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Did you ever work in customer service? You give off been-in-the-trenches-and-are-better-for-it vibes.
Hi, this is slightly unhinged, but thank you!!
Now you're going to get the story of how I was offered a job on the spot for the first ever position I ever interviewed for (which was, indeed, customer service).
Okay, so, I'm 15, my birthday is in two days, and HEB (Texas grocery store) is hiring baggers for $7 an hour and cashiers for a whole whopping $10 an hour. Cashiers have to have prior experience OR have to work as a bagger for a year first. But I am full of teenage verve and I want that cashier position. I want it now.
I show up on my motorcycle, so I'm in my "professional" outfit but carrying my helmet when I enter the hiring manager's office, which really sets the tone for how things proceed.
The interviewer is like, "how old are you?" and babyface mcgee me, five foot tall and all of 90lbs says, "Fifteen. But I'm sixteen in two days."
And he's like, "...we can't hire you if you're fifteen."
And I'm like, "bet, but you can get the paperwork started now, yeah?"
And he says, "wait, how did you drive a motorcycle here if you're 15?"
So the first 5 minutes of the interview turn into me showing him my license, explaining DMV rules re 15-yr-olds and permitted engine size for motorcycles and pointing out my bike in the parking lot.
"Okay," he says, clearly trying to rally. "So you have a method of transportation, that's great, but we can't consider you for the cashier job if you don't have experience. We can only consider you as a bagger."
I'm prepared for this. I lay out my most recent report card, as well as copies of the sports and academic awards I've achieved in the last year. I give my "I'm a fast learner, I'm a hard worker, and you'll benefit more from me working as a cashier, interacting with customers, than a bagger" speech. I've been buying groceries at this store my whole life, so I know that cashiers are ranked by how many 'Item of the Week' they manage to hawk at checkout (typically batteries or soda or chips). "I'll be top of the ranking for Item of the week, just you wait."
I think he is reluctantly charmed by my bull-headedness. "Okay,” he says, reaching for the can of coke on his desk. "Fine. Sell this to me, then. Right now."
This man is mid-forties. He has bad handmade artwork hung up on his office wall.
"Do you have kids?" I ask, already knowing the answer.
"Two," he says. "Boy and a girl. The girl is just a year younger than you, actually."
"Ah," I say, "is it getting harder and harder to connect with her? Monosyllabic answers? Spends all her time in her room."
"...yes," he says.
“I was the same,” I say somberly. “Until, one afternoon, my dad came into my room and handed me a Coke.”
I tap my fingers on the Coke in front of me.
“He told me to come share a drink with him while he grilled on the back porch and that once I’d finished my Coke I could crawl, hissing, back to my room, but he wanted company until then. And see, I did, actually, want to spend time with my dad. I just didn’t know how to initiate it, and my teenage hormones made it difficult for me to express that. So I took the Coke and stomped my way outside but once I was there, I drank it slowly. And I answered his questions about school and cheerleading and asked him about work and we planned a weekend father-daughter motorcycle trip into the hill country. And ever since then, every few days, he’ll come to my room and offer me a Coke, and I’ll spend half an hour drinking it in his company.”
I slide the coke across the desk to him. “Might be an approach to try with your daughter, what do you think?”
He catches the Coke automatically. He sighs.
"Yeah, alright," he says. "Cashier job is yours. Come back in two days when you're actually sixteen and we'll get your paperwork sorted out." I worked there for the rest of high school and I was, typically, top of the rankings for selling Items of the Week the entire duration.
Entirely unrelated, I hate coke. I don’t drink soda, and the only beverage my dad has ever shared with me on the back porch is a margarita. But he didn’t need to know that.
#Lol#Shout out to all the folks in the customer service trenches#Storytime#mylife#If I had nothing else I had the audacity
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NikPrice who are trying desperately to have date night but keep getting interrupted by their children asking questions through the ring camera
The worst part is that the questions start before the couple even leaves the house.
Nik is styling his hair and John is grabbing everything they need to head out when they both get the first ring notification of many to come.
Alex: I’m heading to Tesco, do you guys need anything?
John, over the speaker: No, we’re good, lad. Maybe ask your siblings.
Alex: Will do. Have fun on your date!
The next comes seconds before Nik pulls out of the driveway.
Gary: Did you buy any apple juice yesterday? Also, if there’s free bread at the restaurant, you should steal some.
John: Gary, we’re right behind you, you didn’t need to use the camera.
Gary: *looks at his dads in the car and then back at the camera, staring deeply into it*
John, sighing: Yes, there’s apple juice in the pantry. And we’ll try and bring home some breadsticks.
Gary: Okay! Bye, love you!! *runs back inside*
They manage to get seated at the restaurant before the next notification goes through.
Simon: Hey dads, can Johnny and I take Captain for a drive?
John is about to turn on the microphone and give a firm ‘absolutely not’ when Simon starts talking again.
Simon: I’m gonna take your silence as a ‘yes.’ Bye dads, see you later!
Before either man can react, he and Captain are sprinting off the porch and hopping into Johnny’s waiting car.
Nik, chuckling: When did that boy get so bold?
John, exasperated: I’m entirely blaming this behavior on you. You’ve always had a penchant for giving me headaches.
Nik just laughs louder.
After that, a new alert pops up consistently every 10 to 15 minutes. And everytime it’s something that very easily could have been said over text.
Gaz asking if a few of his football mates could come over to play video games.
Farah and Valeria arguing over which movie to should watch and trying to get another opinion.
Gary trying to convince them that he should be able to have more pet cockroaches.
Alex asking if his running leg would look more impressive to his crush (even though it’s really not meant for regular walking).
The fathers look at each video message with fond but very tired sighs. Their next date is definitely going to be a ‘no phones’ affair.
Their phones ding once again as they’re handed the check. It’s Simon, and he’s holding Captain up to the camera like the massive dog weighs nothing.
Simon: Captain wants ice cream. But, he’s a dog, and therefore has no money, so…
John doesn’t even answer, he just sends Si £20.
Si stands at the doorbell until he gets the notification that the money went through.
Simon: Thanks dad! Love you!! *he runs back to the car*
After that, all is quiet. And that makes both men very suspicious. When they get home, the house is still and quiet. Which is incredibly suspicious.
Worried that their children have someone managed to murder each other in the hour and a half that they were gone, they approach the house with caution. John is tense when they reach the door, and it almost feels like he’s back in his military days again, about to breach an enemy’s safe house.
He unlocks the door and lets it slowly swing open. Once he catches sight of the living room, he’s almost brought to tears.
The two large living room couches have been pushed together and piled high with blankets and pillows. The coffee table holds their favorite ice creams and wine, and the tv is cued up with a movie they’ve been meaning to watch for ages.
Nik turns to John with tears in his own eyes, but is cut off by the ring camera.
The image that greets them is all of their kids standing out on the porch.
Alex: We know we kept bothering you guys during dinner, so we thought we’d make dessert a little more peaceful.
Farah: Si, Gary, and Gaz are staying at Johnny’s. Alex is coming with me to Valeria’s. Enjoy your night. We love you.
A chorus of ‘love yous’ can be heard and then they head off their separate ways.
Nik, wrapping his arm around John: Those sneaky little shits. They must have used the back door.
John, giving Nik a kiss on the cheek: Maybe we should get a camera for out there too. The first one turned out to be a pretty good purchase.
(I’M SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG THE LAST COUPLE WEEKS HAVE BEEN STRESSFUL 😭😭😭)(BUT I HOPE YOU LIKE IT!!!)
#simon ghost riley#john soap mactavish#ghoap#call of duty modern warfare#teen!simon ghost riley#cod teen au#gary roach sanderson#kyle gaz garrick#alex keller#farah karim#valeria garza#dad john price#dad nikolai#captain john price#nikolai cod#nikprice
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Some of my Ford Pines Thoughts/Headcanons:
- I personally perceive him as neurodivergent to some extent, if I were give him a specific label, I would be inclined to say that he’s possibly autistic.
- Absolutely has a kill count & is not proud of it. Only occasionally brings this up around Stanley & Fiddleford.
- Was initially in denial of but ultimately comes to realize the extent of how messed up his childhood was, especially regarding Filbrick’s mistreatment of him & Stanley. Eventually he confides in Stan, who later comes to the same realization.
- Like Stan, he is deeply traumatized & likely has PTSD. He doesn’t really come to terms with this, however, until after the events of the show, when, for the first time in about thirty years, he isn’t living on “fight or flight” mode. His symptoms primarily manifest in bouts of insomnia & paranoia. He & Stan seek out counseling at some point.
- Shortly after Stan was kicked out Ford sobbed viscerally out of both anger at Stan & grief in losing him, with this being one of the few instances of him crying in his life.
- Was extremely lonely & depressed in the time between Stanley’s departure & his first day at university due to Stan being his only genuine friend prior to meeting Fiddleford.
- Has like zero innate fashion sense, got his entire wardrobe inspiration from Carl Sagan.
- Is a virgin up into his sixties. However, he did get close to losing his virginity once in college with Fiddleford, but they were both too awkward & inexperienced to actually go through with it. (I’m open to this being negated though, I could see Ford getting up to some stuff while traveling between dimensions.)
- In college he would pull all-nighters, staying up as late as humanly possible studying while Fiddleford, being accustomed to rising early, would either inadvertently awaken him or find him studying half-asleep hours before classes started, much to his chagrin. This dynamic is swapped when Fiddleford comes to Gravity Falls to research with Ford.
- Has developed a subconscious habit of concealing his hands when around others, particularly when around strangers. Tends to either hide them behind his back or in his pockets.
- Is a very skilled pianist but seldom plays the piano. Starts playing it more when at Fiddleford’s mansion, sometimes even resulting in them having duets.
- Has nerve damage as well as extensive scarring & burn marks that litter his body. (He should probably go to a doctor too…)
- Is always chiding Stan & Fiddleford about maintaining their physical health, especially in response to their tobacco usage, yet is habitually neglectful of his own health & hygiene.
- Incapable of driving anywhere both during his research period (car was destroyed) & when he returns to Gravity Falls (expired license & technically doesn’t legally exist). Either walks everywhere (which he enjoys, especially when taking scenic walks in the woods w/ Stan & Fiddleford) or, if necessary, is driven around by Stanley (dreads riding w/ Stan & constantly chastises him for his reckless driving, is the living embodiment of a backseat driver).
- Always sleeps on the top bunk of his & Stan’s bunkbed, both as a child & while at sea on the Stan o’ War II. Seldom does he actually climb down from the bed however, instead opting to jump down from the top bunk in the most overly-dramatic fashion possible, much to Stan’s chagrin.
- Despite being raised Jewish (most likely either Conservative or Reform Jewish) he is not religiously affiliated in adulthood & began distancing himself from Judaism shortly after attending university. Has friendly religious debates/existential discussions w/ Fiddleford, who is deeply connected to his faith in Christianity. Despite that, they respect one another’s beliefs & like being able to hear an alternative perspective.
- Although Ford & Stan were never required to adhere to a kosher diet, they were still somewhat discouraged from eating pork specifically & were never served it at home. The first time Ford tries it is when Fiddleford shares some with him some in college, which he ends up loving.
- Has recurring nightmares about Bill, the most distressing of which are not the ones involving him being tortured or physically abused but the ones that are most reminiscent of when he still had a friendly relationship with Bill, with those dreams feeling pleasant, recapturing how Bill made him feel when initially inside his mind.
- Tries his hardest to assist Stanley & Fiddleford with their memory loss & any other longterm damage from use of the memory gun. Actively encourages them to utilize memory exercises & prioritize their physical & cognitive health.
- Mutters to himself under his breath a lot, thinks no one can hear him. Prone to this whenever flustered.
- Refuses to openly admit it but had a serious celebrity crush on Nikola Tesla & later Carl Sagan. Tried to emulate them as much as humanly possible while a teenager/young adult. Still admires them deeply.
- Had a friendly competition w/ Fiddleford in college over who could perform better academically in their shared classes. Ford typically studied harder yet consistently performed marginally worse than Fiddleford in all of their STEM classes as Ford would, on average, score ~95-99%, Fiddleford would somehow get bonus points on virtually every test & average ~105-110%. Ford never fully got over this.
#i have a lot of thoughts about this guy#gravity falls#ford pines#stan pines#fiddleford mcgucket#fiddauthor#book of bill#gravity falls headcanons
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"The nighttime brings promises I can't keep
Givin' in is the one thing that I don't need
Got ahead of myself, gotta retrace my steps'
Cause I lost me the moment I took a piece of you
And you may never believe, but I'm sorry
I never meant for it to go this way (this way)
Only wanted the best and I'm stickin' to my story
This was a moment for me, and this was all it could be"
Destin Conrad & Alex Isley –"Same Mistake"
The state of mental disarray Celeste lived in would've broken the average woman. Having a feral pack of vampires follow her home brought on a fear so acute that she fled her cottage that same night and stayed with Mercy until the next morning.
She didn't tell her friend about the encounter, knowing she'd be packed off to a mental ward, or at least temporarily placed under observation at the hospital where Mercy worked as a nurse.
Mercy wasn't stupid.
She sensed immediately that Celeste's distress was beyond the made-up story about a burglar trying to break into her house. Crime happened a lot in the Easy, and any normal person would call the cops and bitch about soaring crime rates. Nothing would come of it, anyway. Outside of homicide, the NOLA police department wasn't known to haul ass for a B&E —breaking and entering. Mercy's suspicions were affirmed by the way Celeste acted, peeking out of the window every half hour like the time an old boyfriend before Freddie harassed her with stalking and drive-bys to her old apartment. All of her clique knew Terry left the city. She told them he had his job to get back to and things weren't going to pan out long distance. Mercy's lips poked out like she was itching to know if Terry was the problem and the reason for running off to her place in the middle of the night.
Celeste slept on the couch in Mercy's apartment and stayed indoors there while her friend left early for work. Daytime was a safe time. Isn't that what the vampire myths claimed it to be? She stared at the old bite wounds on her neck, thigh, and breasts. How could she be so blind to what they were? Terry had her so twisted up in the fog of lust that she glossed over proof that bloodsuckers were fucking real.
She groaned and closed her eyes. Terry manipulated her trust to feed from her.
New Orleans was the popular gothic home of vampire lore in the south. Countless books, movies, TV shows and the like centered it as the breeding ground for supernatural creatures. People made stories about monsters to scare children into being obedient. Bloody Mary. The Boo Hag. Zombies. Shit, even Voodoo still gave folks around those parts the heebie-jeebies even though white people turned it into a commercial joke. They sold Voodoo donuts, Voodoo dolls, and even ran up and down the French Quarter pretending to be Voodoo Witch Doctors giving graveyard tours to visit Madame Marie Laveau.
Like her ancestors before her, Celeste knew Vodun was real. Hoodoo was real. African retentions stayed rooted in the diaspora, and New Orleans was the most African city in America, witnessing unspeakable horrors done to Black people. White people were monsters bringing them to southern American shores. Surely their monstrosity enabled wickedness to flourish on southern soil and everywhere else. Her people danced at carnival, dressed as skeletons, and masked to hide their true selves. What better city to feed in than one that openly courted secrecy, excess, and spooky vibes? If people disappeared or turned up dead, the law and society could blame it on American's natural inclination to be violent with one another…not anything supernatural.
Vampires walked among them.
She swiped the cracked screen of her smartphone, looking up old wives' tales about Terry's kind. None of them supported anything he would be averse to. He had a reflection in the mirror. Crosses didn't bother him. He shook a priest's hand and didn't freak out. Never even flinched when she wore her gold cross necklace. She fed him garlic in the shrimp she cooked. The only things that tripped her up was that he walked around in the daytime, and she never saw him with fangs. Obviously, his teeth were sharp enough to break her skin, but regular human teeth could do that.
Maybe he was a familiar.
Dracula had Renfield. Maybe Terry was The Deacon's Renfield, luring people to their doom.
Celeste rubbed her scalp and swallowed down the anger festering in her chest. She'd made a mistake trusting Terry. She let a pretty boy's face and five-star Michelin dick trick her into submission of diabolical evil. The only saving grace was Terry's absence from her life, and whatever else ran around the Easy that scared the vampires away. She heard them say Old Ones. Perhaps that's what landed on her roof, causing the bloodsuckers to flee. Whatever it was, it didn't harm her, so she had one less monster to worry about.
As long as she stayed active during the day and locked herself in for the night, the vampires couldn't touch her. Had they wanted her dead or sucked dry, they would've done it days ago when she came home from work at night. They seduced people easily. Moved fast. It wouldn't take much to kill her on a dark street. They wanted her alive for a reason: to get Terry.
She texted Mercy and told her she felt better about going home. Made up a story about getting a burglar alarm. While driving to her small neighborhood in Marigny, she kept her neck on swivel to check for suspicious activity. She spent the rest of her time sleeping. She was so tired lately. Fatigue came easy.
Come nightfall, she turned all the lights on in the house and carried a sharp meat-carving knife on her. In her bedroom, she watched the news on her laptop, feeling drowsy. She typed in the words Shelby Springs into the Google search bar and tried to figure out where Terry came from. He claimed that he lived not too far from the place where his cousin was murdered. Three other parishes surrounded Shelby Springs. Typing Terry's name in the search engine brought up pictures of other Terry Richmonds, all white and mostly old.
Going another route, Celeste typed in the name Michael Simmons with Shelby Springs, and a slew of articles filled her screen. She read about a corrupt police force and an attempted coverup. Not one article mentioned Terry's name. Stranger still, four of the officers involved in the corruption scandal had disappeared months after being charged to stand trial. The only members of the force still around happened to be a Black woman who was set to testify against her fellow officers. She quit the force and refused to comment on any of the charges with the media. Celeste wrote her name down: Officer Jessica Sims. A second officer, who had been shot by his own Police Chief, made a move across the country to work at another police force.
If Terry went to help his cousin, surely Officer Sims would have information about his address, or at least the name of the parish he came from. Celeste stared at the screen. Officer Sims' round face looked haunted by something.
Another thought occurred to her, and she grabbed her cell phone. She called her cousin Butchie, who was friends with Travis.
"Butchie, can you text me Travis's number? I need to ask him something."
"About?" Butchie drawled on the other end.
"None of your business."
Butchie sucked his teeth and twenty seconds later, Travis X's number appeared on her screen. She typed it in fast, hitting the send button.
"Who dis?"
"Is that how you answer your phone? It's me, Duchess."
"Sister Celeste? What's going on?"
"Can you tell me, or ask your brother, where Terry lives?"
"Who?"
"Terry. Terry Richmond."
"Who dat?"
"Whatchu mean who dat? Your friend you brought to the Indian practice last month…your brother Scubbie's marine buddy. The one with the green eyes."
"Scubbie was never in the marines and I didn't bring anybody to the bar with green eyes. Have you been smoking that funny herb?"
"He came with you outside when you lit up my cigarette. The pretty boy."
Travis stayed silent.
"Never mind. Sorry to bother you. I thought maybe you knew him. Goodnight."
Celeste tapped her cell phone against her thigh. Terry used Travis to get next to her. He probably induced some type of hypnotic state like those vampires tried to do at her house… Jedi mind-tricked Travis into letting him hang with them. Once he was no longer needed, the memory of Terry faded from his mind.
She shut off the laptop and curled into a ball with the knife in front of her face. Resting her fingers on the handle, she made plans to visit Shelby Springs the next time she had another two consecutive days off.
Celeste drank a red bull to perk herself up for work at the elder care facility. The new client who moved into Miss Irma's old room was a cranky white man who never seemed satisfied with his care there. He often complained that his room was cold and drafty.
"There's no draft and your room faces the garden, the sunniest and warmest part of the building," Celeste said, helping Mr. Crawley with the door so he could move with his walker better to get inside his room.
"I'm telling you people I have a draft in my room and it's too cold, even when I turn up the heat. I pay too much money for this place not to have controlled temperatures," Crawley said.
"May I suggest wearing one of your nice sweaters?" she said.
Celeste grit her teeth, listening to Crawley go off, but she assisted him and nodded her head as his list of complaints grew. She helped him sit at the desk near the window where he wanted to write letters and his autobiography. He probably complained about his life there, too.
"You feel that?" he said.
Crawley held his hand out toward the closed window where sunlight created a square of light on the teal carpet. He grabbed her hand and forced it into the light.
"See?" he said, his pale blue eyes pleading with her to pay attention.
She stood with her fingers splayed out, dust motes floating in the bright light. Where warmth should've been, there was only a cold spot. She moved her hand in different areas around the window and there was definitely an icy chill that shouldn't have been there. Glancing up at the air conditioner vent, she didn't hear it working at that moment. Only the fan whirred, giving a pleasant circulation of air.
"I feel the cold air, Mr. Crawley. I don't know what I can do about it. Is it bothering you?"
"If it stayed in that one spot it wouldn't be a problem." He leaned in conspiratorially, and she moved closer to him. "But it moves around."
"Moves around?"
Crawley's tone of voice lowered, and he genuinely looked agitated by Celeste's facial expression.
"The cold moves around in here," he said.
She glanced at the window and reached her hand into the suspect area. The sun warmed her hand up. The cold spot was gone.
"See? I told you. Now it's all warm and normal again, isn't it?"
"Yeah."
Celeste retrieved a sweater from the hook on the door and placed it on the back of Crawley's seat.
"I'll be back to take you to lunch," Celeste said.
She left the room and worked without incident until she walked down the hallway carrying a bag of collected trash and passed near Crawley's room. A large, cold spot sat in front of his door. The chill startled Celeste. The air in the building had slightly warmed up, but not enough to need the air-conditioning blasting more than it was. She walked through an icy gust and gasped at the sudden drop in temperature. Crawley's door was open. He furiously scribbled at his desk. Celeste moved back and forth between coolness and frigid air. Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed someone walking toward the employee break room.
Miss Irma.
Celeste stood cemented to the floor, and Miss Irma turned a corner and glanced back at her. A male co-worker pushed a cart of meds down the hall and stared at Celeste's confused face.
"You alright, Celeste?"
"Did you see someone walk past you?"
"Just now?"
"Yes."
"Nope."
She didn't want to walk down the hall. Ignoring a dead woman should've been easy, but Celeste moved along the corridor close to the wall. When she reached the corner, she prayed no one would be there.
"Oh thank God," she sighed, seeing another empty hallway.
She left the building out of the side door to throw away the trash in the dumpster outside. A supervisor named Diane met her back inside the break room. Diane snacked on a bag of chips and a bottle of coke.
"Celeste, can you get in touch with Terry Richmond? He hasn't returned my calls to collect his grandmother's personal effects," Diane said.
"I haven't spoken to him in a long time."
"Well…his grandmother has boxes in our storage room and I'd hate to throw it out. The clothes we can donate to Goodwill, but there are photo albums and books—"
"I'll take them to him. I get off at five."
"You will? That would be great. Do you have time now to get it and put it in your car? I can help you. Mr. Richmond was told that we can hold items for thirty-days and he said he would get them before he left the city. It's been past the deadline."
Celeste followed Diane to the large storage room, and in the back were four medium-sized boxes and two bags of clothes. They took two trips to her car, and she squeezed all the boxes in the back seat and the passenger side. She dumped the contents of an over-sized box into the trunk and folded it up to reuse later at her home.
"Thank you so much. This makes me feel so much better. There are photos and all kinds of irreplaceable things in them. I'd hate to see them dumped in the garbage," Diane said.
"No problem. I'll keep them at my house and he can pick them up the next time I see him."
Diane left her alone. Celeste grabbed her smokes from the glove compartment and took an extra break. She hid herself in the garden and sat on one of the wooden benches. Seeing Miss Irma unearthed troublesome emotions. She worried that her mind was teetering on the verge of mental collapse from the stress and fear. Seeing ghosts on top of vampires was too much. Puffing and fretting, Celeste closed her eyes. Feeling dizzy, she leaned forward, hanging her head between her legs. Goosebumps pricked her skin as the temperature dropped abruptly around her. She shivered in the direct blazing sunlight.
"It's the baby making you feel sick," an elderly female voice said.
Celeste kept her eyes closed and head low, too afraid to open them or move. Reeling, she prayed silently and hoped that she wouldn't pass out.
"Don't be afraid. You know I won't hurt you…I just have to talk to you."
Celeste opened her eyes and focused her attention on the grass beneath her feet. She looked slightly to her right and noticed a pair of feet encased in pretty yellow house slippers. Moving her gaze higher, she recognized the simple pink floral dress, and the pale wrinkled hands.
"I'm scared," Celeste said.
The hand of a dead woman pulled her up, and they looked at one another eye to eye on the bench.
"Is this real? Or am I losing my mind?" Celeste asked.
Miss Irma's eyes twinkled. She looked more alive and vibrant than her last days at the assisted living facility.
"Your mind is fine, baby. Just fine."
"You're really a ghost, then?"
"That indeed. May I?"
Miss Irma pointed to Celeste's stomach. Celeste sat back.
"You want to touch me?"
"Yes."
"Okay."
Miss Irma rested her soft hand on Celeste's belly. The warmth she exuded seemed so real. Ghosts were supposed to be smoky and floaty. Miss Irma sat next to her like the most solid and alive person on the planet.
"Well, now…Papa didn't waste no time," Miss Irma said.
"What are you talking about?"
"You are pregnant, child. It's still early, but you are about to become a mama for my great-granddaddy."
"That can't be true."
"Getting pregnant?"
"Terry being your great-granddaddy…he's not even…he's not…"
"You know it's true. I can see in your eyes you know his secret…what he is. On this side, they tell me that you've done the impossible, so now I must tell you something important…something I was too weak to say before I died."
Miss Irma cradled Celeste's hands, which shook so badly that the ghost had to clamp them down tight between her palms.
"You have my things. Look through them so you may know Papa's story. He was human once upon a time ago. I spent my long life documenting all I could for my grandson Michael, but he's gone and can't hold the secret for our family. Papa wanted me to tell his story. But my mind started fading and I couldn't finish my work. Now you have become my family, Celeste. There are beings in the world who mean Papa harm… and your baby, too. They hide in plain sight in other places, but because Papa came back here, they might come for him."
"Other vampires?"
"Les Gargouilles…gargoyles. They will seek him out and kill him. Their kind are enemies to Papa. Enemies to that child if they find out about you carrying a vampire's baby."
"I've seen a few gargoyle statues in the Quarter that were never here before."
"Oh no, then it may be too late."
Miss Irma rose from her seat and looked off into the distance. She paced in front of Celeste.
"They're not active in the daytime, so you're safe, even when they hunt at night. I've tracked many during my lifetime taking pictures of them all over the world. They protect humans and won't harm you because you're a child of God. The baby will be safe until it's born and out of your body…oh no…oh no…"
Miss Irma looked at her hands. They began to disintegrate, starting at her fingertips.
"Celeste! He loves you…he—"
Miss Irma's body broke apart and floated away like the graying ash of a dying fire.
Too stunned to move, Celeste sat on the bench for the rest of her shift. She wandered away only when the sun went down. Climbing into her car, she thought of what to do with the information given to her. After an hour of sitting in her driver's seat, she drove herself to the drugstore and bought an early detection pregnancy kit.
At home, she tested herself twice.
She was positive both times.
Chapter 11 HERE.
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New Home
Batsis!Reader
wc: 2.7 K summary: You, Bruce Wayne's sister, find Jason in a dark alleyway, on a cold winter night. warnings: angst, angst/no comfort, death, grief, open ending? a/n: some distraction for myself and for my followers who are all on their toes, waiting for the next part of "It's All an Act"!! (this is also dedicated to my dear friend, who won't stop sending me angsty edits of Jason Todd) Enjoy !!
Your day was draining you more than usual. Work has been taking a toll on you and it didn‘t help that the weather was not on your side today. Walking to your bus station, you had to be extra careful while walking, not wanting to slip on the icy side walks and hit the back of your head.
As you concentrate on taking slow and steady steps, you almost miss the way someone winces not too far away. With your undying curiousity, you search for the noise. It doesn‘t come again, but you are more than sure that it was real and came from the alleyway you just passed by. It could be a kitten but it could also be a simple trap from some wicked person. Either way, you step into the alleyway and shine into the darkness with the flashlight Bruce gave you just in case.
Your steps are silent and careful. Coming closer, you finally get to see more of what‘s in there. Several dumpsters are leaned against the brick walls of the houses, some snow still laying around.
After taking a small breath, you dare to get closer and light into the smaller sillhoute between those trash containers.
»Don‘t!«
A high-pitched voice exclaims and the little form holds his hand out to you in fear. You freeze too, not having expected to meet a, what seems to be nine-year-old boy. You sigh out softly and crouch down to his level, pointing the flashlight on the ground.
»Relax, you‘re not in trouble… what are you doing here, though?«
The little boy realxes at your reassuring tone and puts his hand back by his side. He stays cramped in between the cold cumpsters and you wonder for how long he has been hiding there.
Much to your desmay, his response doesn‘t help you a lot.
»You don‘t have to know that! I don‘t trust you.«
Wow. He has some snark. Much like Bruce.
Clearing your throat, you nod and stay crouched down in front of him.
»Okay, I get that. But I just need to know where your parents are, so I can bring you back to them.«
Your voice stays calm and steady, but it doesn‘t seem to help all that much. This time, the boy stays quiet and looks down. For the first time in a while, you start doubting your social skills. Did you say something wrong? The way he looks down and went silent makes him look even more exhausted than before. After thinking for a few seconds, you decide on a final solution for the both of you.
»C‘mon, I‘ll make you some hot chocolate and give you a warm blanket. I‘ll introduce you to my brother as well.«
You stand up again and extend your hand for him to take, which he does after a moment of hesitance.
Finally, after driving back for half an hour in a bus, you got him inside the Manor and wrapped him into a blanket, while you are busy making him a warm drink. It‘s close to seven in the evening and you are sure that Bruce will come back home in a while as well. Since your parents died, you settled on living together with Alfred for the meantime, which has been working well so far.
Now that Dick, the first boy Bruce adopted, is in college, it felt more empty inside the big house. But it seems like it won‘t be empty and too quiet for long, having another boy in the main area right now.
You sit down beside the little boy, who you soon learned is Jason. He may seem rude at first, but you figure out it‘s because of his closed off nature. But who knows, maybe that will change overtime.
»I‘m home!«
A deep, familiar voice sounds through the manor, making Jason tense up in the blanket. You notice that but decide to not comment on it, instead assuring him that it‘s just your brother. As expected, Bruce enters the main area and stops in his tracks once he registers Jason.
His eyes meet yours, silently asking for an explanation.
»Bruce! This is Jason. I found him on the streets, he will live with us now.«
Your brother only blinks in response and then looks between you and the little boy. Jason, still seated beside you, seems to lighten up at the mention of living here. He was already impressed by the size of the building from outside, so living here would make all his dreams come true.
Finally, Bruce learns to speak again and gives you a look only you can understand. He needs to talk to you later.
»Great, yeah. How old are you, Jason?«
As he waits for his answer, Bruce shrugs his coat off and just stands in front of the couch for the meantime.
»I‘m eleven.«
For the first time since you know Jason, you can see the clear admiration in his eyes. The way he looks up at Bruce is enough for you to be sure that these two will get along just fine.
As the evening progresses, you make Richard‘s old room suitable for Jason, before you will make Jason‘s own room the next day.
As you get back to the living room, you catch Jason and Bruce talking together and it actually warms your heart. The way they seem to understand each other on a deeper level makes you smile to yourself.
Suddenly, Bruce forgot that he wanted to speak to you about this. He is already bought for Jason and he is okay with adopting him too.
◐
It‘s been a few weeks since you found Jason in that alleyway. He has his own room now, you walk him to school and bought him new clothes. He looks way happier now, he‘s been eating full meals, and always talks your ears off when you pick him up from school.
You settled on taking turns with Bruce, you get to take care of him one week and the other week is Bruce taking care of of the bundle of sunshine.
As time progresses, you all grow closer and Jason feels genuinely comfortable with you two. Your teamwork with Bruce is paying off, but of course there‘s a point, where you don‘t agree with your younger brother.
After only two months of living together with the little boy, he proposed the idea of making him Robin. Naturally, you were against it. You made it clear to let him stay out of any serious trouble, but Bruce is stubborn too. You can‘t really win against any argument with Bruce when it comes to his work. And Jason seems eager to join on the vigilantism as well, so it‘s two against one. Not exactly fair.
Now that Jason works together with Batman as his side-kick, you spend every night worrying about both of them. It was the same thing with Richard back then. You weren‘t fond with the idea of the younger boy being Robin, but they both insisted. It‘s like arguing with two children at this point. Everything goes past their heads and only their opinion seems to matter.
But as time passes and you check on them regurarly, it seems to go well. Bruce makes sure Jason still eats well while training and won‘t get hurt during patrol. Maybe you have underestimated his ability to take care of a child, but Bruce seems to do well enough.
Not worrying so much anymore, you continued to go about your days and co-parent Jason. You noticed the growing relationship between Alfred and Jason too. It‘s endearing, seeing them bake cookies together from time to time or cleaning up the kitchen together just makes your heart wrench with sweetness.
During the days, you spent most of your time together with Jason, helping him with homework before he goes to patrol with Bruce. It doesn‘t feel like Jason has any trouble balancing school with his vigilante work, even when he has to take regular naps from time to time.
Jason is a goodhearted kid. He fights for justice alongside Batman. Sure, his morals are not always okay, but Bruce is there to talk about it and reign him back in. His intentions are clear. Fight the people who wrong the innocent.
You find out about his past. The life he had before living with you. It was heartbreaking to know how abusive his household was. But the fact that he keeps looking forward despite of his past, gives you hope that Jason stays strong.
◐
You come home from a long day of work, the manor filled with nothing but silence. That‘s strange… normally, Jason would be greeting you already. Well, maybe he is taking a nap before going on patrol.
Without any further thoughts, you make your way into the dinning room to get something to eat before you get back to work. The silence stretches and there‘s nothing happening around you. Surely Bruce is taking care of Jason anyway. He is taking most of the work into his own hands these past few months either way.
The day goes around and you forgot about the strange silence that doesn‘t seem to end. A loud smack halls across the hallway, making you want to check what happened. Getting out of your office, you find yourself standing in the hallway by the top of the stairs, heart dropping.
There stands Bruce in his full gear, the colourful uniform of Robin drenched in blood. On instinct, you hurry to the two of them, hoping this is just another medical emergency.
What happens after is a blur of panicked shouts and denial. Jason‘s cold body is the proof of Joker‘s gruesome games, but you still won‘t believe it. Bruce always takes good care of him and does his best to protect him, there‘s not a chance he could let anything happen to him. But not this time.
»I was too late.«
These words are difficult to register in your head as you stare down at Jason‘s lifeless body. The once eager and motivated child now lays on a medical bed, body cold.
»What?«
Finally, you snap out of your trance and glance at Bruce, recognising the same dissociated look on him too.
»I was too late. The building exploded when I got there.«
With a shaky breath, you can‘t hold your emotions back in. Your thoughts start to race again, the sheer imagination of what Jason had to go through to end up like this makes you want to throw up. You haven‘t felt so hopeless in a long time.
You remember the day you took him in. You remember it being a good idea, helping a lost child. You remember telling Bruce it‘s not a good idea to make him Robin. If you would‘ve let the boy behind back then, let him take his own way back home, then maybe he wouldn‘t end like this. If you‘d argued more with Bruce about Robin, this wouldn‘t happen. You shoud‘ve taken better care of Jason. Just because you spend an hour longer at work, Jason died.
It‘s all because of you.
Releasing a sob against your will, you quickly leave the Batcave and hide yourself in your room. Trembling hands and blurry vision, unclear thoughts, your breath gets stuck in your throat. Hyperventilating and panicking, you curl up against your door and hide. You hide from the guilt, you hide from the reality. But it‘s all to no avail. You know the truth, you know that this is no one‘s fault but yours and Bruce‘s. You did the opposite of what you are supposed to do.
You lost him.
The funeral is silent. Your ears are ringing the whole time, seeing Jason‘s grave is something you never even thought about seeing one day. It‘s destroying you. Burning you from the inside and out.
You don‘t talk to Bruce. It‘s difficult to even look at him. The heavy tension and grief is hard to ignore in the manor and you do your best to isolate yourself from him and avoid talking to anyone. Alfred makes sure to leave food by your door and politely pleades you to talk to him, at least. But you wouldn‘t budge.
The grief is replaced with numbness after a few weeks. You still visit his grave every day and talk to him, reading a few pages of his favourite book as if he is sitting right beside you again.
◐
Three years have passed from the tragic incident and Batman still has a Robin. His real name is Tim Drake and you managed to take him in just as well as the other two boys you had. Tim also managed to keep Bruce on track, although you can‘t recognise him after Jason‘s death. Bruce acts almost always out of pure emotion and fights more aggressively against the criminals. He comes back with more cuts and bruises than before. He became more reckless.
You talked to him, but it ended in a verbal fight again. The situation only seems to worsen once a new Crime Lord appeared in Gotham, who seems to be more powerful than any of the others.
You try to focus on your work and keep going like before, but you often find yourself staring at the group picture of your brother, Jason and Alfred you once took on his first birthday together. Sighing out, you keep your eyes on your paperwork and focus on it again.
Ding
Since Alfred is busy, working in the winter garden, you decide to answer the door. You open the gate at the front before you open the front door and take a closer look at who pays a visit. You don‘t recognise the tall figure, but you guess it‘s Bruce for a brief moment, before that thought quickly dismisses your mind.
Bruce is on patrol.
Finally, the tall and brooding figure is in front of you. He is still unfamiliar, but also seems trusting at the same time.
»Sorry… what‘s your name?«
You sigh out, making it clear that you don‘t have time for any pranks. But the tall, almost intimidating person won‘t budge and finally takes his hood off.
His face looks familiar. However, you can‘t seem to recognise him.
Jason should‘ve expected the confused stare. There‘s no way someone could recognise him again after being dead for three years.
»Jay.«
He extends his hand for you, introducing himself with that same nickname you gave him all these years ago.
Finally, your expression changes with a sense of surprise and disbelief. You repeat his name in a hushed whisper, heart starting to race.
Rushing him inside, you hold onto his hand to make sure he is real and actually there, not just a hallucination. Reaching up to cup his cheeks, you finally sigh out and believe your eyes.
»H-How are you… is this real?«
And finally, Jason lets his guard down and steps closer to hug you tightly. He still isn‘t used to his strength, squeezing you almost painfully tight, but you won‘t dare to comment on it. Instead, you happily hug him back and savour the feeling.
It‘s the first time in a long while that you felt truly comforted and you want to lock him inside your heart, so he won‘t get lost again.
»I can‘t stay for long.«
Jason speaks up quietly, aware of the butler being further away, but he doesn‘t want to risk it. You tense and get nervous by his words, looking at him again.
»What do you mean? Are you okay?« He doesn‘t really react at your words and just presses his lips together into a thin line.
»It‘s because of Bruce. I can‘t explain it to you but you have to trust me.«
He repeats and lets go of the hug, taking some steps towards the exit.
And you really try to convince him otherwise and stay, at least tell you what he‘s been through and what happened. But you couldn‘t and he is gone as fast as he appeared.
You should‘ve argued for longer. You should have made him stay, you could be more strict with him and actually make a change. However, this is how it‘s always been. You can‘t be persistent enough. Jason left again because you didn‘t do enough.
a/n: Originally, this was supposed to a angst/comfort drabble, but my dear friend sent me more sad videos of Jason, so I decided to be mean too. Hope you enjoyed it!!💕
←MASTERLIST
#fanfic#dc comics#batfam#batfamily#jason todd#drabble#jason todd angst#redhood#jason todd fic#dc robin#robin#batman and robin#robin dc#batman comics#dc batman#bruce wayne#batsis!reader#alfred pennyworth#dick grayson#jason todd robin#robin ii#robin jason todd#angst#angst no comfort
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before the season starts, do you have predictions based on the current rosters/draftees? who do you think will be standout players? who might have the best season? etc etc
Making me flex my creds after a couple bourbons, I see you!
The Good: Boston is the team to beat this year. They didn't lose any of their stars this year (to retirement or free agency), they got my No. 1 pick of the draft in Hannah Bilka, and Frankel/Soderberg still make the best one-two goalie tandem in the league. The only question mark on the roster is if the new-look D corps can take some of the pressure off the goalie.
Montreal didn't tweak much of their roster, nor did they have to. ARD is aging out of her prime, but you've got a window there with her, MPP, and Stacey that you need to maximize. Hope that you can get a draft seed that doesn't rematch you against Boston and maximize what you can get from your role players. O'Neill was sneaky good last year and is only 26.
The Bad: Toronto is going to regress. You can bookmark this and come back to clown on me if they get the top seed again, but I don't see the pieces lining up for a second year in a row. Campbell isn't a strong enough goalie to stand on her head every game, and they were carried by an offense that will take a hit as Spooner works her way back from major surgery. I don't expect her to hit the wall as hard as, say, Tyler Seguin did after his season from hell a couple years ago, but you never want to be in a spot where your sparkplug is a step behind. (At the time of this post, Toronto also only has five goalies under contract, which... remember what I just said about Soupy standing on her head? Yeah.)
Ottawa has one big regression candidate as well, and that's Maschmeyer. Masch not only has the most mileage on her body from last season (not her fault, Abstreiter was working through injury) but she has a newborn at home, and I anticipate the Cole Hamels problem coming into play. Hamels, for those who didn't follow the Phillies in the late aughts, had a newborn at home right before the 2009 playoffs and suddenly forgot how to pitch, because he was sleeping maybe two hours a night. I think the Charge knew Masch was primed to take a step back, and that's why they swung for Gwyneth Philips in the draft. Philips was lights out in college - not sure how she'll adjust to senior-level play.
The Ugly: Let's talk about the elephant in the room that is Minnesota. A title hangover is real, and it's made worse by the behind-the-scenes drama. When I say that I expect Britta Curl to be a liability for the Frost, I'm not just talking about her Twitter personality. I had the misfortune of watching her on the Badgers for five years, and she may have decent counting stats, but I noticed a selfish, whiny player, which carried over her to her national team play. On D, you're expecting Clare Thompson to be a major contributor after an extended break from competitive play. The one good thing you can say about Minnesota is that Heise is finally healthy. You can't tell me that AC injury wasn't bugging her the back half of last season. I do think Taylor needs to add one step to her game, and it's physicality. A lot of that was being snakebitten by injury, but she has the frame of a power forward, and she needs to be throwing her weight around like Knight does.
And, last but unfortunately least... New York. For what it's worth, they will get a Fillier deal done now that they've indicated they're open to a shorter contract. I really like the Schroeder/Levy tandem. The coaching change will do them well. Now that I've given them their flowers, I need to be mean for a second. The Sirens do not have a player who can quarterback their offense. I love Alex Carpenter deeply, but she thrives as a second choice. She buries the greasy goals that snipers and true playmakers leave out for her. Abby Roque is the same way. That was my worry about taking Fillier 1OA - Princeton fucked her up. They took a dynamic, play-driving forward and made her a passive floater. Now she's on a team of people who hang around the zone, waiting for something to happen.
Players to Watch: I'm excited to see what Izzy Daniel can do with competent players around her. Her counting stats in her Patty Kaz year weren't great, but that'll happen when you're dragging along a husk of a team. Minnesota must have seen something in Hymlarova that I didn't. I've watched a lot of St. Cloud State hockey, and they're. Well. Not terribly great. Brooke McQuigge was sneaky good for Clarkson, perennial thorn in the rest of the NCAA's side. Elle Hartje has a good hockey IQ and 200-foot vision (though she doesn't solve New York's dynamo problem). Anna Wilgren adapted very well to Mark Johnson's system last year, which shows an adaptability that will come in handy in the pros.
#answered#kiera watches hockey#pwhl#boston fleet#montreal victoire#toronto sceptres#ottawa charge#minnesota frost#new york sirens
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"I'm constantly shaking my fist at urbanites and their domination of the conversation, although mostly out of naked envy." MOOOOOOOD!!! This is so well put tbh. Like I now live in what to me is a big city (15k ppl & we have a WHOLE hospital! With an MRI and everything!) & my local trans community is two (2) regulars who come into my work who probably don't know my (dead)name and I would die for them both. I know statistically there's more of us. In fact I bet most of them (including one of the earlier two) are in the same boat of well transitioning isnt safe so here the fuck I am. & Like both sides of the discourse sometimes get me seething in still-not-used-to-not-being-vastly-outnumbered-by-cows. Like "stop being weird & just go to the gay bar" and "transmascs are invading our Sacred Trans Spaces" both have me just. Some of us are out here marvelling at not having to drive over half an hour to get milk that's cheaper than 5 bucks updated for 2024: 7 bucks a gallon. & Like there's definitely plenty of us that are in 7 bucks for a gallon of milk land! There's people that have to drive hours to get gender affirming care because they have to drive hours to access healthcare. I'd love to hear the acknowledgement that we exist from people that aren't us but mostly I just covet what they have.
Every time people talk about public transportation I feel like I'm reading fan discussion of Clop Flitter racing dimblows in Star Wars.
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Tear-Stained Cheeks
Dick turns to Bruce.
“How long has he been gone again?”
It feels like we’ve been looking for him forever, but it can’t have been that long, right? There’s no way he’s dead either. That’s just not possible.
“Almost seven weeks now.”
It’s definitely possible, even probable now.
“Where else is there to look?”
“We’ve searched all of Gotham, so we have to expand from there. Joker hasn’t uttered a single peep since he took Tim, and has given us nothing to go off of. I’m not sure what to do at this point.”
“Have you asked Clark to-”
“Yes, and he can’t find him either. I don’t know why, I didn’t stick around to ask. I had better leads to follow if he couldn’t help.”
“That’s fair, I guess. So, where do you want to start?”
“I’m going to start in this area right outside of Gotham, and I want you to start in this city to the North of us,” Bruce says, pointing out a specific spot on the map. “I’ll give you details about the city, and where we’re more likely to find something. Where to start, and where to go from there. I stayed up doing research on both of these cities, so I have everything we could possibly need to know.”
Dick doesn’t say anything since he didn’t sleep last night either. He takes the papers that Bruce offers to him, and he starts reading through them as he heads out to his car. Bruce gets into the Batmobile, and speeds away. Dick continues to his car, reading all of the information that Bruce compiled. It’s everything he might need to know about the city, the crime there, and none of the extra stuff that he doesn’t need to know.
He gets into his car, and drives there, going way over the speed limit and getting there in less than half an hour. He’s searching his third warehouse when his comm crackles.
“You need to get down here. I think I found them,” Bruce says, his voice shaking.
“Ok, just send me the coordinates, and I’ll be there as fast as I can.”
He races to meet Bruce, but it still takes him almost an hour to get there. The place ends up being a crumbling building with almost all of the windows broken. The quiet dissipates the closer Dick gets to the building. Laughing and crying could be heard, and it’s almost enough to stop Dick in his tracks. He considerably slows down even though he’s dealt with the Joker enough to know how bad it could be.
That’s part of why he slows down. He’s not quite ready to see what’s going on yet. However, he continues following the laughter, which is dwindling into more tears. It’s startling to realize that the person who’s crying is also the person who’s laughing, and it sounds just like the Joker.
What could that possibly mean?
He reaches a door, and he can hear soft words. Not loud enough that he can tell what they’re saying, but enough to know that it’s his dad saying it. He opens the door quietly, and takes a quick look around the room. Joker is in one corner of the room, his face almost nothing more than blood and Dick can definitely see a bit of his skull where his forehead is supposed to be.
Bruce, still in full costume, is in the middle of the room, cradling a child to his chest. The child has green hair, and a face full of makeup. He’s the spitting image of the man who’s killed so many people, and while the laughs are almost fully gone now, those sound just like him too.
Why is there a child here? He’s so small, and he looks young too.
It doesn’t dawn on Dick immediately. He steps forward, wondering what’s happening. The child is just sobbing now, holding onto Bruce’s cape. Bruce continues to whisper reassurances, even as tears fall down his own face. That’s when Dick finally sees it.
“Tim?” Dick whispers, his voice breaking at the end. His eyes fill with tears too, and they quickly slip down his face. “No.”
Bruce’s voice cracks, and he trails off, still cradling Tim as close as he can. Dick drops to his knees beside them. He reaches out, and brushes the stray hair off of Tim’s face. He’s done that so many times, but this time it isn’t soft black hair under his fingers. Tim also normally glances up to give Dick a smile, or leans into his hand, but he doesn’t do that this time. He flinches, his breath catching.
Bruce is shaking, but he’s trying not to jostle Tim too much, and Dick’s hand is still just an inch away from Tim. He’s shaking like a leaf, and already feels like he’s going to throw up.
“What did-?”
“I don’t know,” Bruce whispers, clutching Tim just a little bit tighter.
Tim has started to go limp in Bruce’s hold, his eyes unfocused. They stay like that for a long time before Bruce finally rises onto shaking legs.
“Is he?” Dick asks, looking at Joker.
“I don’t know, but it’s likely at this point. There’s too much blood. Can you call Gordon? I don’t want Tim to be here when he shows up, but I don’t want to take any risks with them.”
“Where’s Harley?”
“She’s in the kitchen. I slammed her face into the counter, and I don’t know if she’s still ok. Normally I’d have worried about medical assistance before now, but I just-” he trails off again, looking back at the child in his arms.
“I get it. I’ll handle Gordon and those two. Just get him home, and call Leslie, ok?”
Bruce nods, and slowly makes his way out of the room. Dick approaches Joker slowly, and leans down to check his pulse. He finds Harley and does the same thing before grabbing his phone. Gordon answers almost immediately since he’s been working on finding Tim with them too.
“Nightwing, did you find something?”
“Yeah. I’m going to send you an address, and you need to get down here.”
Gordon picks up on his tone immediately.
“Is there a rush?”
“No rush. You won’t even need men for an escort, or anything.”
“Robin isn’t…”
“Robin is not dead.”
“Oh thank God.”
“Joker and Harley are though.”
“What?” Gordon’s shocked reply is breathless and quiet.
“They’re dead. Robin is in bad shape, but Batman already left with him. We’re going to do what we can, and I’ll fill you in on the details later. For now, I just need you to come deal with their bodies.”
It’s quiet for a minute, then, “Ok, I’ll be there as soon as I can. Just send me the address, and I’ll get started.”
“Hurry, I want to get home.”
Gordon hums, and hangs up. Dick sits on the ground, trying to process what happened until Gordon shows up. Dick leaves almost immediately after that, ignoring Gordon’s questions regarding Tim. It’s not like he really has that much information to give him in the first place, but he wasn’t in the mood to talk even if he did. So, he just keeps walking until he gets to his car. Then he goes home to meet Bruce and Tim. Bruce is sitting alone in the main area of the cave, so Dick sits next to him.
“What did Leslie have to say?”
“She said that he doesn’t seem to remember us. He was drugged, and tortured. He’s convinced that his name is Joker Junior, and that Joker and Harley were his parents. He’s confused, and can’t seem to grasp what she asks him. His cognitive function is not great, and his mind is shattered. She doesn’t know how much of it is fixable, but apparently she has some hope for the situation. He’s sedated, and she’s looking into rehabilitation places that could do this on the down low.”
“So what do we do from here?”
“We support him, and we do whatever we have to for him to get better.”
Dick leans against Bruce.
“I can’t believe we failed another one.”
Bruce hums.
“I’ve been thinking the same thing since I got here. We have a chance to make this one better though.”
“I hope so.”
#angstober#angstober 2024#no.19#tear-stained cheeks#batman#tim drake#joker junior#bruce wayne#dick grayson#whump writing#writing challenge
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Can you tell us more about you're trip to Kazakhstan!
I recently watched a doc about their crazy population struggles over the last century and it has made me v interested. What was it like travelling there, how did you get around etc
Of course! I was there for two weeks with my friends and though we covered quite a lot of ground all things considered (Kazakhstan is just huge; it can fit 134 Slovenias :p), we had to pick and choose what to see (read: I had to pick and choose and the others agreed hahah) and still out time there was pretty packed.
�� anyway I love talking about stuff like this, so I'm putting it under the cut, it's gonna get long Ꜣ) ෴
We started out in Astana and the city is really interesting, I have to say the authoritarian architecture with the central promenade is really fascinating,
but the other parts of the city are also interesting and I liked both the Expo center and the National Museum.
It does feel more plain than Almaty, though, and the planned-city aspect does come to fore when there's the slightest bit of rain and half the roads are suddenly under water.
Then we flew down to the Caspian sea (as predicted :p), the Mañğystau region, and started our 2-day tour (and had breakfast), setting off to the Karagiye (Qaraqia) depression (the road we were on goes to -116 m, the lowest point of the depression is at -134 m), the Ustyurt (Üstırt) plateau – the Sor Tuzbair (Tūzbair sory) dry salt lake (yesterday's pic is from there), the Sherkala (Şerqala) rock, the Köqala rock with petrified plants and trees, the valley of balls, the Shakpak Ata (Şaqpaq Ata) underground mosque – all just really really awesome things to see.
Honestly, I initially wanted us to go to the more inner part of the plateau as well, but we were there for just two days and that was already more than enough off-road driving, especially since there was more to come. Oh and our guide did have an English dictionary in the car lol but my best friend is fluent in Russian so she was translating for us – she also dealt with finding the tour because that's easier to find and cheaper to arrange on Russian-language sites.
Initially, I also wanted us to go to Baikonur, but that's officially Russian territory and a military object, so visitors from unfriendly countries are unfortunately (– in the tour organizer's words) not welcome ("hopefully that changes in the future"). And though it would be interesting to see the Aral sea up close and Baikonur even from some distance, the 30-hour train-ride + missing out on some other part(s) of the trip was not worth it.
Instead we took a plane from Aqtau to Shymkent (Şymkent) – I did end up seeing the Aral sea from above! – and then a taxi to Turkistan (Türkıstan). There we saw the Mausoleum of Ahmed Khoja Yasawi, went to the 8D flying theater (as cringy as the history of Kazakhstan presentation part is, with fake props and stuff, the part where they strap you in and have you virtually fly around the country is pretty awesome, ngl), had an interesting airbnb experience (tl;dr at the insistence of others we switched to a hotel) and went to the Otrar (Otyrar) archaeological site, again with a taxi, and almost died of the heat there – coincidentally we were there on the first of the two days when the hottest day on record world temerature records were broken one after another; it was something like 45°C and very little shade.
It was really interesting being in this part of Kazakhstan, because it was obvious that while Russian still got you farther than English, fewer people had a good knowledge of it. For some, my level of Russian was closer to theirs than that of my friend who speaks it fluently.
Anyway, then we did get on a train and took a 17-hour overnight ride to Almaty Ꜣ) We spet a day washing our clothes there, walked around the city a bit (went to the Baikonur metro station, at least, lmao) – it reminded me much more of Bishkek than Astana, it's much greener than the latter, for one. But the next day we were already on our way on a 4-day tour around this part of the country.
We spent two days in the Altyn Emel national park – both the white mountains and the volcanic rocks of Qatutau were awesome, but the best part was still the sand dunes (even if we didn't hear them sing) and seeing a Przewalski horse with a foal galloping around (my pic of that is not the best, but still)! Though I made a mistake in taking my shoes off before going up the sand dune and leaving them there at the bottom because when we then ran down the steeper part of the sand dune and ended up on another side of it, the sand there was extremely hot and I had to run from one grass bush – and the minimal amount of shade that provided – to another... but I made it, eventually. That day we had lunch in the only Uyghur-majority village in Kazakhstan (and were again wondering what makes lagman lagman because the different versions we've had on the trip differed to the point that no ingredient was the same, but it was still called lagman... we never got to the bottom of it) and slept over in the radioactive spa (not what it's actually called, it's just that the hot spring water there is rich in radon, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯).
The following day we continued on to lake Tūzköl (which is not included in most of these tour plans that are offered, so we had to ask for that to be included separately because I insisted; initially I was looking at a tour that goes on into the Bayankol (Baiynköl) valley, but that tour provider turned out not to exist anymore so I was looking for something similar, and there was nothing really – the tour we found was on indyguide, I believe, and ended up being great, but it was also a compromise of what can fit into a 4-day tour anyway) – this was probably my favorite part of the tour, including the road to there (whence the pictures of the bus stops – one of my friends who's really into this Soviet-style architecture was so overjoyed when we stumbled upon them, she almost cried hahah), and I've posted pictures from the lake before too :D I went a bit around the lake on my own and I met some Kazakh ladies, one was there with a daughter who's an art student (in Almaty) and spoke English as well so we could chat a bit more (I did talk to the older ladies in Russian too), it was just really nice.
On the way to Charyn (Şaryn) canyon, which was also really impressive, we had lunch and danced with the ladies who prepared it lol, and the last day with lakes Kölsai and Kaindy (Qaiyñdy) was also great – both are mountain lakes, so that's a bit more familiar, but Kaindy especially with the tree spikes was quite fascinating. By the time we got back to Almaty we were really tired, but still went out for drinks – and just walking around, on the wall on some random hospital, I saw the most beautiful mural I'd ever seen...
We did also go to the Almaty market (that was when I could ask the taxi driver about the Uyghur situation, as I'd posted about), where I got a nice book and also had to do a double-take at this old lady walking around polishing a dildo – and then I saw that they're selling them just like that on the stands among other random stuff like shirts and tea pots and chess sets, as you will... Then we also just walked around the city – went to a small gallery, to a student quarter and ended the trip by going to the Auyl restaurant nestled in the mountains above Almaty.
There was a lot that happened in just those two weeks and I loved it!
#jonnystrebor#ask#thank you!#if you send me an ask like this im kissing you on the mouth or whatever they say nowadays 😌#j#kazakhstan#my photos#and one of#me
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REMOTE RAIDING
This is. Well, let’s just say that as I did it, I did not know it would be so brief an opportunity.
Here is the tale of the first time I ever participated in a remote raid. Just like my earlier tutorial on how to win raids, it relies on an ecosystem that may be about to vanish, thanks to some new changes to the game. These changes were announced literally fifteen minutes after I completed the experience I’m about to relate.
So I was watching a channel on a Discord I’d recently joined, where people were trying to coordinate enough people to do a five-skull Legendary raid. I’m still not a very strong player, I don’t have a wide or deep bench for raiding, so I am uncomfortably aware I can’t really contribute anything. So I watched the more advanced players fill a lobby, and coordinate sending invites, and I wrote a message asking for an invite if there was a space left but then deleted it. Too shy, I don't know these people well yet, I really genuinely don't have any good raiders, I'd just take up a space and be annoying, I won't do it.
And then I watched the raid coordinator reappear in the channel saying “where are you guys”, and the “i didn’t get the invite yet” responses trickled in, and then suddenly the raid coordinator’s there saying “wait a minute I backed out but you all got in????” and then several minutes of no response, and then the others saying “oh no”
The invites hadn’t arrived, so the coordinator bailed from the lobby with 20 sec remaining, and at 19 sec all the invites went through and the other five joined, and went on to do the raid.
The coordinator was locked out and missed the whole thing.
Everyone was very sorry about it but it was too late.
Fortunately, there was another gym nearby, and most everyone was willing to do a second raid. And with remotes, it wasn’t that big a deal.
So I got up my nerve, noticing not everyone could come back, and asked if there was a leftover space, and there was! So I bought a remote pass, which I’d never done before, and sure enough! In I went!
This time there wasn’t a glitch. There were only four high-level players, and me, but that was enough. I got every one of my guys fainted and rejoined in time to finish.
And then I threw ball after ball at the raid reward critter. I used my technique, with a nanab berry and a curveball, nine times, and did really well because I wasn't outside with wet numb fingers and my screen getting snowed on-- it's amazing how much easier this game is to play from indoors, really. With five balls remaining I switched to using Golden Razz berries, and I missed once which was horrible, but I did manage to land four curveballs on the thing. With one ball left I sadly put a final Golden Razz on, and thought, well, what’s hilarious is that I’d had a daily research task to land Three Great Curveballs in a row and I’d been about to delete the damn thing after a thousand broken streaks, but I just managed five in a row like twice on this guy. Raid rewards have HUGE target areas, as I’ve mentioned before. So even if all I get out of this is the experience, at least I've completed my ridiculous research task, that's worth it for the story.
And then on the last ball, it stuck, and I got my Lugia.
We were still chatting in the channel when the news broke that they’re jacking up the price and reducing availability of remote raid passes. I was especially sad, as I’m going to be spending the summer in a rural area with very few gyms nearby, and had been thinking that you know, I don’t spend a ton on entertainment, and if I’m in the middle of nowhere not spending money in bars, it wouldn’t be like. Crazy to drop a couple bucks on Pokecoins now and then, to get some remote raid pass packs to do stuff like this once in a while. Raids are fun, less frustrating than PVP, and while it’s going to take me a long time to get a good enough crew to be able to do much on my own, if I have these generous supportive more advanced friends who are willing to let me tag along once in a while, well that’s a pretty decent little occasional pastime, and with the remote passes even if I don't have time to get off the farm and into the city much I can still have fun in this game, and--
Well now I’m not giving Niantic my money, but they almost had me there, for a minute. Almost!!!
(I haven't talked here yet about my sole experience with the Elite Raids, for which you have to be in-person, and which were a shitshow. Commitment to in-person experience my ass.)
#pokemon go#you know you're really a PoGo player when you start to hate Niantic#the salt is tremendous#it'd be one thing if they were improving stuff#but i'm never going to bother with an elite raid again#not if i have to drive half an hour to get there#but maybe they'll make something cool?#i have very little faith in this but i can be optimistic#pikipek army
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this job has so far been extremely uneventful which also freaks me out because I'm like. What's the catch when is it going to start attacking me
#maybe the catch is i get up at 3:45 am drive half an hour and sort mail and lift boxes all day#idk i keep expecting someone to start harrassing me or yelling or having a medical emergency or an active shooter to break in#like i'm just waiting for it to activate my fight or flight but it's not yet and THAT'S activating my fight or flight#idk why i'm acting like some type of scared Creature like a shivering rodent or something#anyway. i'm waiting for the therapist office to start making calls back in January so until then y'all get to just overhear this#two days into this job and i have not cried on my way home! low bar but previous jobs have not passed it
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.
#currently on the worst road trip of my whole entire life! well. i don't want to jinx it lmao but#today i popped TWO TIRES at once in the middle of the Katy Freeway in Houston TX (the widest highway in the US; 26 lanes btw)#managed to make it over to the shoulder without DYING but then had to sit there for like an hour? and panic called a tow truck because duh#I know how to change a tire but I was – again – sitting on the shoulder of the widest freeway on the continent so#anyway I called a tow; a guy showed up. I assumed it was the tow! turned out it was not. but he helped me put on the spare and then was lik#“follow me to my shop I can do the tires for you” and I was like okay! 👍 but then the ACTUAL tow called me and I realized this was#just a random guy (very nice up to that point but then I got scared about following him to a secondary location?) and so I didn't lmao#I just kept driving and didn't follow him but the guy on the phone was then mad at me because I wasn't where I said I would be because#AGAIN – I thought the original guy WAS the tow company that I called? but anyway guy 2 on the phone was like “YOU OWE ME $200!!!!”#and I said for what? also how would I pay you? and he tried to get me to cash app him lmao?? I didn't. I hung up on him#he called me like 6 more times yelling at me until I finally just blocked his number 💀#however NOW at this point I'm driving on one spare tire and one rapidly-flattening second tire and I still have 3 hours left to get where#I was going for the night and to top it all off I'm in the middle of a city I've only been to one time before? so I manage to get to a hote#like a nice-ish one where I'm like “okay if I get stuck here this won't be the end of the world”#because keep in mind today is a national holiday so basically everything is closed!!!! btw!!!!!#but eventually I'm sitting there and it's literally 100F outside and I remember oh right lol I have car insurance which pays for a tow#(a normal one; not a random one I panic-found on google who calls me screaming at me to cash app him $200)#so anyway I call my insurance and the guy on the phone is very nice and is like “it's okay; we'll have someone to you in 45 min”#and I'm like okay. OKAY. 🙌💪 I am a strong independent woman who is figuring this out and no longer on the side of the highway#but instead in a nice calm neighborhood and all I have to do is wait 45 min and everything will be okay#one hour goes by. I call back. get redirected to the tow company that was dispatched. guy says oh! is my guy not there yet?#I say no. he says okay – I'll have him call you. hangs up.#okay. 20 more min go by. guy finally calls me. says “I'm 20-25 min away” at this point I've been waiting about an hour and a half#I say. okay? okay. 30 more minutes go by. I try to call the guy back. straight to voicemail. three more calls. three more no answers.#I call my insurance back. sit on hold for 15 min. eventually get put through to a different person who's like “okay let me check on him”#get put on hold. eventually she comes back and says “okay he says 15 minutes” I've been waiting over 2 hours at this point. I have to PEE#I just... burst into tears. on the phone with this poor random woman from Geico Insurance. I'm bawling my eyes out.#she was trying to get claim info from me but I'm crying so hard she's like “oh baby no. okay. okay. we can get that from you tomorrow.”#when you cry so hard that even the insurance company is like “you know what we're just going to let this one slide”#anyway guy eventually shows up. he's very nice even though I hate him a little for being so late. he drives me to an OPEN TIRE SHOP
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i just realized i havent even been talking on here about how close my surgery is.
I'm getting top surgery tomorrow. in 12 hours i will probably be in surgery.
holy shit how did this month go by so fast.
#i have to get up at 4 AM and drive for an hour and a half to be at the clinic at six#its in the bay area#im their first patient of the day 😌#im mostly excited tbh it adds an element to the excitement that i'll be up so early when its still dark
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Monster hunter rising is currently $3 more then the disgusting Oreo smoothie w/ boba that I had tonight. Do I get it?
#ive never played a monster hunter game#but i think id like?#despite me having a hard time playing video games#the steam sales always end up getting me#pixel blurbs#also oreos are gross#idk why i got that tonight#brain wasnt thinking#i still drank half bc i was hungry and had an hour drive#but eugh#certified oreo hater
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Dysprosium, Mary Soon Lee
dysprosium, AN 66, is a silvery-white rare earth metal. its name is derived from the greek dysprositos, meaning “hard to get at”, owing to the difficulty in separating and isolating this rare earth element. dysprosium is used to measure neutron flux, to fuel reactors, and to activate phosphors. terfenol-d is a magnetorestrictive alloy, meaning that it changes shape when a magnetic field is applied, and is used to manufacture underwater acoustic systems.
jason “robo” robertson, dallas stars #21 for @simmyfrobby’s nhl periodic table poems <3
#i had a couple different ideas for poems that were taken by the time i could go deranged for a couple hours to make this but as I looked#i was like WAIT NONE OF YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I LOVE JASON ROBERTSON YOU HAVEN’T SEEN MY TEXAS CAM and had to do it. also was STRUCK with the#sudden immaculate vision of the Dallas D as part of terfenol-D and could not get it out & robo is the most dance! person i know on the team#liv in the replies#dallas stars#jason robertson#nhl periodic table poems#guys i am plagued with visions and no execution skills!! every day i come here and learn one new skill on GIMP the way god intended!!!#today it was emboss. also cannot claim any credit for the pulse to the magnetic beat photo which is so cool that was one where i had a#couple and was like maybe i can do like crayon shockwaves like the art process video kasper showed? and then found that picture and was#like thank you lord stanley for knowing my limitations. thank you for your understanding in this moment it was a trial enough to make#expand contract dance and one would THINK i would have fucking learned from the claude animorphs tragedy!! i did not. but i did use the#shear tool and 3D rotate so at least if we’re animorphing it’s SLIGHTLY better. anyway me frantically doing this like WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT#WAIT FOR ME YOU GUYS ARE SO FAST i keep seeing all of these and just spinning around in circles until i get dizzy & fall down I’m so happy#the drive folder for this is just called joy!!!!! because joy this is such a cool idea but now because it brings me so much joy#i just saw the Travis dermott one and burst into tears super normal AND someone did exactly what i wanted with hydrogen which was the water#the ice!!!!! it’s so perfect!!! and cody ofc did silver lord stanley. like does it ever make you cry how beautiful & creative everyone is?#anyway if you see me post and delete this and then update it or change it no you didn’t it’s fine. but i wanted to be included#if i could make the dysprosium letters not have a white background i would I simply could not fuck with it at 1AM. we are hitting send#it may not look like it but i queue#pretend i spoke at length about the reasons why i picked all the pictures & the element just know that it’s there inside my brain u can ask#GUYS I TAKE IT ALL BACK I SAW NEONFRETRA’S ISOTOPES AND I COULD MAKE THE EDITS EVEN THOUGH THEY’RE THERE!! ISOTOPES!!!! YOU GUYS!!!!!!#get ready for the edits then. dylan magnesium my beloved child of stars who can never return… like i wish i could say anyone else but it’s#i KNOW number nineteens bismuth don’t make me Google how many years nolan played hockey but also there’s ej for stable so.. also half-life#actinium claude giroux my beloved… when i saw there already was a claude i thought maybe Brady too for that#I don’t know how but flerovium doubled magic is percolating in my brain as was promethium bad boy because I was like hmmm. tyler. but#couldn’t commit and THEN SOMEONE DID BAD BAD LEROY BROWN TYLER BERTUZZI TO PROMETHIUM AND BESTIE I AM KISSING YOU ON THE MOUTH!!! with cons#anyway shane wright germanium with juraj slafkovský but showing him very obviously not missing it. if jack eichel was not an asshole#the narratives WOULD be narrativing. you could argue for a sidovi here with the calder cup and potentially a best friend stealing narrative#(the most recent is cam yorke’s acquisition of jamie d from trevor zegras which would then require a yorkie one for silicon the other side)
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me; *(spends five hours planning out my courses for the university i just got accepted into this morning, in a way so that im guranteed to succeed and wont leave me burnt out and drained)*
the university: oopsie daisies!! nope, you can't do that!! forever why would we want someone to actually succeed at what they're good at and want to do??? nope!! you gotta remove most if not all of those first year courses and replace them with a larger variety of things for a more diverse learning experience, whether you hold interest or talent in those subjects or not!!!! oh and you gotta do these two courses as well, these are actually required, haha, i forgot to tell you that!
me, now destined to burn out and fail:
#i just. i just fucking cant.#i was excited to finally get a start on things and i had things planned perfectly#cause i CANNOT DO WELL in classes that DONT INTEREST ME#but no. i have to have languages and sciences in here. cause i can't take all humanities.#and i have to take two boring as shit art history courses as well#or else they'll KICK ME OUT.#why the FUCK cant i just do the ones i wanna do??? they're all first year courses!!!#why should i have to do stuff i hold no interest or talent in and am going to fail at???#just completely fucking obliterated all my motivation and drive to actually go to school.#and now ive spent an hour and a half trying to conform to their hard to decipher course requirements#and now my schedule- which looked managable for me before- looks horrible and draining.#im GOING to fail because of these requirements.#i know this. i know my brain.#im never going to be able to do anything with my life cause every single thing#has stupid locked doors that i dont have the keys to standing in my way#vent
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