but it’s her son that’s caught the worst of this crash, and she needs someone to blame, because otherwise, all of that might be too cruel to handle.”

Pepper did not answer, but the words stuck with her. After all, Rhodey might be right. From the outside perspective, with just the media as a source of information, she probably wouldn’t trust Tony either, no matter how hard it was to imagine that. To imagine that no one saw her Tony as the gentle, loving human being that he was.

“You’re staying with Tony till morning? I’ll leave her for the night, and hope she’s a little more at ease tomorrow. We can help her through this.”  

And Tony’s going to break if she refuses to let him see Peter for longer than a day.

Tony woke up in the middle of the night, feeling like someone had smashed a building right on top of him. He needed a while to recognize his surroundings, and to scan his memory for the reason for his pain. As soon as he did, he wished he hadn’t.

The worst seconds after trauma weren’t those when you’re confused about what’s been happening, but the flashes of minutes - hours even - burning themselves through your mind all at once.

His movie had an injured Peter as the main protagonist, and May’s angry voice as soundtrack. Her accusations stung. They stung, because after all, he’d thought that May would know him better than that.  

The story she was referring to had happened years ago.  

Some “upcoming star technician”, that had just started his small independent business, had denounced him because some of the blue-prints that Tony had used for filing a patent for his latest invention looked similar to his. It had become a top story; people believed it to be more realistic that a billionaire would steal ideas rather than a small company would use the indictment to sneak themselves some money and attention.

It wasn’t just that Tony’s ego was far too big to ever steal someone’s idea to enrich himself.  

He could never do something like that to Peter.

The project the kid had been working on every time he’d been in the lab for the past couple of months had grown into something solid. There were still some edges on it that’d need fine tuning and Tony had gladly volunteered to help fix those, but this would always be Peter’s invention entirely, his baby and he would make sure that he’d get all the well- deserved credit for it.  

He wouldn’t take that achievement away from the kid.

And he certainly wouldn’t cause a crash to... he couldn’t even finish the thought without feeling sick. His breathing would’ve quickened along with his heart-rate under normal circumstances, but with the amount of anti-arrhythmias rushing through his system, his body seemed to be stuck in its rhythm.  

That didn’t make the idea any less hurtful. The image of how different the day could’ve ended for both of them. A world without Peter Parker would be a gruesome world, without light or colors or sounds, just a hollow emptiness. That’s what Tony had almost pictured hell like: A hollow place.

Sleeping had become impossible now. If he’d close his eyes, he would always see the picture of Peter’s lifeless, pale body in front of him. But staring in the darkness didn’t help the awful feeling either.

Rhodey was sitting in the armchair next to his bed, head hanging on his shoulder, snoring lightly.  

For a moment, Tony considered waking him, aware that Rhodey would definitely be mad if he didn’t do it, but he had no intention to have the following conversation about how he felt, or that he should rest and not worry.

He turned his head to the other side, searching for the access button they’d given him that’d give him a light dose of painkillers if his pain became unbearable, but his eyes met something else: a metallic object glistening in the moonlight shining throught the window.

Oh please, let it be.

It was indeed his StarkPad, and Tony suddenly relaxed. This was better than painkillers. This would keep his mind busy enough for a while not to be sucked in the downward spiral of anxiety.

His arms moved sluggishly, and for a moment he feared he’d drop the Pad, but he managed to settle it quietly onto his lap.

A memo turned up.

You should really sleep, Tony.

But I love you, and I know you won’t, so take it easy right now.

Tony let out a breath and smiled weakly. Pepper had put up shortcuts to all his favorite music tracks and some brain-melting arcade games. However, Tony had other intentions. He couldn’t find it in himself to allow the distraction of playing simple mobile games - worse enough that Peter had infected him with that BlockMastery hype a few weeks ago - and music was the last thing he needed right now. He doubted he could ever listen to a rock song again. Not with one of them being so closely associated with this day.

No. He needed to do something else.

The ObserverSystem refused his command.

Access denied It reported, and Tony already frowned, checking the command protocols until he found the error: A foreign protocol called “Recover & Rest” that blocked all functions aside from games, music and video-platforms. Pepper knew him to well. But she should’ve known that this wasn’t keeping him from doing what he had to.

//Override. 496e76656e746f72 He typed, and the protocol was immediately turned off. The next burden didn’t come as a surprise, and the needed code was easier to type.

//Override. 50726f746563746f72

The system needed a few seconds before the medical database was fully loaded. After that, it was a matter of seconds to get the access to Peter’s data and connect himself to the kid’s vital monitors. Audio output was still turned off, and for almost a minute Tony just appreciated the wonderfully rhythmical spikes on screen and the ease that came with not having to wait for the sound underlying one of them.  

He changed audio delivery to his headphones and the rhythmic beeps audible were more calming than even the best movie soundtrack could ever be, because each of them meant that Peter’s heart had made another beat, each of them meant that for now, his kid was alright.  

It was the soundtrack that guided him to sleep.

[yoondoze]

playground escapades | n.jm

“it’s two in the morning, what are you doing here?” + “can i kiss you?” + jaemin 

pairing: na jaemin x reader

genre: pure unadulterated fluff uwu

word count: 1.7k

warnings: none

a/n: i got carried away so this is now a one-shot

You almost didn’t notice the way your phone on the nightstand lit up as you were too busy sulking in your bed.  However, instead of ignoring the glow, you made the decision to pick it up.

nana, 6:34 pm

we still on for tonight?

Upon reading the message, a shock of panic ran through your body. You had totally forgotten! Too caught up in drama with your family, your plans with Jaemin had completely slipped your mind.

you, 6:35pm

omfg i’m so sorry

i got grounded earlier because i failed my math test :( i can’t go out

nana, 6:37pm

what??

they GROUNDED you for a bad grade? wtf

you, 6:40pm

yeah, i know :(

nana, 6:42pm

when are you grounded til?

you, 6:43pm

for the next couple days, idk. when they do this i’ll usually wait four days before asking to go somewhere sooo

nana, 6:45pm

that’s absolutely unbelievable

is that even legal? that can’t be legal

that’s so unfair

You laughed to yourself at the texts he was sending through. You thought it was unfair, too, but there wasn’t much you could do about it besides face reality and put up with the punishment. He made it a bit better, though - it brought up one of your first smiles of the day.

you, 6:47pm

yeah, it is. but i’ll see you at school, at least. sorry i can’t go with you

nana, 6:48pm

not your fault. i’ll figure out something we can do, just wait ;)

The winky face had you tilting your head upon reading it. Wait? Wait for what?

you, 6:50pm

what does that mean?

nana, 6:50pm

just wait!! love u and see u soon <3

you, 6:50pm

...see you? love u too

Though you had no idea what the boy meant, you carried on with your night, setting down your phone before your parents could see you and take it away.

Clank.

You blinked at the sound of a small puttering sound echoing out in your room and turned over, tangling yourself in the warmth of your bedsheets.

Clank.

You buried yourself deeper in your covers to try to mask the noise.

Clank.

Frustrated, you reached for your pillow and folded around your head to shield your ears.

Clank.

You huffed, angrily climbing out of bed and treading over to your window. Ripping back the curtains, your heart nearly stopped when your eyes landed on the figure standing outside. You stumbled back in alarm, a gasp slipping from your mouth.

Then the figure waved. In the moonlight, you could make out a beaming smile - one awfully familiar to you. You sighed to yourself, pinching the bridge of your nose before flinging open the window, revealing your boyfriend with a cheeky simper laying comfortably on his face.

“Jaemin, it’s two in the fucking morning, what are you doing here?”

He chuckled. “I told you I’d see you soon, didn’t I?”

“I mean- yeah,” you sputtered, trying to keep your voice down, “but I didn’t think you’d be knocking on my window in the middle of the night!”

He shrugged in response. “My spontaneity is a surprising trait to most.”

You deadpanned, looking at him with a tired but deathly stare, but he only smiled. “Again, why are you here?”

“Well you see,” he started, “I think it’s unfair that your parents grounded you, so I’m here to give you the dose of fun you need!”

“...And how will you do that?”

“I’m sneaking you out, obviously!”

You felt your face scrunch up. “What? No - Jaemin, I can’t leave. They’ll kill me if they find out.”

“So we just have to make sure they don’t find out,” he replied with a mischievous grin plastered on his face.

“C’mon, it’ll only be for a little bit. You’ll be back before the sun rises, I promise.”

To top it off, he brought out his puppy eyes and pushed out his bottom lip in a plump pout. It was something he knew you couldn’t resist - while Jaemin was one of the most push and shove kind of characters you knew, you were absolutely weak for his tactics.

“Alright. Where are we going?”

“I’ll tell you when you get out here. It’s kind of cold out so you should probably put on a jacket, and maybe some pants, too, unless you’re feeling frisky,” he teased, making your face flush hot.

You crept around your room carefully and slipped on some joggers and grabbed a sweatshirt hanging from the back of your door. You pulled it over your head and made your way back to the window and widened it open as far as it could go.

You were in good fortune that your bedroom was on the first floor - there was no way you’d be able to sneak out by trying to walk out of the back door due to the horrible squeakiness of the floorboards.

Carefully, you popped out the screen and laid it on the floor, then gently hooking your legs over the sill. Jaemin aided your maneuver with his hands on your sides, lowering you out slowly. Then, you plopped onto the ground behind the shrubs.

You wiped your hands on your thighs. “Okay, so now where are we going?”

“You’ll see when we get there,” he said simply.

“Na Jaemin,” you sighed, shaking your head, “you’ll be the death of me.”

He smirked. “But for now, I’m the life of you.”

He clasped his hand with yours and pulled you off, crouching down slightly behind the cover of foliage even though you were almost certain that there would be no one awake to spot you.

The walk wasn’t far, but there wasn’t much conversation between the two of you - only small giggles and shy smiles. It felt odd, but there wasn’t a sick feeling in your stomach like always when you were doing something like this. You hated not following the rules, you hated getting in trouble, and you certainly never snuck out... That is, until you met Jaemin.

At the same time, there was a rush of excitement that went against your desire to turn around and run home, to tuck yourself into bed before anyone found out. 

Soon, he stopped walking and spread his arms out, motioning to the land before him.

“...the park?” You asked.

“No, silly - the playground!”

You shook your head but followed after him when he took off toward the large structure in the center of the wood chips.

He skipped up the stairs happily, and you thought that the playground was the perfect place for a boy like Jaemin. Of course he’d want to take you to a place full of good memories and the purity of childhood youth, wouldn’t he? It was exactly what he embodied as a person.

You slid your hands along the colorful handrails as you climbed up, spinning some of the wheels and flipping the blocks along the way.

At the top of the slide was where Jaemin was perched, sitting crisscrossed in its dark green plastic mouth.

You sat down across from him and reached over for his hand, pulling it into your lap as you laced your fingers with his.

His head turned out to look over the open fields surrounding the small area of woodchips. Multiple overgrown baseball fields sat between the playground and the treeline, everything empty and bare. 

“Isn’t it amazing?” He asked, “you know, being here all alone.”

You nodded in agreement, looking through the slits of the slide out across the other equipment. This was the highest point of the park, and you could even see a few twinkling lights from town far away.

“I don’t know about you, but whenever I’m here at night, time doesn’t feel… real. It’s like we don’t even exist because no one’s here to see. It’s just us.”

“Yeah, I think I know what you mean,” you said, “It feels nice. It feels good. Like I belong in this place, where there’s no reality to return to... like I’m a kid again.”

The corners of his mouth tugged up. “Exactly.”

So close up, you could see how the soft moonlight shone on his face, putting a certain glow in his eyes that made you feel like you were falling in love all over again. When he drew you in with his gaze, you thought that maybe you were buried deep in those thoughts, like how he was in yours.

“Can I kiss you?”

The direct question had you hanging your head down in embarrassment. Jaemin was bold, you knew, but it never failed to catch you off guard. You bit your lip, trying to fight back a grin before coming back up with a small “yes.”

With your response, he immediately leaned in. His hand rushed up to its place on the side of your face, lips gently pushing against your own.

A delicate kiss to fit the delicacy of childhood memories, you supposed.

If you focused hard enough, let yourself go in the moment, you could be there again; Back to a time so pure and without worry. You could get lost in that place of innocence.

But then Jaemin was there again, bringing you back to reality. He was a reminder that the real world, the now world, was still good - your memories stayed with you always, both in a playground and out. You could grow up without leaving it behind. If Jaemin wasn’t living proof of that, then you didn’t know what was.

Giggles escaped his mouth when he pulled back, neck craning up to look at the stars above. You knew he was trying to hide a blush, but you wouldn’t tease him for it.

After letting out a large exhale, he prompted, “It’s getting late. Why don’t we get you home?”

You hummed quietly in thought. “I think…” you said, watching as his signature smirk began to rise on his face, knowing just what you were about to say, “that we should stay a little longer.”

[70swonderpoisonstark]

Poison ( III )

Villain’s are people too, are they not? (Y/N) is taking the “home grown” terror title a little too seriously. You’re really really bad, until you meet a certain super soldier who makes you consider a career change. It’s a lengthy process, but you’re willing if it’s for the right reasons. Maybe you’re not so bad after all? 

//basically poison ivy and a little bit of bane but with marvel characters?? I’d be original but I love her and them so much so sorry. also some changes, idk I’m making them my own but completely based of the DC characters SNS. Nickname Ivy, real name, yours duh!//

***this is my first attempt at fanfic so any feedback is welcome! I love all these characters dearly so, here goes nothing! Hope you enjoy***

A/N: Violence, language, crime. I’ll update these as the chapters come out

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The charity auction was the perfect place to snag Green. They knew you frequented places of high wealth, and always took a chance when it came to diamonds. After another couple months of stake-outs, recon, and blackouts from various team members, they'd finally discovered a pattern.

"You've got to hand it to this girl, she sure knows how to stay under the radar. I bet everyone who's ever came into contact with her just see's a pretty girl in a known hang-out for wealthy men and just written her off. Brilliant, if I'm allowed to say that about a villian." Tony made multiple points. Green, as you were coded, were so stealthy, that until further investigation, they never realized you had been at this for years. Stealing from the wealthy for whatever reason you chose, causing entire buildings to erupt into chaos, you were good, really good. And the man you always had with you had no record, absolutely nothing. No address, occupation, they could only pull up a name and a birth month and that was it. Viktor Alexeev, April. The only way they could link him to any of the crimes at all was through his ring. It had a giant emerald in the middle, with a black snake curled around it, almost like a family crest, but different.

They walked in to the grand ballroom in pairs, Nat and Steve, Tony and Wanda, Bruce and Thor, and Bucky all by himself coming in last. They scattered around the room, sitting, standing, examining vantage points, and checking for alternate routes of escaping if the entire place went to shit.

"Everybody in position?" Natasha said over the coms. Five checks and yes's later, they were ready to mix and mingle, and wait for the main event to start.

Once everybody had a couple drinks in them, and had finally began to settle down, a mic BOOMED throughout the room.

"Ladies and gentleman, tonight's host, Andante Forester!" A gorgeous blonde in a very tight pink cocktail dress introduced a tall, dark skinned man in a white suit. He took long, slow strides up to the mic, being sure to wave and acknowledge multiple people in the ground on his way. He took the mic, raising it to his towering height, and spoke.

"Thank you Mindy. Good evening everybody, as you now know I'm Andante and I've decided to gather you all here to raise money for a very charitable cause. I have always had a need to serve others, my whole life since I came over from Egypt has been about ensuring my family's safety and stability. It wasn't until I realized that the same dedication to them, was also involved with my schooling that I realized I was so much more than just a caretaker. My journey has been long, and vast, and trying, but now I'm here, talking to all of you, harnessing your attention and persuading you to donate to a movement that has our best future in mind. I'm simply a man, with the means to do something for the world, and the will to see it through. So tonight, I've gathered a few lovely ladies, and a very sizable jeweled necklace deep from within the vaults of cartier, for you to take out. The man, or woman, who places the highest bid on each of our willing participants will be allowed to take our lovely ladies on a date to a public location, escorted by my own personal security of course, with this dazzling piece of jewelry hanging from her neck." And on cue, the necklace was wheeled in by three armed guards. It was massive, Andante explained it was 70 carats of the highest quality diamonds and sapphires ever crafted. Each girl was named after a gemstone, all dressed accordingly. There was Ruby, Jade, Opal, Onyx, Amber, Pearl, and Sapphire.

"Any of the seven girls on stage look like our target?" Facial recognition was good, but with the talents of this particular pair, they could never rely on that alone.

"Negative, Natasha. Our girls a (your race) red-head, these girls are either blonde, brunette, asian, white, african, or middle eastern, either one or the other, never our combo." Steve spoke.

"Any one of them can be my target. The kinky curls on Sapphire, with the bright blue dress, dark skin, and that confident smile? If she's not already a model, I'll figure out a way to make her one." Tony utters longingly into his radio.

"According to facial recognition Tony, she's a Harvard grad that owns and runs one of the most successful law firms in New York. If only you weren't already in love, huh?" Natasha and her facial recognition, she always new everything about everybody she sees, the constant paranoia probably helps too.

"Back on topic ladies and gentleman. I've got suspicious activity on the edge of the crowd, men and women alike are in a dream like state, still conscious, just... swaying." The bidding was still going like crazy, every girl had at least $100,000 bid on them, but Bucky was right, the crowd was slowly becoming dazed and disoriented, no chaos this time, everybody just seemed... high.

"She's here, keep your eyes peeled, we can't lose her this time or Fury will...." Natasha trailed off for a moment before she continued. Her tone this time much more serene, and her speech slow. "Guys, the jewels from here are just so, sparkly. They look so clean.. I want pretty necklace.."

"Natasha? Natasha? Nat. I need you to snap out of it, we need to focus and... you're right Natty, gem sparkle, lots of gems pretty together." Steve and Nat were dosed, completely taken in by the calm wave that broke over the two of them. It wasn't long before it hit the others. Soon every member of the team was high as a kite, talking about clean gems and bright lights, pretty dresses, anything and everything that DIDN'T pertain to the mission.

Bucky was slightly more resistant to whatever it was making them act like fools. He watched as the same dazzling red head came in, charmed everyone on stage, blew rose colored dust from the palm of her hand and waltz off the stage with a ten million dollar necklace hanging around her neck. As you passed by Bucky, he attempted to reach out and grab your arm, only to realize he was succumbing to your love inducing air additive. You paused briefly before looking him up and down, recognition fluttering in your eyes as you walked to stand in front of the super soldier you had previously met.

"Hiya there, sugar. I see you remember me. Don't worry, I remember you too. Thanks for the necklace." You said before presenting your jeweled chest, "I really do think it compliments my eyes, whatdaya think?" you winked and posed, pulling the slit in your dress to the side, exposing your beautiful thick legs.

"I think they..."Bucky tried hard to fight the high as he spoke. "Don't match... your.. outfit." He smiled weakly, hoping his joke came across that way and he wasn't about to get knocked out again on one of these missions. He had became unconscious more on these missions than anybody else on the team, barely remembering anything at all, except for what came back to him in dreams. To Bucky's surprise you giggled at his little joke and placed yourself closer to him.

"Bucky, baby, I wish you did remember all the times we've met. I've grown to be quiet fond of our little chats." You raised your opposite hand and blew something directly into his face. "If you don't hurt me, I'll let you remember this time." You placed your back up against Bucky's chest and wrapped his metal arm across her throat. "You wouldn't hurt me, would you?" You looked up at Bucky with your sad (Y/E/C) eyes and he shook his head no. He had hurt many people in his life, and you just couldn't be one of them. The effects of whatever made him dreamy slowly wore off, and he finally felt the cold your body seemed to radiate.

"If you're noticing the temperature difference, you've said it reminds you of Christmas morning in Brooklyn when you were younger. 1936, younger I think." Bucky memorized every feature of your face, it was soft, your nose was short, with a crooked bridge, big rosy cheeks, and, freckles? Definitely freckles underneath the makeup you were wearing. Your eyes shined like the moon as you glanced up at him. You appeared so gentle, how did you ever become SHIELD's most wanted. You removed yourself from under Bucky's arm and allowed him to regain his senses.

"I like you, Bucky. You never seem to quit, but every time I give you the upper hand you never take it." Your seductive demeanor paused as you spoke, Bucky had a nagging feeling that this was actual honesty coming from you. He felt things too, but you had your ways of making him feel certain ways, so it probably was just another affect. "If you're wondering if you're still under my spell, you're not." Well there goes that idea. "There's something weird about you. I don't like it, not one bit." You circled him slowly, trailing your perfectly manicured finger across his torso. "I know you still see me as the bad guy and all the other cliches; however, if you want to arrest me, good luck, but, if you're willing to talk to your super friends, I've left a list of the REAL charities in this area who have received sizable donations every time I've 'made a stop' in your jacket pocket." A soft grin manifested over your cherry red lips. "I know you won't remember all of this, but I'm sure y'all are smart enough to figure it out." You kissed him on his cheek, leaving a faint lipstick mark in its place, blew a low dose of plant hormone in his face and spoke one last time. "Everybody's effects will wear off in about fifteen minutes, yours won't, but they'll know what to do with you. And I go by Ivy, by the way. Your friends can stop calling me green." You adjusted yourself, and spoke not to him, but to your henchman. "Viktor darling, it's time for our grand exit." A large blast was then heard on the east wall, crumbling a hole large enough for the hulk to walk through, you turned to look at Bucky one last time, and then slipped away into the darkness of the night. Leaving Bucky unconscious, yet again.

"I'm starting to worry about the long term effects of him being unconscious this often. We have no idea what he's being dosed with or what it's doing to him."

"Well Cap, I'd say it's knocking him out entirely, wouldn't you?" Bucky was slowly coming too, the arguing voices of Tony and Steve rarely stopped after these missions.

"Weren't you in charge of making sure things like this stopped happening? She's taking us out at the same time and stealing millions of dollars right in front of our faces and you can't seem to do a damn thing about it Tony!"

"Right, because tossing that metal frisbee at her in your drunken state was a much better contribution. Thank you for your service, you truly are a patriot Steven." Bucky could no longer tell if his head hurt due to his possible concussion, or Steve and Tony bickering like old maids.

"Could you two can it? What's a guy gotta do around here to get some peace and quiet?" Bucky groaned as he sat up. The whole team crowded him in about .5 seconds, basically suffocating him again with the same questions they always asked after he fell. Only this time, he actually remembered what happened.

"Yes." The room went silent, all eyes were bulging and staring directly at Bucky, gazes unwandering, he could feel the tension between everybody. He knew they all thought he'd caught a lead, that Green, Ivy, had made a mistake, but he didn't have a lead, he just had a name, and an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach.

"Yes what? You, remember? Like the whole everything?" Memory loss was common after interacting with Ivy, the whole team could barely remember bits and pieces of all their interactions. If it weren't for security cameras and Tony and Rhodey's body cams, they'd know absolutely nothing about who and what they were dealing with.

"Yes all of it, she let me remember, made sure I did, even gave me a name." Stunned, every single person in the room had shock written on their foreheads. She had always been very discreet, moved in the shadows but always did the dirty work. She was cunning, and ambitious, they'd never gotten more than an appearance, and even that was spotty. Now they had a name, something was going on and they all knew it. She wasn't an ordinary villain, this was something unique. Bucky explained the entire scene, never once interrupted. As he finished, he saw the wheels turning, everybody had questions, nobody understood, why had she basically given up? And why to Bucky?

"So she said she likes you, gave you her name, and actually put herself in a chokehold with your arm?" Bucky nodded yes, not really believing it himself.

"Where's the list?"

"The what?"

"You said that she slipped a list of places in your pocket, where is it?"

"I'd assume in my pocket since I've been unconscious till now, Steve." Bucky rifled through his pockets, starting with the lower ones, he checked his jacket pockets and nothing. It was until he checked the breast pocket of his jacket behind his handkerchief that he found the list. It was three pages long, and had the names of over a dozen charities, families, and street corners.

"I'd say that's a lead there Barnes." and it was. Just, not how they imagined.

// How’s it doing so far?? I’m really liking how it’s all going so far! P.S. if you guys want to throw random vocab words at me I’ll try and find a way to incorporate them and tag you! Thanks for reading! May Odin bless you! //

[ncfan-1]

Gotham 05X01, ‘Year Zero’

[Tumblr is giving me issues regarding secure connections right now. I will let you know when I’m not having these issues anymore, but for right now, please direct any comments you have to the version of this post on my Dreamwidth account, or at least cross-post your comments to there. I have temporarily changed my settings to allow anyone to post comments, rather than just registered users.]

So, first episode of Season 5, which will most likely be the last season. The last time we were here, Gotham City underwent having its bridges blown up, which while a big problem, should not have been nearly as big a problem as the show made it out to be. Yeah, things are gonna be bad for the first couple of weeks, but if a proactive government takes charge, the city can get back on its feet eventually.

A bunch of criminals decided to carve up isolated, electricity-deprived, and largely depopulated Gotham City into their own personal fiefdoms for reasons that don’t make any sense upon slight scrutiny. Only with Oswald did this make sense, since Oswald has a strong emotional attachment to Gotham City, wouldn’t want to abandon it, and would want to establish his own rule to bring things under control (Things are probably fairly stable in his fiefdom. It’s the peace of the gun, obviously, but I assure you that the peace of the gun is worlds better than whatever the hell is going on in Jonathan’s neck of the woods.). With Barbara, it sort of makes sense, until you remember that this is a woman who likes her amenities like, oh, running water and air conditioning, and she wouldn’t want to be anywhere that doesn’t have these things. With the rest, they have no real attachment to this place and would definitely want to seek greener pastures. Especially Victor Fries, whose life literally depends on having working electricity, and who probably has his goons making constant runs looking for generators and ever-diminishing supplies of fuel for those generators.

Bruce Wayne decided that he could better serve Gotham City by trying to hunt down Jeremiah Valeska than, say, using his wealth and the clout of his family name to secure desperately needed resources for Gotham like getting the bridges repaired and repairing infrastructure enough to get the power turned back on.

I expect Season 5 to be a clusterfuck of epic proportions. I’m hoping that it will veer solidly into So Bad, It’s Good territory and stay there, though I’m not entirely optimistic. I just hope the apparent Jim x Babs tryst doesn’t happen in the first episode. I can’t handle that sort of brain-breaking badness in the first episode.

This? Is Gotham.

[CN/TW: Suicide, suicide ideation, suicide attempt]

- The recap automatically loses points with me by reminding me of Lee x Ed.

- No Man’s Land, Day 391. So, just to establish, this has been going on for over a year.

- We start with Ed, because of course he’s who everyone wants to see first. (Not.) Here’s someone else who really should have headed off seeking greener pastures first thing, because it’s not like he has an emotional attachment to the city.

- Seeing Oswald and Harvey was welcome, though. I love that Oswald has makeup staff, even in these dark times.

- Jim does not deserve the hero shot.

- Why is Ed teaming up with Jim, Harvey, and Oswald? Oswald, I can understand teaming up with the cops, because he’s all about order, but Ed knows no loyalty.

- And apparently Gotham is a full-blown warzone.

- We go back to Day 87, where Jim explains why people need to

- So Oswald repurposed a factory into a working manufacturer of ammunition. So someone’s gotten power up and running.

- And so has Barbara. And it turns out that her “No Men Allowed” policy isn’t nearly as strict as last season led us to believe. What a surprise. (The fact that she deals primarily in information does at least make sense for her character; she always makes the most sense to me as an information broker.)

- Where the fuck did Jonathan find an army of followers? Isn’t he a complete loner with no real charisma?

- This is the kind of situation where you bring in the national guard, not where you just declare the city off-limits and stick your head in the sand. Given how hawkish certain people in the highest level of government are, the men among these people would probably see advisement to stick their heads in the sand while criminal elements take over a city as an assault on their masculinity or something, given their personality types.

- Oh, god, poor Selina, they couldn’t even get her out of town. (At least Alfred seems to have stuck around to look after her while Bruce goes off on his revenge quests.) She looks so completely crushed by everything. She looks like she’s been crying off and on constantly for days; her eyes are so swollen. Poor kid.

- …Of course they couldn’t even go a full ten minutes before showing us the Greedy, Ungrateful Poor. Jesus.

- We find Ed sleeping on a rooftop couch, thoroughly disheveled. Apparently waking up somewhere with no idea how he got there has become a regular thing for him.

- More Bad Ed? Really? Can we just be done with this?

- Jim is right on the money when he says it’s easy for the government to ignore people suffering, though. They have a very easy time doing that.

- So Oswald wants a thousand pounds of steak from Babs in exchange for a thousand pounds of ammo. And Tabby is hung up on revenge for Butch (ugh) while Babs is actually thinking about needing to protect the women who come to her territory. What a surprise. (Well, Babs actually thinking about the need to protect people is a bit of a surprise. But Tabby not giving a damn about anyone but herself? That’s not a shock.)

- Jonathan’s… Yeah, this makes no sense. The fact that he was able to make himself into a power who could actually do anything in Gotham makes no sense. What would make more sense would be if he was (comparatively) small-fry who survived and made a name for himself by loaning out his services to the actual powers in the city.

- The power goes out at the hospital while Selina’s surgery is going on. Bad. The power comes back on, but there are people downstairs stealing the medicine. Worse.

- Jonathan confronts Jim. In a fight between these two, I’m always gonna be on Jonathan’s side, so… yeah, I kinda wanted to see him get dosed with fear toxin again. Not sorry.

- The Greedy, Ungrateful Poor are pissed that Scarecrow’s gang stole most of their food.

- As for the food situation: Bruce has a Plan. I really hope this plan actually works, and that it doesn’t backfire for grimdarkness.

- “After all the things I’ve done, what did me in was being your friend. I just wish Jeremiah killed me.” I’ll… leave this here. (I had suspected that Selina might be portrayed as suicidal. I’d hoped I’d be wrong.)

- And a nurse says Selina needs “the witch.” (Ivy, probably.)

- Oswald’s got a new leg brace, it looks like.

- Why is Oswald being portrayed like a Caligula knockoff (Or maybe a Nero knockoff, playing his fiddle—eating steak—while Rome burns)? This makes no sense. The man is practical enough to know that his workers need proper amounts of food in order to work.

- The dog’s named Edward. I don’t know whether or not to laugh.

- It’s so nice to have confirmation that Barbara will always be second-best in comparison with the man who threatened to rape her to Tabitha. And this after Barbara gave up godlike powers to save Tabitha’s life.

- The helicopter’s here. How much do you want to bet it’ll be shot down or hijacked?

- Shot down; wow, that took… all of five seconds. My bet right now is on Jeremiah as being responsible. He’s enough of a chaos agent to do something like that; Oswald or Barbara probably would have “confiscated” the contents instead.

- What’s Alfred’s game? (What’s Bruce’s game?)

- It was actually some two-bit thugs we’ve never heard of who shot down the helicopter. Of course.

- And Oswald has shown up to confiscate the contents of the helicopter. Only to be intercepted by Jim and his buddies.

- Or maybe it wasn’t the two-bit thugs, and maybe it was Jeremiah, after all.

- And someone with a bow and arrow is killing Oswald’s goons. It’s Tabitha. Of course.

- And Tabitha’s gun had bad bullets in it. And Oswald gets real revenge for his mother, and Barbara…

- Tragic Lesbians. Fuck you fuck you fuck you the first fucking episode fuck you fuck you fuck you

- Oswald has enough sense to run like hell once Barbara’s initial shock wears off.

- …Barbara was presumably there to try to talk Tabitha out of pursuing ruinous revenge. Jim? I really don’t want to see that hook up in the first episode, but could you at least pretend to be a decent human being and extend Barbara some sympathy?

(I suppose Bruce might extend her some sympathy, since he also has experience with the “watching people you love be murdered in front of you” thing. And because he puts more effort into being a decent person.)

- And poor Barbara gets shot while being a one-woman army.

- And Oswald, interestingly, doesn’t actually want to kill Barbara. Again, proving that he is not indiscriminately violent or vengeance-driven. And he doesn’t want to kill Jim either. Well, at least they remember part of Oswald’s personality.

- And Jim didn’t want to kill Oswald. Gobblepot revival?

- Please tell me they didn’t just leave Barbara unconscious and bleeding on the warehouse floor.

- Oh, look, it’s Ecco.

- There’s someone on the other side who got in contact with Jim to let him know there are people outside of Gotham who want to help. Meanwhile, Ecco has drawn a scary smile on the map. I am underwhelmed.

- Ed woke up in a dumpster this time. I laughed. Truly, a dumpster is his natural habitat.

- Barbara and Tabitha at the morgue. Excuse me, at Barbara’s club. Barbara’s ready to raise hell. She healed very quickly from that gunshot wound.

- Once Oswald’s calmed down a bit, he’ll probably decide he doesn’t want Jim dead after all.

- Selina’s looking at the scalpel. Selina, no. Her screams are heartbreaking. (Serious question, and I know this doesn’t always help—sometimes it just makes the suicide ideation worse—but is she on anti-depressants?)

- Please don’t start a round of applause for Jim Gordon.

- And a child has showed up wanting to talk to Jim. He walked all the way across town with this message: “They’re killing us.”

[monsterloveday]

Your grief is depressing me.

I have no idea how people will feel reading this, but ultimately I want to because  death is such a taboo subject - its avoided so much that I don't think we do ourselves any favours by avoiding it. After all, if you haven't already been through it, you will at some point. (You know what they say, you can never avoid death or taxes).

Although nothing will ever prepare you for it, I do believe we should give lee way for the people who do want to speak out on it, as it was from going through grief myself, I noticed how so many people tried to silence me due to their own fear / awkwardness / attitude towards it - this is not fair nor is it healthy. Its also a really shitty treatment towards grieving people. I feel that it is such a painful subject that we seem to fear the thought of it (and rightly so), but, I feel we do need to speak on it more - whether you have been through it or not.  This isn't to say that death should be spoken of all the time as that of course would be draining, but I do fear there are many ‘unwritten rules’ on this, one example being that you are ‘bringing people down’ or that people wont want to hear it or know what to say and you can understand that and appreciate that to a point.

But really, pretending death doesn't happen or locking those thoughts away probably don't help individuals when a loved one does actually pass away. I feel it is something us humans have to try and learn to be more open about, to not be afraid to bring it up, accept and perhaps educate ourselves on. When dad was having his last days (as horrendous as they were), I almost feel like I can say that the aftermath of death is actually worse (or maybe just as bad), that it is probably worse for the people who witness the death, over the person who is actually dying. People think that even with death ‘Time is a healer’, I even remember thinking to myself that at the year mark point, I would probably be so much better.

How naive I was. Grief has no expiry date. There is no ‘getting over it’. I feel just as bad now as I did then, and I wonder just how long this will be with me, I then fret that I will always carry this, as like I mention before, there is no ‘Light at the end of the tunnel’ with death. That person has gone, that theyre absence is so loud, it is a constant reminder, its massive, dark and noticable, and that the fact they have died will always, always, always be shit and nothing will change that. Im just telling it like it is.  Since then I look at the rest of my family, friends, and even my dog and worry about how bad it will be WHEN (not if) WHEN other loved ones die. That I have to do this again, and again, many more times. It makes me want to vomit. It makes me want to die first to avoid it. It makes me not like life at all. The world has become a very scary place now, how it snatches anyone it wants, and you are left to deal with that, and live a life knowing that that hangs over you all the time, yet you are expected to just ‘carry on’. At the time I remember seeing a gif of a monster hovering over a man walking up the stairs  - he knew it was there, lurking, waiting for the right moment, an extended version of waiting for the axe to fall. This is exactly how I felt. It. is. Awful. I remember being at dads side all day, at every minute looking at him and my heart pounding, checking if he was still breathing, wondering “is he dead?!”. Seeing my once strong dad now with all sorts of shit in his arms, his face, and everywhere else, not even able to open his eyes, the sounds of the machines trying to help him breathe - gah. Fuck that memory. And then going home to an empty house. My sister was with her other half, my brother his, my mum staying with dad (and rightly so). I had to walk past dads room, his belongings became SO noticeable, that even the sight of them scared me. How different this house was now. I was alone in a house that used to be my family home, now it was a house filled with horrors that reminded you of what was about to be taken away, how just a few weeks before he was in this house - not about to die. I remember wondering what I had done to deserve this, to watch my dad slowly die all day and night and have to come home alone. I wanted to be held. I wanted to be held so tight that it knocked me out. I kept all the lights on and I rang my friend who has also lost her dad and stayed on the phone to her until I fell asleep. I never forget friends like that. It was the worst. It was hell - but it wasn't a case of I was owed bad karma, its that life can be cruel, and it can be cruel to ANYONE. Not just me. And that ultimately - death is a part of life. When he died, after 10 long days of waiting for it to happen, I couldn't deal how people looked at me awkwardly, that I was the elephant in the room, that it is said that talking about things will help but yet when you try and open up peoples body language scream “I DONT KNOW WHAT TO SAY TO YOU”, the looks on their faces, the silence. Not only that most of the people around me hadn't lost anyone, so they didn't get it, but that my grief was actually making THEM feel awkward or that they didnt really want to speak to me. Some friends didn't even bother to contact me and said “ I didn't think you would want to come out”. It all added to my isolation. To this day I still don't talk to close friends or even my family about it, how death has taken such a massive characteristic from me - expression. Its taken so much of me. And people don't know what to say. That is not an attack or criticism, because its not a popular topic, and people avoid it like the plague. And rightly so, because its depressing. But this is why I wanted to write about it, I feel that if talking of death wasn't so taboo, It would help people for when they are actually going through it, or even in the smallest way, help them accept or prepare for an inevitable death, theres no ‘How To’ on death and for me personally, not having addressed death before - it really kicked my ass (and still is to this day) when it did arrive - after all, everyone goes through it at some point in their lives. Soon people see it as old news’ (especially after the funeral - how ghastly funerals are) and assume you must be ‘better’ now. It really doesn't work like that. Its ongoing. The heart specialist that saw dad through his last days told us himself that life is much harder after the funeral - this made me dread and dread and dread the funeral so much. But he was so right. Every day was so scary, dreadful and just black. It really does feel like you are in a out of body experience, that your mind just cant handle what is going on, so it shuts itself down and blocks things out whichever way it can, for some its denial, shock, its like your in a never ending nightmare and you just want to wake up. Soon after, my sister announced her pregnancy and I freaked.the.hell.out. I couldn't deal with all this massive change in my family in a tiny amount of time, what If I never see her now?, she will have her own family and we will be forgotten?!, that dad just missed it! what if what if what if?!!?. I ate and ate my way through these situations, I couldn't control or be disciplined at such a bad time in my life, the weight piled on and so did the depression - but this decision to eat has made things so much worse - but I still wouldn't have been able to do it any other way. I had a breakdown and that very morning took myself to the doctor. I couldn't deal and I wanted pills to take me out of this, at any cost. I wanted to be drugged at the highest level. Just take it away. Pills. They were not my friend. This in itself will be another blog as I want to stay focused on this topic. But in short, my health went to shit. My confidence was dropping and dropping and dropping. I stopped sculpting, I stopped art, I stopped ukulele, I stopped cooking. I stopped dating. I stopped singing, I stopped trying. My labido completely vanished. I didn't feel like a human anymore, I couldn't give love and I couldn't receive it. I was just a thing with skin. I didn't like boys, boys wouldn't like me - not at this weight and my belly. I hated how I looked, I hated my hair, I hated my whole appearance, I hated my now unfitting clothes, I hated how depressing clothes shopping had become, so I stopped. Everything I once took pleasure in, didn't please me anymore. Not even if I tried. I think I could have done the most amazing things and it still wouldn't budge this thing inside of me, taking over. I was turning into the worst version of me, a version of me I never knew existed. Mornings became a demon.  Im sure theres loads of you that relate to this and know what I mean by this. Id be in bed and suddenly my heart raced and it felt like that feeling you get when your about to do something that scares the shit our of you or makes you so nervous you need to puke, that the tiniest tasks became mountains - “Oh my actual god I have to get out of bed today and face people and do things”?!?!  I was so nervous and scared all the time and didn't know why.

I become so so tired having to work throughout the week, yet hated the weekends because of feeling unproductive or lonely. I felt so tired doing too much but felt like I had to be doing something as soon as I stopped, its like you are in a constant battle with yourself. My life went from grief, to anxiety and depression all in one hit. And I had to try and live with it every single day. Its so hard. And I still have to keep fighting through all this crap that life throws at me, Im still not at the ‘other side’ of all this and when I think I've had my dose of it, it gives me some more. But life does this to everyone and thats why I think its important to not be afraid of being open about feeling shit, because we can be there for each other. Yet we all seem to stay quiet and get annoyed when people express themselves if they are feeling sad, they are given the “you are so negative / moaning label - this isn't the case. I hate that people turn a blind eye because people express their negative emotions, really, what is wrong with that? I think ultimately I want to say to anyone that has lost someone, or is about to, or maybe people that just battle with their inner demons... Its annoying as hell but you have to fight back. And I know its so frustrating to have to fight for things that other people get so freely. Like - just being ok. Know that I am with you. I. Am. With. You. Know that this terror, too shall pass and you will get stronger. You will.

And you'll be surprised by how many people feel the way you do, but we just don't speak of it, so we think its unique to us - its not, we are a massive bunch of humans who suffer but not together!. I learned that life isn't always on my side and admitting that life is hard, we just have to get harder, and we do. I think sometimes we don't realise it though. You don't have to be fearless to be brave, being scared all the time is brave, because you have to force yourself through the fear all the time! I wont ever be the same person I was before my dad died, but maybe I need to stop trying to be, maybe its ok that I will always be a little bit broken. Death is so life changing for the people still remaining, so don't expect to stay the same person. And that is also OK. I would like to hope that at some time, life will be brighter for us once more, I think good and bad times pass by like waves, we cant have one without the other. What a beautiful cunt life is, ay? =p. One difference I have noticed in myself is how much more appreciative I am of small things. Just being with people, taking photos, hearing the birds sing, Knowing that life isn't forever, but its now, and now is all we have. So go get that tattoo, go on that trip you have always wanted too, tell that person how deeply in love with them you are, go and get your life and chase those goals, its scary, but its worth it. We wont be here forever! There is no “Im over it” now, as mentioned before, after losing someone, a gap is there that will never be filled.  But. Although it seems so very unlikely, you will feel love again You will laugh so hard again You will be able to think of that person and a smile come onto your face, instead of a tear and sometimes it will just be tears Sometimes you will miss them so much it hurts Sometimes you will feel lucky you had them in your life Sometimes you will feel cheated that they were taken away. There will be days where you can face things and days where you cant. You will never feel just one way, but you really do learn to live with it, and I promise you, although you will miss them so much - you're going to be OK. You become better at always being sad about it, and it will always be there, but it wont destroy you like it does in the early days / months / years. I was watching a film last night, about a man who died and was saying to his still alive wife beyond the grave, “I still exist”. This filled my heart will sheer comfort - the thought that death doesn't mean they are gone, that they really are still alive - just somewhere else. Dad please be up there, I really want to see your face again! and the hope that I could gives me me such a lift!. And maybe if we try to think, that maybe death isn't the worst thing, because hopefully our loved ones have gone somewhere BETTER! where they are the happiest they could ever be, no suffering, no pain and that they are having a ball up there! its like I've said, I think its worse for the people left behind and maybe if we start accepting that death happens, maybe we wont fight against it so much by knowing that death isn't the end! Im trying to hard to feel this way! Involve only good people in your life, be true to yourself, express yourself no matter how you feel and most importantly... They still exist. Jay

[aurianneor]

"And there's goat cheese..."

“What kind?” “Pélardon... Yes, please. Two thanks.”

They weren't pélardons, They didn't even look like them, The crust cracked too much, The color was cream Instead of the brightful white of milk And it was melting too much And besides, the taste was bland. Or maybe it was just a poorly prepared pélardon?

This cheese dates from Antiquity Its crafting has been preserved from generation to generation, In the Cevennes with chestnut trees It survives those who make it through human’s oral culture Farmers pass by, cheeses stay It is very specific The copies are bad.

She didn't have the chance Like Proust To be able to remember A childhood memory From a taste Preciously kept by a family member.

“Oh, lucky me, I didn't know it was your favourite cheese! » What a liar, according to her memories, she had already told him on at least three occasions. Her host was only asking again for this magnificent story where her neighbour in the Cevennes made the best pélardons she had ever tasted. “I was a child, sometimes I drew milk from goats, I went with her to keep the herd. We ate dandelions and picked chestnuts. » Her host didn't even listen to the end of the story. Discussions had resumed. And she concluded, speaking to herself, "she had a rustic cellar; with pélardons of different refinement; from soft to hard, from white to spotted blue. »

He had asked her again this story as if he didn't know it, Just to make her swallow a cheese with no taste and no character.

“It’s very good,” she concluded, quite forced because everyone had watched her eat it. She felt like Howard Hughes, played by Leonardo Di Caprio in the film The Aviator, who was served an animal with his head in a plate that inspired disgust.

Moreover, earlier, her host had insisted on cutting off the capon's head in front of her. All she could say was that it was obvious he had intentions. What did he want when he expressed himself through food?

Her host was none other than Gérard, her mother's new companion. And yes! At Christmas, we meet people... There are also cousins who appear and disappear forever, disputes that make it necessary to reserve a year for one and a year for the other, divorces, people who can no longer even find words to designate their family ties (for example, I am the son of his mother's companion, no blood ties) ... That we may or may not see the other years again. This is what family reunions are like, it's like being in a pub.

Speaking of the pub, Gérard had an open kitchen with bar stools. He was perched on one of them. He explained the menu very nicely to her. There were supposed to be 25 dishes. “Are you sure we need all this? I'd prefer: starter, main course, dessert.” “Come on! It's Christmas!” “Yes, well, I'm celebrating it like this.” “Come and have a glass of punch.”

“Thank you. See, I think we should make either smoked salmon or foie gras, it's too much if not...” She was trying to avoid wasting money. “You know, I went to the market to find the best products. I fought to book the capon. Christmas shopping is not easy.” “Did you take salad to digest all this?” “No, why?” “Two days ago, you asked me to write the menu with you and I suggested just a starter, main course and dessert and a salad to go with it?” “Oh, I'm confused, I forgot the salad.” “Basically, you're asking me for my opinion just so you can say I agree with what you're doing when you haven't even listened to me... good initial impression,” Joëlle thought.

Joëlle's mother broke into the room: “I heard "salad” and look what happens!” She was turning a salad over her head. She had thought about it. Well, that's not all, but there's work to be done....

Gérard took the capon and cut off his head. Victorious, he parried with the beheaded head of the animal. He then took the chestnut stuffing and introduced it into the animal. They peeled the potatoes together. Once this work done, which he considered delicate, required someone who knew how to do it, he went to join the drunks on the terrace after shouting instructions about the rest of the cooking operations and then writing them down because he thought his mother and Joëlle would not remember everything.

It was then Uncle Robert's turn, who decided on his own that he was the most qualified to open the oysters. He was quite jovial and told a succession of jokes, thinking that it was the only means of communication at hand to address them. He ended up talking about his son. “You know, he lives in New ahha ahha ahha hhahhahaha!!” “Ahhahahhh! Bloody Mary! He cut himself when opening the oysters! Quick, I'm calling an ambulance!”“No, no, I'll drive him,” objected Cousin Vladimir.

After they left, her mother went out on the terrace to bring clean glasses.

A supersonic “What” boomed. “He drank the whole bottle of vodka”?? Her mother was much more worried about the potential car accident than the blood-soaked cut. When they returned three hours later, she was surprised to find them alive.

Jöelle's mother was happy to be with her daughter and to be able to be “girls only” in the kitchen. Fortunately she liked it, because they stayed there all evening. Barely enough time to kiss the children to bed.

As she was about to eat, Joëlle began to sit down as usual, but Gérard ordered, “No, no, no, no, women, near the kitchen. It'll be more convenient!” Auntie Odile was 86 years old but she still had to comply with the rule; just like the children... At least this year, she wouldn't spend Christmas alone. Who had been all alone at Christmas this year? Uncle John had not come because it was too expensive for him to come. Granny at the retirement home was no longer able to get out. Of course, the drug addict had no interest in showing up; Joëlle thought he was probably going to get one more dose and stay on his mattress... no way he was missing a dose. She was thinking of her neighbour who was celebrating Christmas alone but whom the rest of the family had refused to invite. This year, the homosexual family was accepted for the first time, the two babies and the two mothers.

They had eluded talking politics to avoid the fist fights that usually followed. Fortunately, they had shared on WhatsApp the latest Christmas Survival Guide. It is just that the family pub, had a permit to deliver alcohol only to men (including minors) and that the other side of the table gave on the terrace where all the bottles were stored. The children had a buffet in the next room. A debate on compost had begun among her cousins and she took the opportunity to gather some tips on how to better use her own. Gérard spoke above her. According to his own judgment, there was obviously only him who had interesting things to say. In any case, he was the only one who was rude enough to share with the whole table the stupid jokes that only Joëlle's husband was laughing at. The rest of the table was starting to use their arms to support themselves and were looking forward to the end. At least the kids next door were having fun.

Very quickly, Joëlle did not recognize her husband anymore. Drunk, he went much further than Gérard in misogyny and racism. He had even made a "joke" about her, the meat, was supposedly overcooked, because his wife was still not able to use an oven that had been there for three years. It really didn't look like him. Joëlle was sweet and calm as usual. A little summary of what she had been doing all evening and a little pat on the head came out in defensive reflex. It had calmed her husband down a little bit, who continued his jokes but not on her. On the other hand, Gérard looked at her with shiny eyes. Whatever his intentions, he considered he had won the first set. Joelle didn't let him win the second one. Having already lost for the kitchen, she decided it was as if she was working for the “restos du cœur” one evening. Except that she would have preferred to do this for the poor rather than for Gérard and her mother who spent "such a good time with her in the kitchen". Cooking for drunks... you only see them every other year. At least the gargantuan remains, her husband would take them to the food bank the next day.

The next day, Christmas, presents! Joëlle and her husband watched the children open the presents. What a great idea to just be in a nuclear family for once. We could read them books, start playing some games.

“Ding Dong” “Your dream was too big; your mother wants to see her daughter and grandchildren. Maybe she'll learn my name one day. She'll need it to write it on my grave after she murdered me...” “Kids, come on, Mami Ceselha is coming!” Joëlle was still in her pjs. “Hello, darling, I'm not disturbing...” “Not at all Mom,” Joëlle lied, “Oh! Hello Gérard” “Hello.” “You don't know, darling, about the young Kevin… After you left, we were all in bed, he made a bet with Jean-Pierre. They made a contest for the one who would climb the tree the highest. Kevin's father helped him, so they went too high and they ended up in the emergency room too and it was full, they waited until late in the morning.” “They have a cast up to above the knee. One on the right, and the other on the left... Completely broken, Kevin...” “Also, it was silly giving alcohol to minors,” concluded Joëlle.

A few noisy and joyful gift openings and after some explanations about Santa Claus so agile that he could do a contortionist tour at the Cirque du Soleil, Joëlle found her husband in the room and let the older generation sympathize with the younger ones. “They're going to invite themselves to lunch...” “I think we should go to the restaurant. I promise you, I don't drink alcohol anymore in my life. And then I think Gérard will want to pay the bill. We'll at least see you...... Eventually, he'll give you a small salary for yesterday.” “And the other times...” “The other times, we'll see if he's there. Anyway, thank you, you're the only one who kept track. Your mother is blinded with love, I had drunk too much and I got carried away by this guy; the others crashed, they were almost all flattened on the table. You're the only one kept track.” “And Gérard, who derailed and brought some wagons with him. How are we gonna see Mommy alone? You remember, before he was in a relationship with Mom, he almost convinced us to buy a house on credit. He kept rushing us to make a hasty decision... on a house purchase, it's a big deal there! You are the one who introduced him to Mom; but imagine if at work, if he leads you into the kind of behaviour you had yesterday. You can lose it... We won't be able to make ends meet on my salary alone!” “Yes, it's enough to resell all the toys the children had for Christmas, I mean the 90% they're not interested in, and sell them on the Internet. The princess kit will go first. It will be a pleasure...” “So, that, you see, I don't understand. They know you can't get away with it, even if you work together. Zero help. They don't even look after them, they don't take them on vacation. Same thing from the four grandparents. And I'm not asking them anything, that's not the point. And then they offer expensive presents to kids who won't even play them.”

Joëlle was working internationally, and she had noticed that regardless of nationality, people were going to the end of the year holidays in small steps and returning at a brisk pace. When she asked afterwards, “how was the holidays” the grimace was much worse than the one that replied to “Are you going to spend the holidays with your family?”

It's really time for each family to take back the Christmas and New Year celebrations; Otherwise, we're all going to become chess nuts...

Aurianne Or

Pour lire cette histoire en français: https://aurianneor.tumblr.com/post/181424135970/et-là-il-y-a-du-chèvre

Would it really be Christmas without a family meltdown? I hope to find out - The Guardian: https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2015/dec/23/christmas-family-argument-row

Pélardon: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pélardon

The Aviator - Lunch scene: https://youtu.be/FRM0G1wfXoM