#because it was within living memory of anybody over 30 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

a-froger-epic · 3 years

Text

About the Interview

Since I posted the interview with J - a woman who has described herself to me as one of Queen’s first “groupies” - there has naturally been a lot of discussion about the veracity of the interview, the source, and my own motivations in posting it. I fully expected that, and I will say once more that nobody (apart from a small handful of anonymous trolls) has behaved inappropriately in these discussions. I have not received any “hate” because of this. There is no “drama”. Nobody is wrong, or a party-pooper, or attacking me by expressing their doubts. I have seen some awful bile spat at people anonymously recently, and that kind of behaviour has got to stop.

Now, if you don't think I am genuine, there is obviously nothing I can do about that.

However, what I am hoping to do here is add as much transparency as I can in regard to how and why the interview happened, and also share my own full thoughts on it with you.

First things first. No unverified, anonymous source can be seen as definitive proof of anything, ever. That is my stance. I have myself been criticised for so much as suggesting that other anonymous sources tied in with Freddie’s history are not 100% proof of one thing or another. But for me, an anonymous source can never mean more than at best: this seems very likely, but we can’t be 100% certain.

Perhaps I was naive to think that what I considered to be enough of a disclaimer at the beginning of the interview, was enough. My intention was to express that while I, personally, believe J to be a) the person she says she is and b) genuine about what she remembers, that does not mean I believe everything she has told me is fact or happened in that exact way. I thought this was obvious. Perhaps I was unclear, and I apologise for that.

So let me be clear. There is nobody in the world who has perfect, factual recollections of what happened to them almost 50 years ago. Not even J herself claims for one moment that this is the case. She mentions several times that these are old memories from when she was very young, that she indulged in recreational drugs at the time, and that her views - of course - carry a personal bias. All this, I thought, would be enough for readers to know not to take everything they read at face value.

All of the above is why I kept my own thoughts and notes to a minimum within the interview, why I didn’t correct or point out obvious mistakes. I simply assumed that everybody would go away and read the interview against all the sources and information they already have, as I have done myself.

But maybe that was somewhat irresponsible of me, and I should have been the first person to dig into how J’s memories fit in (or don’t) with the information which is already out there, and how to put the two together. While I refrained from sharing all my thoughts alongside the interview (although I have fragmentally done so in response to other people since), others like @quirkysubject (here), @iwilltrytobereasonable (here), @emmaandorlando (here), @sarinataylor and @talkingismylifewrites (here) all had some very good things to say. All of them make excellent points. DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES SEND THEM NASTY MESSAGES. I frankly can’t believe I have to say this at all.

I found myself in a difficult position, because as the person who had spoken to J and asked her all these questions, I did not feel as though I could dissect her words as freely as anybody else. She has put a lot of trust in me, and I do not want her to think that I question her honesty and intentions. Because I don’t. If I hadn’t felt as sure as I reasonably can be that she is the person she says she is, and that her story is genuine from her perspective, if I had been in any doubt about that, I would not have made it public.

Here's the thing:

Even if you don't believe J knew the boys, her recollections of the time period alone are still valuable and incredibly interesting, giving us a glimpse of early 1970s London.

But I do believe J. Why?

Before I answer that, let me just say: I fully realise that of course the fact that it was my story J happened across, and me she decided to speak to because of it, makes me more inclined to want to believe her. However, other authors I'm friends with, as well as myself, have received messages from older people several times before. It does trigger nostalgia when a story is very strongly rooted in a time somebody has lived through. There are older people in the fandom. (I recently ran a poll and all age groups were represented even here on Tumblr.)

Now, on to the reasons why my communication with J has felt nothing but authentic to me.

1. She was never in any rush to get in touch with me or relate information to me. It took her a few days to email me after she first spoke to me in the comment section, where I begged her to please get in touch. She then sent me the same email five times, over two days, because she couldn’t quite work my email address out at first.

I ended up asking several questions more than once to get an answer because they were overlooked. The conversation went off on tangents, and we chatted about her weekend at her friend’s house (and I was presented with a beautiful snapshot of the beach), the memory box her daughter made for her, her work and other things. There were stretches of days at a time when J simply didn’t find the time to get back to me. And I may have badgered her with a few too many emails asking her to please remember to answer my questions when she has a moment. In short, it was the opposite of somebody rushing to share their story. I was doing all the rushing. (I realise that I am asking you to take my word for this, but this did not all happen in a vacuum. @plainxte, @quirkysubject, @fingersfallingupwards, @onegoldenglance and @freddieofhearts witnessed the process first-hand, as well as my excitement and some of J’s original emails.)

2. J was very trusting. I know her full name, where she lives and her place of work. She sent me current pictures of herself and her husband unprompted. At no point did she ask me not to reveal her identity, that is a call I made because I did not want to expose her to any possible harassment.

3. There were a few things in her account of what she remembered which were so obviously at odds with what we know to be true - it’s well-known John is a bit taller than Roger, for example, but J remembered him shorter, Queen went to Sydney in ‘85, J remember it as ‘84 - that I couldn’t help but think, if I was somebody who was trying to convince others of a made up story, the first thing I would surely do is make absolutely certain to get the facts which are easily findable right. Instead, J always lead with: this was all a long time ago, I’m sorry, I’m doing my best trying to remember.

I realise that a very clever hoaxer could do all this and convince me. But here the question has to be, to what end? This would be quite an act for someone to arrange, to make it seem quite so naturalistic. Nobody would go through the trouble of doing that for nothing. There’s no monetary gain. Scandal? There is nothing scandalous in the interview. Attention? J is barely an active member of the fandom. She has managed to create a Tumblr though: @since72. There is one post currently.

It also took her a couple of days to get back to me after I posted the interview.

In brief, I have no logical explanation for why somebody would go to these lengths and fool me so cleverly, with such attention to detail, when there seems to be nothing in it for them. Why then did J bother to talk to me at all? What was her motivation? Well, after I thanked her profusely for doing this, she simply said that she felt she owed me as reading my story had brought back so many memories for her.

All of the above is why I strongly feel that J is very much real and genuine. But I completely understand that it all hinges on the fact that in order to believe everything I say is true, you would have to trust me. And I know that as I am just another person on the internet, you have no reason to do that. But I’ll get to me in a moment.

Here are a few more doubts which I have seen come up with regard to J.

Why would she be reading fanfiction about people she knew? That’s weird.

To be perfectly honest, exactly that was my first reaction, too. But then I thought about it and talked to friends about it.

Firstly, J says herself that she was never a close friend. I agree that it would be far weirder to read fanfiction about somebody you knew very well. Having said that, John Deacon’s son has been known to read Queen fanfic about his father (and read it out on his YouTube channel). But I think given that it’s been half a century and J has been watching Queen in the public eye ever since, it isn’t really all that strange to read about fictional versions of them.

Secondly, a friend of mine noticed that it seems as though older people in the fandom find J overall more credible than younger people. I’m 35, and it is true that the older we get, the more we look for the things which remind us of our younger years. There is an urge to remember and re-live. You can trust me on this, or you can ask anyone over the age of 30 or 40. Nostalgia is real, and it only comes to you with age. Why would somebody who had briefly brushed shoulders with people who later became celebrities not take an interest in them later? It seems natural that she would. As J says, she never stopped being a fan of Queen’s music and came across fanfic when she looked up Adam Lambert. Is it really so strange that she would find fanfic about them entertaining? Having given it all this thought, I really don’t think so.

It’s unrealistic that she was so young.

This is something I have to disagree with. Times were different. Pete Townshend entered Ealing Art School at age 16, according to Wikipedia. My mother (currently 62) moved 600km away from home at the age of 15 to study piano at music college. I myself moved out from home at 17 (no tragic reasons whatsoever), but that’s beside the point. I have seen it framed in a way where it was said that “It isn’t realistic that a 16-year-old was hanging out with Queen who were all in their 20s”. I agree, it would be a little strange if the story was that one 16-year-old girl was hanging out with Queen by herself as their good buddy. But that is not the story. (Even though it is well-known that during the 60s and 70s, young teenaged groupies did in fact hang out with rock groups very frequently. Of course, J was not that kind of groupie.) She was simply part of a large circle of friends, by her own admission not a close friend of the band. Personally, I struggle to see how this is unrealistic in any way.

It seems super suspicious that she lost her photos in a flood.

Yes, it does. I agree. J realises that, too.

Like @quirkysubject said in her post, I don’t blame anyone who is too sceptical at this point. But there actually was a pretty bad flood in Australia in 1988.

There are mistakes in J’s story!

Yes, there are! Let me point them out to you. I already mentioned John’s height and Queen being in Australia in ‘85, not ‘84. I also think that her perception that Freddie was taller than Roger in ‘72, but no longer in the 80s, had everything to do with platform shoes. I have to say that I did ask J some questions which I knew were things which are almost impossible to remember about people you weren’t particularly close to. I knew there was no way she would be able to accurately recall their heights, but I still wanted to know what the impression was which she had come away with. I don’t for one moment think she could possibly know why and if Freddie’s nickname was really ‘Freddie Baby’ at EAS well before she went there. But I still wanted to hear what she thought of that. This is why I stated specifically that this entire interview consists of one woman’s subjective opinions and memories. That alone means you can absolutely not take any of it as definitive fact. That just isn’t how memory works.

Kensington Market and the stall:

J’s answers on this one thoroughly confused me. Not only did she say that while she saw Freddie at the market a lot, Roger was hardly ever there, but there was also some Indian man working at the stall during the week (who I don’t think could have been Freddie’s father). She saw Freddie at multiple stalls, a girl named Jill also worked at the stall… and J was under the impression that Roger and Freddie hadn’t even started the stall. None of this made a whole lot of sense to me, until somebody pointed out that the original stall owned by Roger and Freddie must have closed in the second half of 1971. (Sources: Queen in Cornwall & Queen: As it Began)

It is confirmed (same sources as above) that Freddie worked at the market until as late as 1974. I think it is therefore entirely possible that J would have seen him working at Alan’s stall, or helping out at other stalls, and the likelihood that Roger would have come to hang out with him on a weekend is fairly high, in my opinion. Later, reading about Freddie and Roger running a stall, J would have had no reason to think that this wasn’t the same stall she had seen them at. And yes, this is of course only a theory.

The gay pride march:

@rushingheadlong, who has recently done a lot of fantastic research about Tim, confirms that there’s no chance (as far as we know) that Tim could have been at the march. Did any of them really go? Is J misremembering entirely? Could it be that one of them or two of them went, and looking back, J remembers it as all of them (minus John, however) because she was used to mostly seeing them all together? Does she remember them from another protest march and got it mixed up with the gay rights march? I can’t say. The march and who exactly went is a big question mark. Even J herself is only “pretty sure” that they were all there, and I have to say, I can’t tell you who was where exactly when I think back to when I was 16. Certainly not when there was a big group of people around. And that was only 20 years ago for me.

Lastly, I’m going to try and use the guide our awesome local historian @emmaandorlando provided on how to analyse new sources. Of course, I’m not a historian (and I’m also partly the source by being the interviewer, so I can perhaps only do this impertectly), but let’s give it a go.

1. Who wrote this document?

‘Written historical records were created by individuals in a specific historical setting for a particular purpose. Until you know who created the document you have read, you cannot know why it was created or what meanings its author intended to impart by creating it’.

In this case, the answer is two-fold because essentially I wrote the interview, in as far as that I asked the questions, I gave it shape and presented it in the form in which it came, but the answers are J’s. I completely understand that this is already a big stumbling block for many, because not only am I presenting her as an anonymous source, but many of you don’t know anything about me. If you follow me on Tumblr, you will know that I have shared more with the internet than is probably wise. But still, I am somebody you know little about, presenting to you a person you know even less about. Whether you trust me or not is entirely down to your own judgement and instinct, and that will be different for everybody.

(I’ve seen it said that I’m plugging my own work through this interview. If that was my plan, I’m afraid it’s failed miserably. I looked, and DoA has gained a whopping 2 or 3 kudos.)

2. Who is the intended audience?

‘The relationship between author and audience is one of the most basic elements of communication and one that will tell you much about the purpose of the document. Think of the difference between the audience for a novel and that for a diary, or for a law and for a secret treaty. Knowing the audience allows you to begin to ask important questions, such as; “Should I believe what I am being told?”’

The intended audience is the Queen fandom on Tumblr and AO3. I have no interest in sharing this anywhere else because I’m not familiar with the other fan communities (Facebook? Instagram?) and wouldn’t know how to go about it. For J, the intended audience was mostly me, an author she likes who was very interested in her memories.

3. Why was this document written?

‘Everything is written for a reason. Understanding the purpose of a historical document is critical to analysing the strategies that the author employs within it. A document intended to convince will employ logic; a document intended to entertain will employ fancy; a document attempting to motivate will employ emotional appeals. In order to find these strategies, you must know what purpose the document was intended to serve.’

I got really, really excited. That is the reason. When J got in touch with me, I had a decision to make. I could ask her all the questions I wanted privately and share her answers only with my "inner circle” of fandom friends, or I could share everything with the fandom spaces where I’ve been very active in the last two years. I wanted to share the excitement and decided to do the latter.

I also wanted to present the interview in a way where it would be an engaging, well-structured read and not simply all of her emails to me dumped here with a quick ‘there you go’. So I tried to wrap it in a beautiful “package”, which is why I asked her for her art, for example.

4. What type of document is this?

‘The form of a document is vital to its purpose. The form or genre in which a document appears is always carefully chosen. Genre contains its own conventions, which fulfil the expectations of author and audience.’

An interview, written by somebody who has never interviewed anyone before.

5. Can I believe this document?

‘To be successful, a document designed to persuade, to recount events, or to motivate people to action must be believable to its audience. For the critical historical reader, it is that very believability that must be examined. Every author has a point of view, and exposing the assumptions of the document is an essential task for the reader.

You must treat all claims sceptically (even while admiring audacity, rhetorical tricks, and clever comparisons). One question you certainly want to ask is, “is this a likely story?” Testing the credibility of a document means looking at it from the other side.’

This is for all of you to decide for yourselves, and that was always the case. Far be it from me to be upset with anyone who straight up doesn’t believe a word I say, doesn’t believe J is real or any other scepticism. I’ll say it again, DO NOT harass anyone for expressing their opinions on this! It is NOT WRONG to discuss a new source! It’s wonderful that people are doing it!

And so, we come to that last question: Is this a likely story?

Personally, I can firmly answer that with: Yes. In my personal opinion, it is. I find J’s story very likely and there is close to nothing that makes me question that these are indeed her real memories. But given the nature of human memory, they are just as imperfect as anybody else’s and do not, and should not, supersede any factual, verified information we already have.

With that, I hope to have provided a bit more clarity and transparency, and leave you - as before - to make up your own minds.

#the interview #my thoughts #others have had their say so here is mine #in detail #long post

52 notes · View notes

purplesurveys · 3 years

Text

1269

Last thing you bought online? Did you like it? OMG OMG so I got Angela an Army Bomb!!!!!! for her birthday!!!! It was HELLLL looking for sealed ones that were already onhand, but fortunately I was able to find one from this really nice seller a few days ago and the shipping was quick as well. I’m just a little worried because the outbox has a little dent on it :( but it was the best onhand offer I could find so I got it before anybody could call dibs. I still hope she likes it! I got her batteries too so that she can try lighting it up as soon as she has it. :D

Could you date someone who didn’t drive (and didn’t show an interest in ever getting their license, either)? I feel like this is such a petty thing to make a big deal about...if they knew how to commute or any other way to get to their destination, I don’t think this should be a problem. It would only be an issue to me if they refused to get a license in a very I-generally-lack-ambition kind of way.

How would you react if your artwork became famous? I don’t have any to show off to begin with. I love appreciating art, but creating it was never a forte of mine.

Would you get your nipples pierced? No, I don’t plan on getting any piercings. How many people know your birthday? Outside of my family, my best friends. I think everyone else relies on Facebook to be reminded, which is fine with me.

Has anyone ever tried to ruin a relationship you were in? No. Quite the contrary, really...I was sometimes informed about red flags taking place, which of course my stubborn ass ignored.

Have you ever watched a whole hour long infomercial? Probably, as a kid. The channel from which I used to watch WWE aired these really long infomercials so I would watch those while waiting for like Raw or whatever show was going on after.

What is your current MySpace song? I never hung out on Myspace. I had an account, but I was too young for it so it wasn’t long before I got bored.

What is your favorite kind of meat to put on your sandwich? Pulled pork or fried chicken.

Which one of your exes do you feel like you have the most chemistry with? I only have one ex.

How do you feel about people who make Facebook profiles for their pets? I find it really cute. But I personally wouldn’t put in as much effort lol.

Have you ever personally known a pair of conjoined twins? Hmmmmmmmm I don’t think so.

What was the most disturbing thing you have ever heard your mother say? She threatened suicide in front of me and my dad in a very calm way when I was around 11, I think? Maybe 12, idk. I haven’t actually thought about that moment in an extremely long time until this question. I’ll move on now and shove the memory at the very very back of my head before I get sad.

Is there something in particular you like to look at photos of? What is it? Aside from members of BTS (lol), interior design inspirations.

Chewy chocolate-chip cookies: like or dislike? Ooh, love. When I bite into a cookie it hassssss to ooze chocolate, otherwise I would be underwhelmed.

If your boyfriend/girlfriend wanted to dress only in the opposite sex’s clothing, would you support that? If not, would you leave them? Support.

Do you think your grandmother is/was beautiful? They both are.

Which of your fields of interest are you a total expert on? Anything that has to do with writing (except poems), I guess? I like being able to give people advice and tips when it comes to that.

When was the last time you got all dolled up? Last July when we had a big PR media launch thingy and I couldn’t afford to look like shit on Zoom.

Do you ever name objects? (i.e. mp3 players, guitars, cars, etc.) Never.

Do you have a criminal record? Not criminal but it’s possibleeeee that I have some kind of record on my license from the time I got stopped by an officer in Alabang, lmao. It was a minor offense from a tiny part of the town so I don’t actually know if they filed it, but it’s possible.

Last person you took a nap with? I don’t really nap with other people. I hate falling asleep in front of others to begin with.

Does seeing your mother cry automatically make you feel sad as well? No.

Do you think someone likes the same person you like? I don’t like anybody.

Do you want your life to stay the way it is right now forever? No, I do not want to stay in a pandemic and not get to maximize my life the way it’s supposed to be enjoyed forever.

Have you ever been to craigslist.com? I’ve never checked it out; idk if we have that here?

What about eBay? I also dunno if they operate here so no, I’ve never bothered.

Have you ever used Nair? Not Nair, but I’ve used Veet before.

Are you medicated? Nope.

Do you shape/fill in your eyebrows? I never do stuff to my eyebrows except shave them.

Have you ever stolen/borrowed clothes from an ex? Several articles of clothing were left behind here, yeah. I never had the chance to give them back because I stupidly thought we were going to get back together eventually. By the time I moved on the timing was already off, so the clothes stayed with me untillll...just a few days ago, actually – when I finally cleaned up my room and got rid of a bunch of knickknacks that accumulated here over the years, including all her shirts and sweaters and stuff.

Could you make a statement about anything political? The 2022 presidential election landscape looks like complete shit and I’m nearly at that point where I want to stop giving a fuck about this country’s future.

Do you think you’ve already met your soulmate? No.

Do you get the feeling something good will happen in your life soon? I think I’m already living in it, haha.

Do you enjoy romantic movies, even when they’re cliche? Sure, but cliché is also hit and miss for me. I love Titanic and Love Actually, but I cannot stand movies like Me Before You and The Notebook. I guess it depends on certain executions, like the acting, screenplay, casting, etc.

Have you been to McDonald’s in the past month? No, not inside. We did drive-thru within the last month, though.

Have you ever slept over at your best friend’s house? Not at Andi’s, but I have at Angela’s.

How often do you go bowling? Extremely rarely. I can’t tell you the last time I went bowling.

Last time you were in an apartment? Like 2007 when I visited my aunt back when she still lived in one. None of my friends have their own apartments.

Have you ever seen a live seahorse? I don’t think so.

Would you like to have your own yacht? I mean I wouldn't say no if you offered it to me for free, but I'm not exactly interested in one. < Same.

Winnie the Pooh or Tigger? Tigger always made me laugh as a kid.

What’s the unhealthiest thing you’ve eaten today? Luncheon meat, I think? I didn’t go overboard with the junk food today.

Has a stranger ever offered to buy you a drink? Hm, not that I can recall.

What is something you’d be happy to receive as a gift, that doesn’t cost a lot? A bag of the salted egg chips that I really like costs like 30 bucks, or roughly 60 US cents.

What kind of music does your significant other/crush like to listen to? I don’t have any irl crushes, can I use a celebrity crush instead? HAHA he’s heavily into jazz and whenever he gets asked for music recos he always gives jazz artists from like the 50s and 60s.

Who did you have your first kiss with? Do you remember what colour his/her eyes were? Gab. Dark brown.

Are there any themes from TV shows that you like to sing along to? The Big Bang Theory and Friends; and then I also liked humming to the themes of Breaking Bad, The Walking Dead, and BoJack Horseman. The Phineas & Ferb theme was also a lot of fun to sing along to.

Do you eat dessert after dinner? No, I never do that. I’m usually already full after dinner, and we don’t always have sweets at home anyway.

Have you ever had too much to drink and felt embarrassed about your behavior the next day? Sure.

When you go out drinking, what do you prefer to drink? Cocktails. I very rarely go for hard drinks/shots, especially if I brought my own car.

What was the last animal that you saw? Dog.

What was the last thing that you said to one of your siblings? I just told my sister I was done using her laptop so she can have it back. My Memories of 2020 DVD turned out to be region-locked so I have to use her laptop every time I want to watch it :(

What is the most expensive thing that you’ve purchased that you paid for: My Map of the Soul photobook cost me around 5k in total.

What is your favorite messaging program? Messenger.

Do you eat fast food more than 5 times a week? Wow no. Aside from being extremely unhealthy, that’s also a LOT of spending??

Have you ever almost drowned? Yes.

Have you ever learned something shocking about someone through Facebook? I mean I’ve had to learn about more than one family death through my Facebook feed, which sucks but is nothing I have control over. Otherwise the most shocking thing I’ve seen is probably classmates from high school having their own kids, but at this point I’m used to it already.

What’s the scariest living animal that you’ve petted? I’m not really afraid of carrying/petting animals especially if there’s a guide or expert nearby, but the most daring one was probably the crocodile I volunteered to hold in Palawan.

Do you remember the first conversation you ever had with the person you currently have feelings for? Not at all.

Do you dread certain days of the week? If yes, what day/s and why? I hate Mondays for obvious reasons lol. I don’t know anyone who is actively cheery about reporting back to work.

If you eat oatmeal, do you have it plain or do you have certain toppings that you like to add to it? I never eat oatmeal. I had that every single day for breakfast from like kindergarten to 4th grade and I vowed never to take a spoonful of it again.

What is the funniest or strangest thing you’ve ever heard somebody say in their sleep? I dunno. I used to keep a log of the things my ex used to say in her sleep and a great deal of them were hilarious, but obviously I deleted that note a long time ago.

Choose one - Butterfinger, Milky Way, Snickers: Butterfinger.

Do you use Mozilla Firefox? Nopes.

Who is your favorite person to hug? Angela and Laurice.

Have you ever had to have a mug shot? Nope.

What was the last thing you carried to your room? Kimi.

When was the last time you had a late night phone call? WELL over a year ago.

#survey #surveys

4 notes · View notes

cetaceans-pls · 3 years

Link

Fandom: Batman - All Media Types Relationships: Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Attempted Kidnapping, Date Night at an Aquarium, Gone Terrifically Wrong, Dom/sub Undertones Series: Part 4 of Third Thursdays

A plainclothes mission at the Gotham Aquarium quickly goes off the rails when Jason and Bruce find themselves on the wrong end of a kidnapping attempt. A billion-dollar target out of the Batsuit, Bruce gets taken.

Jason comes fetch.

Happy late Lunar New Year + Valentine’s! Why do I keep forgetting to post things to my tumblr! Life’s full of mysteries!

Anyways, please enjoy the weird result of me thinking too much about aquariums and helmets that look like jackals, and have a good week 🙏

Fic also available below the cut:

Jason studiously doesn’t mess with his cuffs, tug on his necktie, or pull off his sunglasses. He hates being forced to manifest in a suit and tie; it’s a misery every single time he has to. However, knee-deep in the bowels of a pandemic that just won’t freakin’ quit, needs must. Sometimes a man’s got to cosplay as a high-tier bodyguard to fit in a date night on a Thursday, so sometimes a man will.

He fiddles with his earpiece, expression serious even though he’s really just trying to get the volume up on his audiobook. It adds to the aura of stern, scary bodyguard man, and it means that the wobbly-lipped, handsy director cuts short his long, long thank you speech to Bruce and waves them inside for their all-access tour of the Gotham Aquarium after dark. It’s a performance he and Bruce have repeated for most of a year now, and it’s the main avenue for Jason to work through his massive collection of audiobooks. Once a month or so Billionaire Fuckboy Bruce Wayne will get it into his head to book a library or a park or a zoo or a planetarium all to himself for fuck knows what, and he’ll be good and won’t break any social distancing rules or any furniture because it’s just him and his bodyguard staying through the night. Come morning the establishment will find themselves the recipients of a donation generous enough to keep their heads above water, while Brucie floats away on a cloud of expensive scotch to find his next flex.

Bruce has more money to his name than anybody ever, ever should, and these days he uses it to buy literal breathing space for much of Gotham’s public facilities struggling to stay afloat.

This is their first visit to the aquarium, because the social media intern-turned-manager here had managed to keep finances fiercely healthy by selling videos of aquarium creatures with personalised messages. Dick himself had commissioned a 30-second video of an aquarium worker whispering ‘wiggle wiggle wiggle’ into a microphone while the camera zoomed in and out from the moon jelly exhibition, and the number of Gothamites keeping their spirits up exclusively thanks to a video of a gently floating manatee quietly murmuring “You’re doing your best” is alarming.

That’s why it’s taken them a while to work their way here, but Jason has to admit he’s looking forward to a relaxing night walking around in mood lighting with B, heckling the occasional fish. Their last date night keeping Gotham’s ‘non-essential’ attractions open had been at the rec centre in the Narrows that’s been shut for months. Romance was thin on the ground there, because mid-date the Bat had taken over Bruce and decided that they owed it to the people of the city to make a few simple adjustments to improve water quality in the swimming pools.

Elbow-deep in an ancient pump and filtration system, Jason’s hand had gotten tangled in something while pulling out the filters. It had turned out to be a tangled, sopping wet mass of human hair the size of a cat, and for the first time in a while, he had wished he was dead and actually kind of meant it.

Tonight, though, promises to be smoother sailing. The aquarium’s not in dire disrepair, the staff have been instructed to keep out of their way and respect their privacy, and he has burritos and two bottles of mini-Merlot tucked in holsters that would hold guns on a lesser man. It’s perfect prep for a relaxing supper in front of the open water tank.

The director leads them in through the main entrance, still talking Bruce’s ear off while he gestures nervously around them and swipes at his thinning white hair. Jason follows after them, hand to his ear as he says a bunch of menacing gibberish into empty air. He and Bruce are incredibly dull on nights out like this, and have by Alfred’s decree been cut-off from work comms to decrease the chance of anyone on duty being rude jealous assholes. No one’s listening right now, but growling ‘Code Esper’ into his jacket has the director sweating even harder, which is the intended outcome. With a messily-babbled “Goodnight and goodbye Mister Wayne!” and an unwelcome pat on the small of Bruce’s back, the man disappears the way they came, heavy glass doors swinging shut.

Finally, the night’s starting to look better.

First thing Jason does is rip off his stupid sunglasses. It’s certainly an Expected Look for a bodyguard, but it’s 11 PM on a weekday night and on top of it being a hideous accessory, it sets his teeth on edge to have his vision obscured even while off-duty.

He also whips his tie off, because there’s a time and a place for choking and it’s not here, not yet. Jason runs his hand through his hair to break through the gel and scowls to see the black residue on his fingers. Makeup on his face, makeup in his hair, makeup pasted on to hide him in plain sight when other people get to go to Wendy’s barefaced and hand-in-hand as they pleased, urgh.

The world’s extra rough on the legally dead, even if he’s immediately mollified by Bruce sidling up to him, close enough that their hips bump and their fingers tangle.

Christ, rich man shampoo smells a whole lot different to the stuff you can get by the half-gallon in your local bodega. Jason is tempted to bite Bruce, find the closest cleaning cupboard and get up to some defilement, but it's a big aquarium and it’s a long night, so there's no rush.

The CCTV cameras aren't live, no red lights blinking, and it's supremely helpful how much privacy gets afforded to a billionaire and his potential debauchery in return for a big cheque. Jason slings an arm around Bruce's waist, because these are hard rights hard earned, and just grins at Bruce's long-suffering sigh. "Shut the hell up, this is crazy romantic. What do you want to see first?"

The answer is, inexplicably, the tropical freshwater exhibit, where they spend a solid half hour with an arapaima swimming up-down up-down a false river designed to look like the Amazon, their tiny bottles of wine in hand. Jason loses his mind first, pacing along the tank to follow the path of a fish longer than he or Bruce are tall, but within a minute Bruce is in lockstep with him as they stalk an innocent fish while they talk about not very much at all.

Bruce looks at the murkiness of the water and the cinematic dead leaves floating all over, expression gravely concerned. “They could do with a bigger aquarium.”

Jason groans, thumb absently picking at the label on his bottle. “Stop communing with the fish. It’s only barely cute when Damian gets really intense about animals, and the charm’s completely gone once you crack 6 feet.”

In his head, though, he can’t help but feel that yeah, more space for the arapaima would be nice, but hey.

Jason’s singularly terrible with small, tight spaces, so.

“C’mon,” he says, nudging Bruce so hard it’s mostly a shove. “Time to find out what sharks look like after-hours.”

“What’s normal operating hours for a shark?” Bruce asks just to be a pain, easily going where lead.

“Keep at it and I’ll shove you in the tank so you can find out.”

There’s a loose ceiling tile near the information counter in the main hall, right by the entrance leading to the enormous, floor-to-ceiling open water exhibit. There's a loose ceiling tile there because Jason had cased this joint a week ago, the way he checks out every place Bruce decides to take them to on nights like this, and that’s where he had decided to hide his kit. While Bruce walks from end to end of the tank, committing to pointless memory the names and traits of a hundred fish, Jason climbs up and into the ceiling to grab their party pack.

Tepid beer, pretzels, spicy chicken-flavoured chips, wet wipes. A heavy blanket, a bottle of hand sanitiser, Alfred’s cold-brew tea that could grow chest hairs on a rock. He’s even got a bottle of antacids to cover burrito-related maladies shoved into a first-aid kit so complete it could maybe, just maybe, regrow a limb. He dusts the heavy blanket off before he spreads it across the floor, where they have the best view of the most unbearably beautiful manta ray that could possibly exist.

Jason maybe preens a little when Bruce comes back from the edge and greets the spread with a bit of a smile. “Hurry it up already, dinner’s gonna get cold.”

The burritos get pulled out of their holsters as Bruce settles on the ground in the exacting, ginger manner of a man of a certain age whose knees have unfortunately passed their prime. They sit and eat while inoffensive jazz plays quietly over the speakers and fish go up and down and all around.

Ah, beats the ball of human hair by a country mile.

“This is nice,” Bruce says quietly, shrugging out of his coat and loosening his tie. There’s a sharp, bright gloss to him when he’s in Bruce-Wayne-Public-Performance mode, but Jason likes dishevelled, run-down Bruce who’s a little absent-minded and a lot human the best.

He likes this Bruce he’s earned.

“One of our better dates.” Jason holds up his bottle of beer expectantly, and feels profoundly smug when Bruce raises his to knock in a gentle toast. “Fuck, I can’t remember the last time I came to the aquarium. Must have been before.”

“Same,” Bruce says, and Jason wonders for a brief, harrowing moment if this holds true for the zoo and the planetarium and the rec centre and the public library and the-

He doesn’t get the time to linger on the thought and ponder, check to see if this is Bruce on a mission to form new memories in places that had held some from before a death in the family, because they’re interrupted by the sudden scream of a fire alarm.

They both tense where they’re sat, at the ready to fly into a fight in a suit and tie, but wherever the emergency might be it isn’t in here with them. Jason looks around, tries to catch smoke on the air, but it’s all stillness and the scent of disinfectant spray. Weird, that there’s no quiet stampede of night-time crew rushing to rescue their watery wards, no security guard sent on a quick mission by the director to save their cash cow.

Jason’s got a bad feeling about this. He gets to his feet and hauls the bag containing the first aid kit and other supplies up on his shoulder. “What the hell is going on?”

Bruce is fiddling with his phone, working through the security system of the aquarium. “All the cameras are down, so we have no visuals. The fire alarm in the deep sea exhibit was tripped manually, not by the smoke detector.” He frowns. “Carbon monoxide monitors didn’t register anything, and the sprinklers haven’t been triggered either. Could just be a fluke.”

Bruce doesn’t sound convinced, and neither is Jason. Assuming harmlessness is a great way to incur harm, and that’s something you learn damn early after starting up a vigilante lifestyle. Jason can only assume foul play of some sort, likely relating to Bruce, but there’s no way that an aquarium as big as this wouldn’t have night staff; civilians might be in danger.

Fuck, give him gross filters jammed with 27 years worth of dead skin cells over this. “I’ll go and check on the deep sea room.” If there’s no trouble, Jason’s mighty tempted to create some. “You should head back to the entrance, meet up with the sweaty director dude and evacuate. I’ll catch up with you after everything’s handled.”

Bruce looks pretty irritated to be asked to meekly make his way to safety, but pulling a Bat move right now would be incredibly bad optics. They both know his hands are tied, and Bruce sighs and climbs to his feet. “If I don’t get an update from you in fifteen minutes, I’m coming back in,” he tells Jason, crumpling the foil of his burrito and fastidiously stowing it away in the pocket of his slacks. “Comms check.”

They both tap at their discreet earpieces, and both wince at the screech of feedback when the comms activate and pair.

“Fifteen’s plenty.” Jason hikes his kit bag further up his shoulder, and pretends he’s not embarrassed when he tries to activate night vision on a mask he isn’t wearing.

“Jason,” Bruce says, calm, commanding, and quiet.

“What?”

“Be good.” It’s said like an order no one could want to refuse, but before Jason can get over his shivery shock and snap something back, Bruce is waving and disappearing out the hall, pulling on the skin of a simpler man.

Jason rubs at his neck and misses his helmet more keenly. This unbearable transparency of being; almost thirty whole ass years old and it’s astonishing how underneath it all he can still be so hideously eager to please.

“Please let there be a fucking crime,” Jason murmurs to himself, and disappears.

There is a crime, but it’s not even a good one.

Jason breaks into the deep sea exhibit through a utility hatch designed to access the cooling pipes for an elaborate sea sponge display. He’s quiet and mostly invisible when he surfaces in the room, and after a minute of letting his eyes adjust to the curated darkness, it’s easy to spot a man in a balaclava with a gun trained on the only door leading to the room.

He also quickly spots the terrified hostages huddled together under a display of what looked like demon jellyfish made of LEDs and blood. It’s easy to see the shape of the crime now; set off an alarm in an isolated area with only one known entrance and exit, and subdue people as they arrive. As long as the alarm kept blaring, staff would keep on coming, and by not triggering any of the smoke or carbon monoxide detectors the fire department remain clueless.

Excellent plan, great for catching anyone who hadn’t, oh, spent a solid 12 hours going through the schematics of the entire building out of an obsessive desire to create a space a Bat could relax in. Jason counts 11 hostages and just the one gunman, and tries not to groan.

There’s not much money to be had by robbing an aquarium, and judging by the degree of weaponry this isn’t some anti-aquarium demonstration organised via Facebook groups, powered by pandemic blues. No one’s liberating a shark or freeing Willy or anything nearly as fun. Ringing the alarm’s just an excellent, excellent way to control the movement of people.

There are only two ways to go; towards the fire or towards safety.

If you’re looking to net yourself a big fish, two small teams with a couple of free-roaming agents would be enough to ensure a catch rate of almost 100%. Jason highly, highly doubts that this whole song-and-dance was designed to abduct a frazzled researcher wearing a fuzzy sweater in radiant orange, or a stern-faced woman in a janitor’s uniform who looks alarmingly close to hulking out and breaking out of her bonds. He highly, highly suspects that there’s a reason outside of billionaire-envy to explain why the director of the aquarium had looked so dodgy and sweaty when he had welcomed Bruce.

Jason’s proven unfortunately right when the radio at the gunman’s hip crackles to life.

“We got Wayne.”

Of course they did. Bruce could hardly go to town and take down a bunch of armed kidnappers, especially if there are civilians near him. Jason tugs out his phone to update the Cave while the gunman grunts his reply and moves to turn off the fire alarm. Alfred asks Jason if he needs reinforcements as the guy tells the huddled terrified masses that he’ll kill them if they move, and Jason texts back a ‘no thank you’ as the goon strides out of the room, locking the door behind him.

The group of tied-up people burst into panicked chatter as soon as the gunman’s gone, and Jason uses the noise as cover for unzipping his bag and getting changed. Unlike Bruce, pulling on his second skin takes a lot longer, but once Jason tugs his red hood up and shucks off the bodyguard suit to stretch in his skin-tight armour, he feels twice the man and thrice as happy.

There’s no gun in the bag, there’s no gun anywhere near him, because it’s a self-imposed rule Jason has recently given himself for date nights. Bruce has been known to use anything from a screwdriver taped to a plank of wood to his literal bare stupid hands to pry things open in a whole-hearted effort to avoid having a crowbar anywhere in the Manor or in his life, and Jason wanted to repay like with like.

Doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck to not have his go-to weapon, though. He sighs as he straps a taser strong enough to knock God unconscious to his thigh, and sighs again when he pulls out a sickle in its leather holster. Alfred’s gotten terribly creative with what he packs for their nights out, but who is Jason to stand in the way of a man’s artistic expression?

Fully kitted-out, hood drawn and mask glowing, Jason shoves the bag back down the hatch and vaults over the top of the aquarium he was crouched behind, landing to the wild, panicked screams of the assembled staff.

His flashy entrance is totally unnecessary, and he knows the lights on the new helmet make him look less like a human and more like an abstract cryptid with a muzzle lined in blood. It’s spectacularly dramatic, but it releases some of the tension that’s been building in his body ever since he and Bruce split up.

He holds his hands up, forgetting the sickle in his fist, and the screaming hits a crescendo any opera would be proud of. It’s a little fucking hysterical, but Jason’s on the clock right now so he can’t savour this situation as much as he would have liked. “Calm the hell down, it’s just Red Hood here to save the day.”

The screaming eases up, though a gentleman in thick glasses and a threadbare labcoat does give a good ol’ screech when he comes closer towards them with the sickle set free. Jason ignores him and crouches down to cut the janitor lady free first. She spares a second to presumably calculate the chances of her beating him in a fight before she comes to a conclusion, shrugs, and turns to immediately start picking at the knots of the person next to her. Within a couple of minutes everyone is free, and everyone is scrambling to grab at things to arm themselves with. Jason eyes the selection of brandished pens and water bottles with mild delight, and nods respectfully at his lady and her bottle of bleach off the janitor’s cart because real recognises real. He does a quick scan to make sure there are no serious injuries or emergencies, and gets to his feet.

“All right, so this is apparently an attempt to kidnap Wayne, and you guys are just collateral. They’ll be clustered towards the main entrance, so get out through the most secret employees-only door you know. Stay together and stay quiet, and it’s gonna be fine. The Bat knows what’s going on, if that makes anyone feel better.” He considers how much he does and doesn’t want to share with the people assembled, before he decides that fuck it, being a shit-stirrer is pretty fun. “Pretty sure your big boss is in on it too, so if there’s an exit that guy won’t be familiar with, use that one.”

There’s a sharp intake of communal breath, before a young woman wearing waders and rubber gloves up to her shoulders raises her hand. “Do you mean Dr. Stevens?”

Jason shrugs. “Maybe?”

“Uhm. Short, all white hair, super skinny. Looks like someone you wouldn’t trust in a lab alone with a stressed-out postdoc of any gender because he gives off the vibe of a creep with varied tastes?”

Jason frowns at what the girl is saying, and the grim looks of much of the rest of the room. “Sounds about right.”

At least three separate people hiss motherfucker under their breaths, and three more say some version of I fucking knew it. The aquarium might not have had any severe financial issues, but oh, they’ve found a mess worse than too much human hair, looks like. Jason’s keener than ever to murder this Stevens dude, but he really, really doesn’t have the time to chair a HR complaint for the aquarium right now.

“Look, whatever goes down tonight I’m gonna give a Red Hood guarantee that the guy won’t be your boss anymore. Hell, Wayne’s going to be so grateful when I rescue him that I could get him to elect a different person to be in charge of this place even if this guy isn’t in cahoots with the kidnappers. So consider it handled, okay?” He straps the sickle back at his waist. “Now get the hell out of here. I’m counting on you.”

He nods at his bleach-wielding lady, and she nods back like the truest sort of comrade-in-arms.

Reassured, Jason kicks the door down and moves the fastest anyone’s ever moved in an aquarium, a red-faced wraith on a hunt.

Bruce courteously gasps when a hood is thrown over his head and secured, even though he had guessed the shape of the night’s events the moment he had reached the lobby and seen the half-wobbly half-cocky look to the director’s face from across the way. “What are you doing?” he demands in a shaky voice as he puts up token resistance, enough to look panicked but not enough to tempt someone into knocking him out and hauling him away.

Far too many questions to answer as to why a loafer coasting on generational wealth has more muscle mass than your average highly-trained mercenary, after all.

He counts his steps and tries to carve little signs into the pile of the carpeting with the toe of his loafers as he’s marched off, though he doubts Jason will need this trail of breadcrumbs to find him. “Let me go!” he yells, navigating the blueprint of the aquarium in his mind. Everyone ignores him, and his captors are none-too-gentle as they force him up some metal stairs.

Forty steps from the entrance to the lobby, a right, thirty steps, a left, a quiet beep, and now stairs. My, my, my, seems like they’ll be paying Dr. Stevens’ sea slug lab a visit. It’s a good location for a quick regroup, tucked away and locked behind several layers of security. Bruce imagines they won’t be here long; a good kidnapper doesn’t keep their victim where they found them, after all.

He’s roughly shoved into a chair and tied to it, rendered immobile by cuffs on his hands and rope round his legs, but it’s a cheap office chair and there’s give in his binds. He’s immobile, but only theoretically. Bruce keeps tugging at his bonds and cursing under his breath while he hopes that Stevens doesn’t bother to ask where his bodyguard has gone, has thought the worst of Jason and assumed that he had just run off.

It would make a rescue attempt much easier, though Bruce isn’t particularly worried. It’s a kidnapping force of, oh, five? Maybe six? Carpet muffles footsteps more than wooden floorboards do, but Bruce is pretty confident of his estimate. Six at most, with at least another team responsible for the fire alarm, so a worst-case scenario of twelve. As long as his measure of their competence isn’t too wrong, Bruce doesn’t anticipate anything worse than a couple of through-and-throughs if he has to fight through this himself.

He knows he won’t have to, though.

The people around him fall silent when their radio comes to life, a panicked man shouting “There’s someone here with us! It’s the Red-” before there’s a loud bang! followed by a terrifying silence.

“Ten,” someone yells tersely back. “Come in, Ten. What the hell was that?”

There’s a general rumble of unease in the room now, and Bruce is allowed a vicious, nasty smile because no one can see him under here. At least ten people are in on this, and about half of those are in here with him while the rest are out there with Jason. He considers making an effort to tap out in Morse how many goons are with him right now, since Jason has half a dozen ways to track his location with all the kit Bruce has on him, but decides against it.

Let the boy have some fun.

“Let me go, I’ll do anything you want,” he calls out half-heartedly, but no one gives a shit because there’s another panicked broadcast by another panicked man that cuts off abruptly. The tension in the room is palpable, feels more solid than the sack on his head, and it goes frizzy with electricity when the Red Hood’s terrifying static growl comes through on the radio.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” Jason’s mangled voice croons through the line. Bruce feels goosebumps ripple up his arms, and feels oddly, hideously proud. “Two down, a few more to go. Hope you’ll put up more of a fight.”

Then there’s a sharp crack, and the line goes quiet.

“You promised me this would be just in-and-out! You said that Wayne would be out of here as soon as you got him! You didn’t say anything about a vigilante running me down in my own building!”

Ah, that’s Dr. Stevens losing his nerve. His tirade is cut short by a hard slap, it sounds like, and the voice Bruce thinks of as One is the only thing to be heard above the quiet whimpers of a panicking doctor.

“You agreed to do anything that needed to be done as long as you got a cut of the pay,” One says coldly. “Too late to get cold feet now, doctor.” There’s the sound of the walkie-talkie being turned back on. “Transport is incoming. Disappear and make your way out, regroup in safe house Gamma. It’s just one man against all of us, so don't lose your heads and we’ll get our money.”

Nobody responds verbally, probably because radio silence is golden when trying to beat a hasty retreat. Bruce feels his ropes come loose, and he’s forced to his feet as the kidnappers discuss their plans with more discretion than Stevens shooting off his mouth. He catches bits and pieces of conversation, mentions of the docks and allusions to the highest bidder, but everything goes instantly, deathly silent when the radio comes to life again.

“Three down, four down, five down. Be seeing you real soon, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce doesn’t need to pretend to take in a shaky breath.

God, code names are an absolute necessity when carrying out this sort of dirty work, but Jason wants to have a sit-down with whoever decided to go with numbers for this little shindig. First man taken out and he already knows this goes at least ten fuckers deep. The leader’s figured out that yelling the number of men he has in his employ down a radio the enemy has access to isn’t a great idea, but somebody with an army of a hundred wouldn’t have been so concerned with the downing of one, so Jason’s pretty much got confirmation that this is a small-scale, quick-in quick-out kind of affair.

They’ll be looking to move Bruce, with that whole ‘transport incoming’ message. Jason’s got Bruce’s location pulled up, B’s comms actively recording vitals and transmitting its location, and from the lack of movement it’s easy to tell they’re planning a getaway through the front entrance.

He’s also happy to note that Bruce’s resting heart rate’s still at an insulting 45 beats a minute mid-kidnapping, though boy it sure did spike every time Red Hood sent out a message. Good to know, real fucking good to know.

After taking out the fifth guy, Jason doesn’t run into anybody else on his way to the main entrance, and he doesn’t particularly care if some small fry are getting away. The priority is getting Bruce to safety, and then doing clean-up on the kidnappers and Dr. Creepazoid. A showdown within the lobby is endlessly preferable to a showdown outside, if only because it’s easier to keep track of people if they can’t run away from you. Double-checking that Bruce actually is being slowly moved towards the main entrance from wherever they stashed him, Jason happily beats them to the front doors and barricades them in with him, stacking tables and chairs and cupboards into a heavy, impenetrable mess.

Sure, whoever’s coming to pick them up might be armed enough to break on through, but Jason has intimate knowledge of what mercenaries are like. Thoughts like ‘I sure as hell am not paid enough to deal with this’ are common and powerful enough to dissuade most mercs in this situation. It’s what you get when you team-build on money instead of insane, intangible things like love and loyalty, losers.

Jason looks around at the arena of his making and makes a quick decision to climb up a display case stuffed full of the toys kids can expect to see in the gift shop. It’s sturdy enough, though the thin metal frames groan a little under his weight. Jason sheathes his sickle and powers down the lights lining his helmet, lies in wait like a hungry dog in the dark as he calms his breathing and imagines what it will be like to beat the living daylights out of people who think it’s cool to disrupt a well-earned date on a much-anticipated night.

It’s another ten minutes or so before he picks up the sound of heavy feet trying to be unnaturally quiet on cheap carpet. They haven’t rounded the corner and they’re still out of sight, but with his helmet enhancing his hearing Jason’s already getting plenty of information. At least five people with heavy, careful steps, likely the assailants heavy in their armour and weapons. One set of footsteps shuffling along the carpet, all hesitance and distaste, and that’s got to be Stevens.

And in the middle of it all, walking in a weird off-kilter rhythm like a man who either has a stone in his shoe or is determined to make as distinctive a walk as possible, is Bruce. Up and walking of his own power, which is excellent. Jason doesn’t need to go into this fight concerned with keeping an unconscious Bruce safe. This is going to be an activity with full participation by all parties, hell yeah.

Speaking of participation.

Jason taps the side of his helmet and connects to Bruce’s comms. “B,” he says, low and sweet just to unsettle Bruce. “I’ve got altitude on a cabinet on the eastern wall of the entrance. I’ll see you right as you come in, and I’m gonna attack before anybody knows what’s happening. Get behind the reception desk if you can. Do you copy?”

As per the training handbook for situations when you’re too deep behind enemy lines to do much of anything, Bruce registers his acknowledgment with three sharp clicks, teeth clacking against each other in rapid succession.

Jason arches his back, loosening his muscles before he curls up again, ready to literally pounce. The footsteps are drawing closer, and they have just a few seconds before shit is going to hit the fan. He unhooks his sickle, and grins at absolutely nothing.

“Oh, and B?”

A click.

“Be good for me.”

Bruce’s heart rate spikes just as the group of men round the corner, and Jason’s laughing like a loon as the lines of his helmet burn back to life and he descends on the kidnappers, a hound out of hell.

There’s something primordially terrifying about seeing a fury in red and black descend on you from the sky. Bruce knows what the plan is, knows exactly how menacing a figure Jason can cut when he wants to be dramatic, but even then he couldn’t stop instinctively reaching for the handy, wicked little pocket knife in his pocket the second he saw the lines of the helmet glowing through the dark of his hood.

In the panicked yelling as Jason leaps into the fray and starts systematically annihilating a group of heavily armed men who can’t fight back without shooting each other, it’s easy for Bruce to break free of his captors and rip the sack off his head. He ducks under the flailing butt of a gun and takes a moment to shatter someone’s kneecap with the metal cuffs on his wrists before he’s rolling out of the way, belly-crawling towards the sturdy reception desk.

Dr. Stevens is yelling and trying to run away but Jason keeps plucking at him and pulling him back into the brawl with a vengeance Bruce grudgingly admires. By the time Bruce has climbed up on a chair to get a better view of the fight while staying mostly out of sight, half the men are already a groaning pile on the ground.

By the time Bruce has freed himself from his handcuffs, Stevens is an unconscious mess on the ground, and by the time Bruce has texted home and requested that Alfred call the police, it’s just Jason and One circling each other, both their faces hidden, blades in their hands.

Bruce notes with some interest that where Jason had kept his sickle sheathed and mostly used the blunt outer curve to knock people unconscious, the wicked edge is now out and gleaming as One strikes at him with a nasty Bowie knife. The hand-to-hand is quick and brutal, both of them trading hits and jabs. Whatever armour One is wearing is holding up well against Jason’s sickle, which is fair enough.

Bruce would need to get closer to know for sure, but it certainly looks like the sickle Alfred uses to carefully weed the tulip bed. No point in sharpening a gardening tool to be sharp enough to bite into flesh.

Less pleasing is how One’s knife doesn’t seem to struggle much with cutting through Jason’s costume. The new mesh Bruce had designed in response to Jason’s irritated demand for a slimmer, sleeker costume was supposed to be able to withstand most edged weapons, but even in the dark it’s easy to see where the black fabric has been cut and Jason’s skin and blood are visible instead. Trust Jason to do quality testing in the absolute worst times.

Back to the drawing board it is. One is taunting Jason, allowing Jason to swipe ineffectively at him before laughing and slashing back. “Is this all you got?” the man crows from behind his balaclava, radiating smugness. “I don’t know what I was worried about. I’ll have you and Wayne brought in for sale, and I wonder who the highest bidder will be.” Another quick jab, and Jason’s forearm is marked. “Wonder which of you Mister J would want more as a playmate.”

At that, Jason goes stock still. It’s so sudden that it clearly startles One, who retreats a little, knife up and ready to go. Bruce finds himself with his jaw clenched shut, teeth grinding so hard it’s like lockjaw in three seconds or less.

Of all the things some no-name budget kidnapper could have said. Bruce taps on his comms, opens a line to Jason, because if One keeps push push pushing like this, he won’t live to see morning.

One might not live to see the next minute, if Jason’s slow, terrifying stride towards him means anything.

“Jason,” Bruce whispers into the comm. “Jason, enough. You’ve done enough. Stop playing with your food, come here and let me check on you.”

Across the lobby, Jason once against draws to a halt, but it doesn’t stick. One figures out that actually, the Red Hood had been getting sliced up into ribbons more as a weird exploratory experience than because of a lack of skill, and he figures it out by way of Jason coming right up to him in the blink of an eye, disarming him by snapping the wrist of the hand holding the knife, and grabbing him by the throat with a grip tight enough to kill.

One is currently absolutely sure that he’s about to die.

So is Bruce, who knows that he cannot reach the man faster than Jason can snap a neck. “Jason!” he damn near bellows down the comms, damn near shouts across the room. “Enough. You come when called. You come when I call.”

And like a miracle, like the time Jason came back all those years ago and all the times Jason’s come for him ever since, it works.

One is dropped to the ground, unconscious and foaming at the mouth, and Jason’s barrelling towards Bruce.

As Bruce is swept up and back into the depths of the evacuated aquarium, he finds himself thinking we’ve had worse.

Jason isn’t sure why his first instinct after being called off of the murder of a singularly horrible man is to haul Bruce up and run to the deep sea exhibit, but he’s willing to admit to himself that calm only comes back to him when they’re finally buried in the quiet dark of a room of things softly bioluminescing.

He’s got no love lost for the Joker, has fought the bastard enough times since that it’s not residual fear that snapped him. Here, far far away from the wreckage, it’s easy to identify that his trigger had been superimposing the many, many horrors Jason has personally died from and lived through onto Bruce. Bruce who in many ways has the worst luck of any person he’s ever known, Bruce who would sooner rip into himself than be put into a Pit, Bruce who has to be careful with his burritos and his knees, put under the loveless purview of a madman with a crowbar.

Being protective of other people is generally a good thing, but trust Jason to wield care like a bludgeon. He scoffs, and drops Bruce unceremoniously next to the trapdoor. He could take off his helmet, no one and nothing could see him here, but the mortification of being seen out of control makes it really fucking unappealing.

Bruce sits up and looks around, acting like not a single weird thing has happened this entire night. “I’ve never seen the deep sea exhibition,” he says, like he’s having a normal conversation, like this is just the middle of a perfectly pleasant, perfectly average date.

“I saw a poster, they only built this section after I died,” Jason says dully.

Bruce hums like that’s information enough. “I’m glad we’re getting to see it then.” He tugs at Jason’s leg. “Sit.”

And Jason does, his legs folding underneath him before a thought’s even fully formed. He remembers when he was redesigning the helmet and was struggling to pick a look that was both menacing and just plain cool. The one he settled on had been one of Damian’s designs, all geometric shapes and the suggestion of creature. It had reminded him of a jackal, of Anubis, like death come in the shape of this thing with a muzzle and teeth.

Right now it feels like he’d chosen the look of a dog, a dog with the brand of bat to describe its master, and he feels like a mangy, wild thing desperate for Bruce, just for Bruce.

He takes back every mean, unkind thought he’s ever had about the date at the rec centre. Let him bury his hands into a dozen masses of gelatinous hair than force him to think about things like this, think about himself like this.

Jason’s tight with tension, but Bruce doesn’t push him to talk. Bruce doesn’t force him to do anything, just has a hand wrapped around the nape of Jason’s neck, thumb rubbing at the seam where metal helmet meets skin. They sit in this weird, tingly silence even as Alfred’s pings requesting an update become more urgent, and Jason realises that they’ll stay in this weird, tingly silence until he makes a move.

“What the fuck are we doing, B?” he says at last.

“Whatever we want to, Jaybird.” Bruce is ignoring a lot of his own damn rules about names in uniform, but he still seems remarkably unconcerned about everything. “How are you?”

Jason groans, giving up and tipping over so that he’s sprawled uncomfortably over Bruce’s legs. “Feel fucking awful. I can’t believe I’m the kind of guy that loses his shit just because some asshole said something vaguely threatening to you.”

“I think it shows good character.” Bruce rests a hand on Jason’s shoulder, the other still carefully cradling his head. “But I’m not a good judge of character, so take that with a grain of salt.”

Jason barks out a laugh at that. “You sure fucking are. I knew that director guy was skeezy the moment I saw him. Can’t believe he didn’t set off alarm bells in your head within the first thirty seconds, B.”

Bruce just shrugs. “If I reacted badly to everyone that I thought I couldn’t trust, I’d rarely get to stop.”

Well, the man’s got a point. “Still. He’s apparently shitty with staff too, so at least we’re solving a bunch of problems all at once with this night out.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you, Jason.”

Jason forces himself to sit back up, a little alarmed by the little note that’s appeared informing him that the police are about five minutes away from the aquarium. “That’s a damn lie and you know it.” Even the strongest of the kidnappers wasn’t anything much above average for a night out on patrol, and Bruce is nothing if not ruthlessly efficient when the fight’s in a public place.

Bruce gets to his feet, careful and ginger, and Jason can’t help but just stare at his stupid wholly-human knees. Bruce doesn’t mention it, doesn’t draw attention that renowned vigilante and crime boss the Red Hood has his head not a foot away from his legs, and just holds his hand out to him instead. “How about, I wouldn’t have enjoyed this night without you?”

Jason takes a moment to pretend to think about it, but he knows his answer. “I”ll take it.” Like he takes Bruce’s hand, like he takes things from Bruce because it’s what he wants and it’s what he’s earned. “I should get out of here before the pigs show up.”

“See you back at the Manor?” It’s only half past midnight, which means this date’s ended a good three hours earlier than their usual. Bruce looks like he’s asking only as an afterthought; of course Jason’s coming home with him.

Jason struggles to think of anything more pleasant than sitting out on their balcony in the dark with a hot drink in hand, electric blanket doggedly trying to keep them warm even as the outlet threatens to explode from the snow that’s supposed to start at 2 AM.

He also struggles to imagine how he’s going to be good company when his head is in as much disarray as it currently is. How open is Bruce to some heavy petting outdoors if Jason can’t convince himself to take his helmet off the whole time? How likely is the night to devolve into them sitting awkwardly in frigid silence until someone snaps and starts an argument just for the sake of a change of pace?

“Yeah, I’m thinking that’s not a good idea.”

That gets Bruce to stop shabbying himself up to look like an actual kidnapping victim, cuffs already locked again. “I see. Why is that?”

Jason shrugs, and is glad that his face is still unseen even if it feels like his whole damn body is letting B in on the secret. “It’s a 'feeling kinda feral' kinda day. I’m going to go blow off some steam.” Run a couple of laps around the lake in the memorial park, and if he gets close enough to hypothermia he might start forgetting the quiet kshkshh sound of delicate neck bones grinding under his hand.

He feels violence wiggling just an inch under his skin, and that’s another self-imposed rule for nights out with Bruce. Any time his grip on himself feels even a pound looser than it should be, Jason’s going to take time for himself because this deep into this relationship he’s surer than ever that there’s a hell of a lot of brutality he could let loose and Bruce would just take it and take it and take it.

Jason will not bite his mas-

He’s forcibly taken out of his thoughts by a sharp rap against his helmet. He strikes out instinctively, and catches Bruce's hand in a tight grip. “What the hell, B.”

“You weren’t responding,” Bruce tells him matter-of-factly, not pulling away. “I said, you can go and run yourself ragged. After that, you come home.”

“And why should I listen to you?”

Bruce smiles a proper smile, sharp and smug and sweet, and leans over to press a kiss to Jason’s hand wrapped around his own. “Because, Jason, I listened when you told me to keep away and keep safe. Isn’t it your turn now?”

It’s all about that give-and-take baby, and Jason just might fucking howl.

He releases Bruce in a flash, and his helmet’s unlatched and crashing to the ground not a second later. Bruce could have aikido’d him over his shoulder and flung him clear across the room because Jason’s not the most coordinated he’s ever been right now, but instead the man just widens his stance and wholly and easily accepts Jason throwing himself at Bruce face first.

It’s a maddening kiss, because Jason’s just shoved Bruce against the blood jelly tank so that he can get into position for a good grind when an alert goes off from his helmet, and Alfred’s too-loud voice calls out to tell them that “The police officers have arrived, sirs.”

Jason groans and pulls back slightly, trying to catch his breath as he digs his teeth into Bruce’s shoulder despite the three layers of expensive fabric in the way. “I hate everything,” he says, half-heartedly groping at Bruce’s chest.

“Hate it in your free time,” Bruce mutters into his hair, before choking a little because he caught a mouthful of semi-permanent dye. “On our nights, be good.”

Relationships are a contract, and Jason’s willingly agreed to these terms for, ah, close to a year now. It doesn’t mean he won’t grumble, or mess up Bruce’s perfectly styled hair just to make him grumble too. “Yeah, yeah, old man, I know what I’m about. Go and distract the cops already, I need to get away.”

Bruce lazily salutes him, looking dishevelled and mussed and suitably victimised. Jason is one damn inch away from dragging B down to the ground and reinstating his territory, god. Instead, he grabs his bag and picks up his helmet, and dawdles a little by the hatch. “You gonna be okay, old man?”

“Of course,” Bruce says confidently, ripping buttons off his coat and toeing one shoe off to look extra pathetic. “I have a hot date to keep. I’ll see you at home, Jason.”

What’s a man to do when given an order like that?

Jason obeys.

A/N: i’ve literally had ‘king tide come through’ listed as a title i wanted for something since last year?? it doesn’t even really mean anything i just love that the highest high tides are kings and it’s got such a nice ring to it. my approach to titling things is that it has to slap, thanks for coming to my TED talk ;9

#brujay #bruce wayne #jason todd #whale writing #i haven't been to many aquariums at all but #generally my idea of a good time is me being close to a Big Body Of Water #as long as i don't obsess on the survival rates of the lads in the tanks #being that close that much water is inexplainably soothing #and bc feb has been all sorts of miserable for me personally #i wanted some soothing

11 notes · View notes

juniorgman187 · 4 years

Text

52 Pickup (Spencer Reid Imagine)

Summary: What could’ve happened if Austin (the bartender from season 4, episode 9: 52 pickup) and Spencer reunited.

Couple: Fem!Character x Spencer Reid Category: Fluff Content Warning: allusions to violence, kidnapping Word Count: 2.6k

DISCLAIMER: The reason this piece is so choppy is because it was originally a screenplay, so it was written quite bluntly and straightforward - as a screenplay should be written - but I revised it because I didn’t like it as a screenplay.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Reid is working on a geographical profile for their current case. Sitting beside him is a concentrated Garcia.

“And where have you been? On a date? A secret rendezvous?” She shimmies her shoulders to tease Reid.

“No, actually. I went to that cafe by the beach.”

“Still doesn’t explain why it took two hours. If you brought a book - which I know you did - you would’ve only spent like 30 minutes there - tops. Spill.”

“Do you remember the 2008 case in Atlanta?”

Garcia pauses for a while. “You may have an excellent memory or whatever it’s called -”

Spencer interrupts. “Eidetic.”

“Yeah, that, but I don’t. Remind me again.”

“His name was Robert Parker. He disemboweled women and forced them to clean it up before killing them.”

"Mmm, okay and what about him?”

“The girl who served me coffee, Austin - we saved her the night we caught him. Yeah, apparently, she quit being a bartender and came here to California to start over.”

"I’ve never actually run into a previous victim that we saved before! Did she get all PTSD?” Garcia asks with a little too much zeal than the situation warranted.

"Quite the opposite actually. She was glad to see me. She’s been looking for me since the rescue so she could thank me in person for saving her.”

“Aww did she thank you with a big hug or like a free coffee? Oh that reminds me where’s JJ? She was supposed to bring me coffee earlier.”

“Um, I think Hotch sent her and Morgan to Cecilia Bassett’s parent’s house. And, no, she didn’t thank me.” The second part of his sentence comes off as an after thought since he’s too preoccupied flipping through his file.

“Wait what? Why? I thought her whole point was to thank you.”

“She’s saving her ‘thank you’ for when we see each other again.”

“Ooo, are Austin and Spencer gonna sit in a tree and K-I-S -”

He cuts her off promptly. “She asked me if I believed in fate and meant to be. I told her I believe in coincidences. Then she started to explain how seeing me again couldn’t just be a coincidence, so I told her if she saw me again at any point during the time we’re here, I would admit that it might be fate after all. But if we don’t see each other, then it really was just a coincidence.”

Garcia is lost. “Wait, so you don’t want to see Austin again?”

JJ and Morgan enter.

“Austin?” JJ curiously asks.

"Oh, does Pretty Boy have a girlfriend?”

“Actually I have a sunburn. How does anybody live here? I can’t go out for a second with turning red.” He deflects.

“Austin is the girl that served Reid coffee today and recognized him from when he saved her in 2008. Apparently, during the two hours he was gone, they made a bet that if they see each other again it’s fate, but Boy Wonder doesn’t believe in fate and is hoping they never see each other again so he can be right. Now where’s my coffee?”

"Oh, my bad - Hotch sent us to Cecilia’s parent’s house before I had to the chance to get it.”

“I’ll go get a cup for you, Baby Girl.” Derek leaves the room, but not before giving Garcia a gentle kiss on her forehead.

JJ takes a seat beside the pair.

“So Spence, let me get this straight, you’re hoping to never see her again?”

"I didn’t say that, I said that if I didn’t see her within the three days we’re here then it wasn’t fate after all.”

“Oh so you do want to see her? Just not in the next 72 hours?”

“I didn’t say that either.”

“What is it? Are you afraid of catching feelings for her?” JJ teases.

“No what I’m afraid of is what’s going to happen to Cecilia Bassett if I don’t figure out our unsub’s comfort zone.”

"You’ve been working on that since Morgan and I left. You can’t focus, can you?” JJ mischievously grins.

Garcia has to join in now. “Aww, is the thought of Austin distracting you?”

“No, I’m distracted by my raging sunburn and this unnecessarily long conversation about her.”

“Alright, if you say so. I’ll go find some aloe you can put on your burn.” JJ pats his back and exits the room.

Garcia eagerly turns to him as soon as JJ’s out of range. “Do you actually have a sunburn?”

"No, of course not. I’ve been applying sunscreen on every hour. I just needed her to leave so I could work on this.”

Garcia pouts a little out of pity for Reid. “It’s okay, you know. If you like this girl. We’re just giving you a hard time because we love ya.”

Spencer stops working on the map and sighs. “I don’t like her. I just . . . Everyday I work in this job, people question my intellect. Either because I’m too young or because there’s no way I could actually know all that I do, but she didn’t do either of those things. She never questioned me. She sincerely believed in me. And I guess, I . . . I just forgot what that felt like. You know she even laughed at my stupid joke?”

Garcia tilts her head understandingly. “I never knew you felt that way.”

"All my life, all I’ve ever had is my intelligence. I didn’t have friends, or sports, just my mom and my mind. And still, the one thing I have that’s all mine - the one thing I’m good at - is always invalidated by my age or even the idea that because my mom has schizophrenia I must have a genetic mental illness or that because I didn’t have friends I must been socially inept. But she put me in the highest regard - the man who saved her. The man who was strong, and brave, and smart. All the things I want to be but am not.”

Reid gives a small smile and looks up at a teary eyed Garcia, before looking straight down and resuming his work on the profile.

“You know, for the record, I think you’re all those things and more.” Garcia tousles Reid’s hair, and he sheepishly combs it back into place, smiling.

“Oh and, I found the comfort zone.” He adds.

. . .

It’s nighttime now and Freddy, Austin’s manager, and Austin are closing up the cafe.

“Sorry you had to work overtime, today. I tried calling Cece, but no answer. I hope she’s alright.” Freddy says to Austin.

“I think I’m gonna go check on her. Her apartment is on my way home so I’ll let you know how it goes.” Austin replies.

“Alrighty. See you tomorrow then.”

. . .

Austin is trying to call Cecilia as she walks up the flight of stairs that leads to her apartment.

"Hey, Cece. It’s Austin again, I was just calling to let you know I’m on my way to your apartment. You haven’t been to work in a couple days. Are you feeling okay? I can run to the store if you need anything. Anyway, call me back when you get this. I’ll be at your door soon.”

As Austin walks down a hall, she notices something suspicious. Cecilia’s door is open and yellow police tape lines the doorway. As she peeks through, it’s as if the place has been trashed. There’s even markers beside messes.

She instantly reaches for her phone to call Freddy. When she calls, the phone rings, but very quickly, a shadowy figure puts their gloved hand over her mouth and pulls her away.

. . .

Reid and Morgan are at the Bassett’s family home again. Reid is making his way through the home, while Derek speaks to the parents once more.

Colin Bassett, Cecilia’s father, consoles a hysterical Catherine Bassett, Cecilia’s mother.

“Shouldn’t you be out there looking for my Cece?” The man of the house booms.

“I can assure you sir, the rest of our team is looking for her right now, but you can help us by walking us through Cece’s daily routine. We already talked to her close friends, but is there anywhere she would go to frequently?” Morgan questions.

“She went to the beach a lot. She’s an avid surfer. She’s won competitions.”

Reid wander into the kitchen. On the fridge are several pictures of Cece. Graduation, with surf medals, and a picture at the beach. Reid recognizes it. He comes out into the living room.

“Was Cece’s favorite beach Malibu?” He asks the Bassett’s.

“Yeah, she loves it there. Says there’s better waves over there than anywhere else.”

“What is it, Reid?” Derek inquires.

“I recognize the beach. The view is the same as the one I saw when I was at the coffee shop yesterday.”

“Yeah, that’s right. Cece works at the cafe beside there. Ah, what’s the name again, Colin? The Coffee something.” Mrs. Bassett tells them.

“The Coffee Corner?” Reid suggests.

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

Morgan and Reid exchange glances.

“Yesterday when Austin served me she said, “Sorry for the wait, we’re understaffed today so it’s like a one woman show around here.” I’m guessing that the understaffing is because Cece hasn’t been at work in the past week.” Reid explains quickly.

Derek takes this as their cue to leave. “Thank you for your time.”

Both Reid and Morgan rush outside and to the SUV. Reid naturally takes the passenger seat while Derek frantically drives.

“So I guess you’ll be seeing Austin again after all. How does it feel, Pretty Boy?”

“I know that I was hoping I wouldn’t see her while we were here so I could prove her wrong, but I think I did want to see her again.”

Derek chuckles. “Congrats, you are officially the last person to know that. So you like her, huh?”

“That’s the thing - I don’t know. I liked talking to her, and I thought she was pretty, but I barely know her. She’s just some girl I saved.”

"Is she though? Because ever since you met her yesterday, you can’t think straight. It took you the entire time JJ and I were at the Bassett’s to finish the geo-profile. And I noticed that you put a napkin in the book you took to the coffee place. You never need to bookmark a page because you always finish them on the same day you start them. You couldn’t even finish a book, Reid. Something’s up.”

“I dunno, maybe, but I can’t focus on her right now, I just have to figure out what this unsub wants from Cece.”

Reid and Morgan soon arrive at the Coffee Corner. The cafe looks hectic. Freddy is so preoccupied serving customers that he doesn’t even notice the pair, until they formally introduce themselves.

Most notably, Reid is caught subtly eyeing the place for Austin to appear.

“What can I get you folks, the special today is -”

Derek saves Freddy the time by cutting him off. “I’m Agent Morgan and this is Agent Reid. We’re here to talk to you about one of your employees, Cecilia Bassett.”

“Oh, Cece? Yeah she’s not here right now, but I can take a message for her.”

“Has Cece been to work this week at all?” Morgan asks.

“Nope. No call, no text, no nothing.”

Spencer’s mind has already drifted off and it won’t refocus unless he asks, “Is Austin here?”

“She didn’t show up today, either. Last I saw her was last night when we were closing. She said she was gonna stop by Cece’s apartment to check on her, and she was supposed to call me, but she never did. Instead all I got was some weird voicemail.”

Reid and Morgan look at each other.

“Can we hear it?”

“Yeah, sure, I was gonna tell the police about it, but I didn’t have time to leave work.”

Freddy taps on his screen. The voicemail plays the sounds of Austin struggling.

Spencer whispers to Morgan. “It sounds like she’s trying to say something or scream, but it’s being silenced, most likely by a hand or a cloth.”

Now talking in a regular volume to Freddy, Spencer asks, “Sir, would you say Austin and Cece were friends?”

Freddy nods rapidly. “Oh yeah - big time. They were surfing buddies that would come in here all the time. They became such frequent customers that one day I just offered them a job.”

Derek turns to Spencer. “Why didn’t JJ interview Austin when we were interviewing Cece’s close friends?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “Can we take your phone to have that voicemail with us?” Spencer asks Freddy.

He nods and hands his phone to Reid.

As Morgan and Reid approach Cece’s apartment, they rip the police tape to enter.

“I just got off the phone with JJ. She said Austin never showed up for her interview last night. She kept rescheduling because she couldn’t leave work.” Spencer explains.

“Do you think she might be missing?”

Spencer doesn’t want to say it, but he has to consider it. “She might be.’

“Alright, let’s think about this. Austin drives straight here after work.”

“But when she does, she notices the police tape. Something’s wrong.” Spencer adds.

“Right. Then she peeks through the tape and sees the place is a mess so she goes to call for Freddy to let him know something’s up.”

“But in the voicemail, she isn’t saying anything, it’s just the sound of her struggling.” Reid mentions.

“At the very beginning there was a loud noise, I think it might’ve been the sound of her phone dropping on the floor.”

Morgan walks back into the hallway and Reid follows. Morgan gets low to the ground and scans the floor. He notices something.

“Reid, take a look at this. Small glass shards.”

“So when she dropped her phone, the screen shattered.”

“So where’s the phone? Did the unsub pick it up?”

“No, it’s too risky. If he uses his free hand to get the phone, his grip on Austin loosens, so she could run. Or he moves the hand that’s keeping her quiet, and then she’ll scream.”

“So, then it’s gotta be somewhere here.” Morgan wagers.

Reid and Morgan scan the hall and walk back in the apartment.

Spencer notices something. “Wait, I found it. It was hidden under her mail.” He tries turning it on, but It’s dead.

“Are we sure that isn’t Cece’s phone?”

“No, I saw Austin’s phone case in her back pocket.”

Morgan smirks. “Reid, were you looking at her ass-”

“But even if Austin didn’t scream,” He cuts Morgan off to deliberatly pivot from the topic. “There would’ve been some noise from her phone dropping and the sound of the struggle. Why didn’t the neighbors hear it?”

“Wait, Reid, how did the unsub even know Austin was outside?”

“Wait, listen to the voicemail again.”

Reid plays the voicemail for Morgan once more.

“Do you hear that?”

He replays the very end. It’s the faint sound of a door shutting.

In a hushed voice, Reid says, “Our unsub is one of Cece’s neighbors. It would explain why no neighbors reported hearing sounds and why they could see Austin at the door. Also, I found her phone under the mail. If he was in a hurry to get her to a secondary location, he would’ve just kicked it somewhere in the hall or into the apartment, but it’s hidden. So he’s able to come back and hide it without raising any suspicion.”

“Reid, if our unsub is a neighbor, there’s a very good chance that we’re being watched right now.”

DUN DUN DUNNNN!!!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

A/N: AHHA I AM DELIRIOUS AND ADDED THAT ‘SOUND EFFECT’ JUST BECAUSE.

Anyway truth be told, I didn’t actually have a conclusion to this with a good unsub story plot, so I wanted to leave it on a cliff hanger. Sorry to do that to you. If you have suggests - lemme knowww.

#murdery mystery #it is a mystery #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer x y/n #spencer x reader #spencer reid fluff #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfic #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds drabble

23 notes · View notes

taboofables · 3 years

Photo

CP2077 OC ask game *:･ﾟ✧⚔️🤖🔮 [x]

PERSONAL.

1. what is their full name? do they have any nicknames? what are they and why did they get them? Vincent Laszlo Toth. Everyone just calls him V because he doesn’t like getting too personal. But if he feels comfortable around you he prefers to be called Laszlo. He’ll tell you himself

2. how old are they? how long have they been living on their own? 28 as of 2077. He’s been living on his own for 10 years since he joined Arasaka

3. what are their astrology signs? sun/moon/rising. He was born on June 10th 2049, which makes him a sun Gemini, moon Libra and ascendant Virgo

4. what tarot card from the major arcana would you associate with them? The Fool, the Hanged Man, Death

5. are they religious or spiritual in any way? Neither but his experience made him think of many things and he’s coming to a sort of spirituality in his own way

6. which of the four elements would you associate with them? Fire for his inner strength and transformation through action

9. which of the nine alignments are they? (lawful good etc) Chaotic neutral

10. which of the myers-briggs personality types are they? ESTP

11. do they have any cyberware? is it cosmetic or is it weaponry/armor? Circulatory system: Second heart; Frontal cortex: Ex-Disk; Arms: Projectile launch system; Ocular system: Kiroshi optics; Cyberdeck: NetWatch Netdiver Mk.5; Integumentary system: Subdermal armor; Skeleton: Titanium bones, Bionic lungs; Legs: Fortified ankles

12. what is their occupation? Arasaka’s personal lapdog? He’s not sure yet because he does a bit of everything but his competence in weaponry and hacking earned him a good score in the eyes of Saburo and Hanako Arasaka themselves. Sorry Goro & Oda

13. if you were to choose a class for them, what would it be? Combat netrunner

14. what is their weapon of choice? M-179 Achilles precision rifle, Malorian Arms 3516 gun

15. what is their preferred vehicle or transportation of choice? Villefort Cortes Delamain no.21 & Yaiba Kusanagi CT-3X. Depends on his mood and how fast he needs to arrive

16. how would you describe their style? He’s a shameless looter and wears only the best from his fallen enemies :) But mostly it’s neomilitarism

17. are they a early riser or a night owl? Night owl. He can adapt but at any given chance he stays up late and wakes up late

18. share three songs you associate with them. Devils Got You Beat - Blues Saraceno Nu Disco Remix Limp Bizkit - Break Stuff Jonathan Davis - Walk On By

NIGHT CITY.

19. is your character from night city? if no, where were they born? what brought them to night city? if yes, what area of the city did they grow up? Charter Hill, Night City. It’s a corpo district, relatively new. Used to be a nice place until everyone with big pockets got the hots for North Oak. Now it’s just the most affordable comfort area for mid-level corpos

20. where do they currently live? describe their home. He currently resides at the Arasaka Family Compound outskirts of Tokyo. It’s a huge ass fortress in a feudal style, beautiful and old-fashioned. He has a simple but spacious room in a traditional Japanese style with a futon mattress. He loathes it & most of the people around but at least he gets fed well regularly, and he enjoys spending time in a cherry grove garden

21. do they have any favorite spots around NC? A garden in the Glen, he found it refreshing

22. do they like to cook for themselves, or eat out? do they prefer restaurants or street food? and how do they feel about vending machine food? He doesn’t like vending machines and enjoys the food served at the Compound, even if it seems exotic to him. But occasionally he eats street food to remind himself of his past life

23. do they prefer the city or the badlands? Stone jungles all the way. He was born in the city and he doesn’t get the appeal of dirt, sand and wind

24. what gang/faction/corporation do they align with, if any? Arasaka. He always thought it was more promising than Militech despite his parents’ lectures. His fate within the company wasn’t always good but he worked hard to prove himself. In some twisted way it did pay off

25. which radio station(s) is their favorite? He switches between Pacific Dreams, Vexelstrom, Samizdat and Morro Rock

26. if they do merc work, do they have one dedicated fixer? if so, who? Not really but he enjoyed working with Rogue. Johnny was right, she is the best. Her charisma is unmatched

27. have they ever had run ins with the badges? He prefers not to attract attention even if he has corpo immunity

28. are they quick to help a stranger in need or do they prefer to stay out of other peoples business? Depends. If stranger seems to be innocent then he might, but if V smells they brought it on themselves he won’t lift a finger for them

29. do they have any favorite celebrities that frequent or live in NC? how would they feel meeting them? V isn’t into celebrities. His closest experience to meeting one would be abduction of Hanako Arasaka. It wasn’t part of the plan and at first he thought he screwed up even worse than before - she was his former boss’ daughter at the time and he was practically begging her for help. But for some strange reason she reached out to him more than once so maybe he wasn’t so terrible

RELATIONSHIPS.

30. is your friend a social butterfly or more of a loner? Not exactly a butterfly but certainly not a loner. He socializes well but currently the world of top-level managers makes him feel out of place. Not a lot of people to connect to and it’s suffocating

31. who are their closest chooms in NC? Jackie was. Now it’s Viktor Vector and Misty but he hasn’t seen them in a while

32. do they have anyone they would consider family? Judy and Panam as they went through a lot together and supported each other

33. what is/was their relationship like with their parents? They are Militech managers so they weren’t happy when he chose Arasaka. They don’t communicate ever since

34. do they have siblings? He has an older brother Andras ‘Andy’ Toth but he hasn’t spoken to him for a while either

35. how would you describe their relationship with their family? Estranged

36. who is their biggest enemy? At this point anyone The Arasakas point their fingers at

37. tell a short story about your character with their best choom. Not exactly a story but V regrets never telling Jackie how much he affected his life. Jackie was a real force of nature

38. do they have a love interest? if so, who? He might... But he’s completely oblivious to his feelings and she’s way out of his league. It’s Hanako Arasaka

39. are they in a committed relationship or do they date around? They’re not and they don’t

40. has your character ever been in love? if so, with who? Once, with another corpo girl at Arasaka long time ago. It didn’t work

41. do they believe in soulmates? No, he believes in luck and mutual efforts

42. do they believe in love at first sight? He heard about it but it never happened to him and he doesn’t believe he can fall for someone just seeing them for the first time. You literally don’t know them at all at this point. He believes that love is a mutual investment and work

43. describe their ideal date. At this point it might be something as simple as watching sakura trees blooming. Small pleasures of life

44. would your character ever get married? If he had more time to live then maybe, theoretically. If he could be with someone special and circumstances worked in their favor

45. what was your characters first impression of their partner(s)? Not a partner but rather a love interest. He thought that Hanako handled herself well given the overall situation, and even was arrogant as fuck. Maybe that’s why she impressed him, it left a mark on his memory. I mean, you kidnap someone and they pretty much insult you? Fuck yes, no gift wrap is required

46. are they open about their relationship or low key? how would other people feel about them together? They’re not in a relationship but if they would be then it’d definitely be low key. No one should know, otherwise it may create serious problems for both

47. share a headcanon about your character and their partner(s). He likes to take and touch things from her table when he’s pensive during their conversations. Occasionally he spouts self-made haiku when the mood strikes him and boy - he’s terrible at it

48. share three songs you associate with your character and their partner(s). Chris Isaak - Wicked Game Jonathan Davis - Basic Needs The Rolling Stones - Anybody Seen My Baby? Hikaru Utada - Heart Station

NSFW.

49. name three of your characters biggest turn ons. Nice derriere, beautiful eyes and maturity

50. name three of your characters biggest kinks. Not taking clothes off; Voyeurism; Footsie

51. do they like having multiple partners or do they prefer monogamy? When it comes to a relationship he’s fully committed but he hasn’t been in one for a long time

52. do they watch porn or braindances? Both but BDs beat porn. He doesn’t do it often though

53. would your character ever make an explicit braindance? No, he’s not interested and not in a position to make one

54. do they have any cybernetic enhancements that serve sexual purposes? No

55. do they have a preference for ‘ganic bodies or do they like modifications? He doesn’t care much as long as he likes the person. Organic bodies are soft and warm, they give different kind of sensations. But he’s not picky

56. name three of your characters biggest turn offs. Low IQ, overly sexual behavior, manipulations

57. what is their ultimate fantasy? or ““secret”“ kink? Don’t ask because he won’t tell you even if his life depended on it. It’s bending Hanako over her piano and giving her a hard fuck, and once they’re done it’s breathing heavily in unison against her neck, their hands holding each other, her golden fingers leaving bruises on his thighs afterwards

58. would they ever use any substances like aphrodisiacs, alcohol or drugs during sex? No, he prefers natural sensations. At least as long as his nervous system is working properly

59. what is their wildest sexual experience? He accidentally almost drowned once during sex in a bathtub

60. are they more submissive or dominant? Dominant

61. does your character need to have an intimate relationship with someone to have sex? or do they prefer being unattached? That depends on a situation. Intimate relationship heightens the effects but aren’t necessary to derive pleasure

62. has your character ever participated in group sex? No but he received invitations

63. do they like to sext or play over the holo? Yes, if there’s a appropriate time for it

64. has your character ever ghosted someone after a sexual encounter? Yes

65. how would they react if they were ghosted by someone they like after a sexual encounter? He’s already been ghosted by Meredith Stout and he doesn’t think it’s a big deal. It’s unpleasant but why focus on something that doesn’t work if you can find more opportunities?

66. do they prefer kink oriented sex or spontaneous passionate sex? If he had to choose then it would be the latter

67. how do they get down on their own? quick and easy or do they have to romance themselves a little? Quick and easy, all he needs is imagination and a shower. Just don’t disturb him

68. in what outfit do they feel sexiest? how do they dress to impress? Anything that’s clean, fresh and comfortable to wear

69. do they like having music on while they have sex? share three songs they’d play while getting down. He never tried it with music but he’s always open to new experiences and suggestions

#:[subject - V]:#:[dossier - V]:#:[query]:

8 notes · View notes

discordantwords · 4 years

Note

hi 🥺 do you have any recs or an existing list of long fics with a good plot and a decent amount of smut too? thank you!!

Hi!

I’m not sure if you’re looking for canon-compliant fics or AUs, but here are a few long fics with excellent plots that come to mind:

Our Enthusiasms Which Cannot Always Be Explained by withoutawish The list that is tacked haphazardly on the refrigerator of 221B reads, ‘Kidney(s), and/or a full cadaver (preferably male, late 30s, under six feet tall), bag of fresh toes, sixteen cow’s eyes (corneas retained), dual exhaust hand –held flame thrower, an unopened first edition copy of Joseph Conrad’s 'Heart of Darkness', and no less than ten abhorrently gruesome murders in the upcoming month.” The one neatly hanging next to it simply reads, “Sex.”

A River Without Banks by Chryse "You love this, being Sherlock Holmes. "He had once. When had it all gone so wrong?

The Case of the Green Gown by Splix ...Watson had at that time deserted me for a wife, the only selfish action which I can recall in our association. I was alone. ---Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, The Adventure of the Blanched Soldier

A Vintage Exceptionally to Your Liking by EmmyAngua Sherlock and John met seven years earlier than canon and fell in love. When John dies, Sherlock is introduced to the concept of alternate dimensions and given the opportunity to visit a different universe where he can have a second chance with a new John Watson. A love story across alternate dimensions.

Transports by ancientreader How to become a consulting detective.

In The Deep, Where Dark Things Sleep by HardlyFair The closer time crawls to November, the more water horses the Scorpio Sea spits out. The colder Thisby becomes. Sherlock Holmes is an islander - completely surrounded by the water. John Watson, he knows, comes from the mainland and lives for the Races. On the first of November, Sherlock will race. The man holding steady by his side is someone he never expects.

The Illustrious Client by ArabellaStrange We’re a couple!' John burst out, bluntly. His face was nearly twitching with rage. He hadn’t even meant to say anything, to anybody, because he wanted what they had for himself just a bit longer, for a million reasons half-romantic and half-defensive, and yet here he was, gripping Chez Francine’s thick cream tablecloth with enough force to tear it in half, suddenly wanting nothing more than to tell everyone within earshot that Sherlock was absolutely infuriating, surprisingly good at blowjobs, and probably in love with him.

Every Lover in the Form of Stars by esplanade "John had never really given a damn about art, before Afghanistan. It had always seemed like something that only certain people were allowed to appreciate, people who had studied for years and been trained to pick it apart and understand it. But he had begun to find comfort in it himself, even if he knew next to nothing about brushstrokes and art styles, oil paint versus acrylic, traditional or mixed media. It wasn't that he had suddenly developed a great appreciation for the classics, the art school standbys like Michelangelo or Picasso. Instead, what it boiled down to, the real reason behind his fixation was much simpler: quiet."

Parhelion by tripodion The darkness is coming again, and when you've lived as a member of the undead for over five hundred years together, you know a thing or two about handling it. Forever is a long way to fall.

Be Here Now by todesfuge John Watson was already fighting demons when he and Sherlock met. With Sherlock's suicide, it all comes flooding back, forcing Sherlock to intervene before he's solved the persistent riddles of Jim Moriarty and his game. Together they find that something darker lurks behind Moriarty, forcing Sherlock, John, and Irene Adler into an even deadlier game with a much more dangerous foe.

Masters of Ink by indybaggins John has a triple-coiled tattoo machine in his hand and a row of inks at the ready. He has gloves on, a willing client in front of him, and a detailed stencil. He is ready to win this bloody competition. Except he’s competing against Sherlock Holmes... First-meeting-on-a-reality-show AU, Ink Master edition! There is expert tattooing, slightly less expert flirting, and two men falling hard. But John is married, and they can’t all win.

A Ritual to Read to Each Other by weeesi After Mycroft terminated his exile but before Sherlock could escape from the infuriating plane, John and Mary were whisked away by car to an unknown location. Sherlock hasn't seen them for an entire year. He doesn't know when he'll see John again -- until one day, he does. But, of course, nothing is simple.

Watches ‘Verse by bendingsignpost First, he is shot in Afghanistan. Second, he wakes to a phone call in Chelmsford, Essex. Third is pain, fourth is normalcy, fifth is agony and sixth is confusion. By the eighth, he's lost track. (John-centric AU)

You Go to My Head Series by J_Baillier and 7PercentSolution Doctor Sherlock Holmes is the hospital's new neurosurgical star. He performs miracles with his scalpel, but his bedside manner leaves a lot to be desired. The task to address the issue falls on Doctor John Watson, one of King's College Hospital's senior neuroanaesthetists.

Gimme Shelter by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John All John Watson wants is the feeling of a freshly waxed surfboard under his feet and the hot California sun baking down onto his back. To finally go pro in the newly formed world of professional surfing and leave the dark memories of his past behind him as he rips across the face of a towering blue barrel. To lounge beside the beach bonfire every evening with an ice cold beer tucked into the cool sand beside him and listen to Pink Floyd and the Doors while the saltwater dries in his sun bleached hair. That's all he wants, that is, until the hot young phenom taking Oahu and the Hawaiian shores by storm steps up next to him in the sand in the second round of the 1976 International Surf Competition.

As always, be sure to heed the tags on each individual fic.

There are SO many wonderful fics out there and I can’t possibly link them all. If anyone else sees this and wants to add a rec for a long plotty fic, please feel free to do so!

#sherlock #fic recs #long fics #plotty fics #rec list #dw makes rec lists #dw recs fic

54 notes · View notes

quintessentialserenity · 3 years

Text

Fic Writer Review

Thanks for the tag! @karasmoak01 :D

1. how many works do you have on AO3?

I have 9.

2. what’s your total AO3 word count?

253 895

3. how many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

I really only write Arrowverse fics. Within the Arrowverse, I focus mainly on Arrow with Supergirl as a clear second (my two favourite shows), but characters from all of the other shows do appear quite a lot. To put it like this, my fics are generally - 60% Arrow, 30% Supergirl, 10% the other shows.

I did once write a short crackfic which was a crossover between Arrow and Predator XD

4. what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

When Destiny Calls - 101

Do I Wanna Know? - 92

Invasion: Love of Yesterday - 63

Friends of Fond Memories - 52

Phantom of Hope - 50

5. do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Yes! I absolutely love receiving comments, especially when the reader has questions or tries to make predictions about what happens in the rest of the story. Engaging with readers is so much fun.

6. what’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Anybody who knows me knows that I'm an absolute sucker for happy endings. I have a good amount of angst in the story, but I always like ending on a sweet note. I've literally never written angsty ending XD

So, of all of my sweet endings, Purgatory: Hunted has the most neutral ending, so I guess that is the "angstiest". XD

7. do you write crossovers? if so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

The Arrowverse can be seen as one fandom, but because of all the different shows, I guess you could say I've written crossovers between the shows. I've written 5 crossover fics over 2 different series with the shows being Arrow and Supergirl. My craziest one from them would be Phantom of Hope. I did so many different things in the story and combined so many elements of both shows that one commenter said "Can this be more of an Arrow-Supergirl crossover story?!" XD That made me so happy.

Purgatory: Hunted was pretty crazy. It kind of made sense that an alien sports hunter that targets the strongest humans would go after some superheroes, but what was crazy was that I decided to mesh the two universes of the franchises XD And I had to rate it M because of how graphic and gory it is. Definitely my most gory story.

8. have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not really. I have had readers disagree with me or take some offense to something in the fic though. Someone kinda came after me for a gun control line XD

It wasn't anything big, the line was literally something like "Mass murders happened less often due to a number of things, gun control law being one" and he took it as a dig when it honestly wasn't meant to be. I'm not even American, the aforementioned gun control law was actually something from canon that I decided to use in the story XD

9. do you write smut? if so what kind?

No, not yet at least. I kinda want to. I have a story idea which would include smut, but I'm having a hard time writing the actual story itself, let alone the smut XD God help me when/if I get there.

10. have you ever had a fic stolen?

No.

11. have you ever had a fic translated?

No, I don't think so.

However, I did have a French reader who would only comment in French, so I think he used to translate my story to French and read it that way XD

12. have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, but I think it could be super fun with the right idea. The problem is finding a time to write and discuss it with the other person, because managing your personal life with writing is difficult as is, and with two of you, it could be even more difficult. I'd also hate to let the other person down by not being able to give them the time and effort that they deserve in working on the story.

13. what’s your all time favorite ship?

SuperArrow (Green Arrow and Supergirl/Oliver Queen and Kara Zor-El)

14. what’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Oh goodness...

Well, I have this story idea that's a longfic sequel to a couple of short stories, but I just can't seem to get it done. It's a bit strong to say that I don't think I'll ever get it done, but it's been on my mind for months and I've done very, very little with it. It's not really like I've lost interest, because the idea is still living in my head 24/7 and I think about it a lot, but I get to the page and I can't find a way to get it down. I have a lot of doubts over whether it'll ever be more than just an idea in my head, but I'm constantly holding out hope that one day it will be! *fingers crossed*

15. what are your writing strengths?

I think I'm fairly good with angst and I'm not too bad with fluff, but my real strength is fight scenes, I'm really good with those.

16. what are your writing weaknesses?

I think I can be a bit too concise and succinct with my words. Like, I don't describe something as in depth and deeply as possible, which can be a good thing but it can also be a bad thing as the story then isn't as good as it can be.

As a writer myself, I'm a bit of a perfectionist and overthink things too much XD

17. what are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I like it, it can be fun. Especially when you have something like when there are three characters and two of them are speaking in a language that the third doesn't understand XD Can create a funny scene.

18. what was the first fandom you wrote for?

Oh damn XDD Kinda ashamed of this but... Godzilla.

When I was 13, I wrote a Godzilla fanfic, rewrote it when I was 15 and then wrote another Godzilla fic later that year. That was my first experience with fanfic and a way to exercise my love for writing at a young age. They're pretty bad compared to my stuff now, that's why I'm ashamed of them XD I can't even go back and read them because I cringe.

I see those fics as stepping stones which helped me get to where I am now with my writing. I don't really consider them the real beginning of my journey as a fic writer because I didn't write at all for 4 years after them. I consider my Arrowverse fics as the real blossoming of my journey as a fic writer.

19. what’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

This is like asking someone who is their favourite child XD "I love them all equally ;)"

But I do have a favourite one, When Destiny Calls. I love all of my fics with all of my heart for many different reasons, but WDC is truly just special to me. I worked on it for over 10 months and I just love what I did with characters and plot. I had so much fun working on it too, I kinda miss those days. I literally cannot say how much I love this fic and how proud of it I am XD it's just that special to me.

#ask game #fan fic asks

1 note · View note

justforbooks · 4 years

Photo

Few people have touched hearts and minds like Anthony Bourdain, chef, author, and world traveler. I know I’m not alone when I say that I miss him, his wit, his wisdom, his honesty, his generosity, his unfailing kindness. I have been a fan of Anthony Bourdain's since the day I read and learned why I shouldn't order fish on Tuesdays.

He has written over a dozen books, including novels, many bestsellers. He traveled all over the world enjoying amazing food and culture on his five-year-old show Parts Unknown. I admired the way he turned his gift for storytelling and success at the New York Brasserie Les Halles into one accomplishment after another.

And in that vein, I hope these Anthony Bourdain quotes will inspire you to travel more, eat bravely, and live a life with no reservations. Enjoy the meal.

1. "Your body is not a temple, it's an amusement park. Enjoy the ride."

2. "I always entertain the notion that I'm wrong, or that I'll have to revise my opinion. Most of the time that feels good; sometimes it really hurts and is embarrassing."

3. "Luck is not a business model."

4. "If I'm an advocate for anything, it's to move. As far as you can, as much as you can. Across the ocean, or simply across the river. Walk in someone else's shoes or at least eat their food. It's a plus for everybody."

5. "Travel is about the gorgeous feeling of teetering in the unknown."

6. "Skills can be taught. Character you either have or you don't have."

7. "I don't have to agree with you to like you or respect you."

8. "As you move through this life and this world, you change things slightly; you leave marks behind, however small. And in return, life--and travel--leaves marks on you. Most of the time, those marks--on your body or on your heart--are beautiful. Often, though, they hurt."

9. "I'm not afraid to look like an idiot."

10. "Without experimentation, a willingness to ask questions and try new things, we shall surely become static, repetitive, and moribund."

11. "Maybe that's enlightenment enough: to know that there is no final resting place of the mind, no moment of smug clarity. Perhaps wisdom ... is realizing how small I am, and unwise, and how far I have yet to go."

12. "You learn a lot about someone when you share a meal together."

13. "The journey is part of the experience -- an expression of the seriousness of one's intent. One doesn't take the A train to Mecca."

14. "I'm a big believer in winging it. I'm a big believer that you're never going to find a perfect city travel experience or the perfect meal without a constant willingness to experience a bad one. Letting the happy accident happen is what a lot of vacation itineraries miss, I think, and I'm always trying to push people to allow those things to happen rather than stick to some rigid itinerary."

15. "Cooking is a craft, I like to think, and a good cook is a craftsman -- not an artist. There's nothing wrong with that: The great cathedrals of Europe were built by craftsmen -- though not designed by them. Practicing your craft in expert fashion is noble, honorable, and satisfying."

17. "To me, life without veal stock, pork fat, sausage, organ meat, demi-glace, or even stinky cheese is a life not worth living."

18. "Don't lie about it. You made a mistake. Admit it and move on. Just don't do it again. Ever."

19. "Travel isn't always pretty. It isn't always comfortable. Sometimes it hurts, it even breaks your heart. But that's OK. The journey changes you; it should change you. It leaves marks on your memory, on your consciousness, on your heart, and on your body. You take something with you. Hopefully, you leave something good behind."

20. "The way you make an omelet reveals your character."

21. "Assume the worst. About everybody. But don't let this poisoned outlook affect your job performance. Let it all roll off your back. Ignore it. Be amused by what you see and suspect. Just because someone you work with is a miserable, treacherous, self-serving, capricious, and corrupt asshole shouldn't prevent you from enjoying their company, working with them, or finding them entertaining."

22. "I'm not going anywhere. I hope. It's been an adventure. We took some casualties over the years. Things got broken. Things got lost. But I wouldn't have missed it for the world."

23. "[When I die], I will decidedly not be regretting missed opportunities for a good time. My regrets will be more along the lines of a sad list of people hurt, people let down, assets wasted, and advantages squandered."

24. "Without new ideas, success can become stale."

25. "I wanted kicks -- the kind of melodramatic thrills and chills I'd yearned for since childhood, the kind of adventure I'd found as a little boy in the pages of my Tintin comic books."

26. "Cream rises. Excellence does have its rewards."

27. "What are our expectations? Which of the things we desire are within reach? If not now, when? And will there be some left for me?"

28. "I'm very type-A, and many things in my life are about control and domination, but eating should be a submissive experience, where you let down your guard and enjoy the ride."

29. "I learned a long time ago that trying to micromanage the perfect vacation is always a disaster. That leads to terrible times."

30. "I can unload my opinion on anybody at any time."

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

#JUST FOR BOOKS #Anthony Bourdain

187 notes · View notes

mitchsmarners · 4 years

Text

i took too many hits off this memory (i need to come down)

pairing: eddie kaspbrak/richie tozier [reddie] rating: teen audiences and up chapter warnings: mentions of past drug abuse, mentions of past child abuse in terms of s*nia kaspbrak, mentions of minor character death/near death word count: 3,515 chapter count: 4 of ? summary: Eddie Kaspbrak doesn’t remember much from his childhood. He doesn’t really know he doesn’t remember. He also doesn’t know why he’s so drawn this terrible comedian on tv, but when Eddie runs into him in a bar, and they spend the night together, Eddie’s life is changed forever. It’s finally back on track- and he doesn’t know anything about it

read on ao3. moodboard by @isaacslaheys

perma taglist: @jwilliambyers, @stebbins, @isaacslaheys, @s-s-georgie, @transrich@eddiefuckinkaspbrak, @edstozler, @emgays, @anellope, @thorn-harvester-ven, @wheezyeds, @vipertooth, @tozierking, @billdenbrough, @starrystoziers, @trashmouthtozierr, @willelbyers @loserslibrary (let me know if you want added!)

June 5 2009

Richie wasn’t sure how to tell his manager that he didn’t want to do stand up anymore. That maybe he’d never really wanted to do stand up. He liked making people laugh, and he vaguely remembered wanting to be a vanquilist when he was a kid but he’d never been able to stop his mouth from moving with the words. It was fitting that now, Richie’s job was almost just exclusively moving his mouth. Richie had gotten terrifyingly good at walking on stage, flicking off his brain and transforming into Trashmouth™. That had long since stopped bothering him, but as his career took off, Richie found himself having to be Trashmouth™ more and more and Richie less and less. He was suddenly surrounded by people who only really saw him as the foul mouthed, sex crazed misogynist his ghost writers had him portrayed as on stage. They’d promised him that kind of shit sold, and they’d been right, but suddenly all his friends actually thought and spoke like Trashmouth™ and it made him queasy. He could only handle sitting through so many homophobic and sexist conversations before he felt Richie would melt right out of him and Trashmouth™ would be all that was left of him. He couldn’t let that happen… he just didn’t know how to tell anybody.

He was doing a string of shows in Georgia, because Richie’s shows always sold better the further south he went. Richie hated the South, and not just because of his whole bisexuality thing, but because the weather sucked, the accents annoyed him and Richie Tozier did not belong anywhere where the potential of rodeo or circus existed. (Richie Tozier didn’t know anything about the Southern United States).

Richie had been born in Maine, one of the coldest states in this god forsaken country, and in 1992 his family had moved up north of the border. Richie had come back to the United States after university, because everybody told him that he would be better off getting a job in show business in America rather than Canada. He hadn’t been totally sure that was true, but he’d gotten successful pretty quickly after moving back down here so he wasn’t about to argue it.

“I don’t know what you’re upset about.” Audra Phillips, one of Richie’s few true friends, was saying to him while packing up Richie’s hotel room. He was so ready to leave the Devil behind, and get started on his break. He was fully debating on going to Canada to see his parents, it had been too long and every phone conversation with his mom felt like a guilty knife to the chest, but Richie had things he needed to take care of.

“You’ve been doing this for years, Rich.” Audra carried on, scowling at one Richie’s ratty overshirts before tossing it directly into the hotel bedside garbage. “You’re good at it, you’re making great money, you get to stay in the nicest hotels and see the country. What else could you possibly want? You’re doing things most people dream of.”

Richie huffed out an aggravated breath. “You’re telling me you never think of leaving all this behind? Not even when paparazzi follow you around the grocery store or TMZ leaks half truths that destroy your relationships.”

Audra crossed her arms over her chest. “First of all, no, I don’t. I’m living my dreams, Richie, that’s more than most people can say! And when was the last time Paparazzi followed you anywhere? Never? What’s really bugging you out, Richie?”

“I don’t know,” Richie said, only half-lying. “It’s like… sure, I’m doing great financially, and it’s nice that people want to see my shows but it’s not like they actually like me. The person they’re coming to see is basically the anti Richie. If I come out, I will lose all my fans because they’re a bunch of homophobic asstwats because that’s the audience I have to cater to.”

“Are you thinking of coming out?” Audra asked.

“Not like… tomorrow, but someday, yeah.” Richie said quietly. “I’m not going to live my life in the closet. It’s not like it’s the 1980s anymore. Honestly, if it wasn’t for my shows and how coming out would basically make all my content unuseable, I probably would have come out already. Or at least not been so hard on sneaking around.”

Audra dropped down on the hotel bed and smiled sadly up at him. “You shouldn’t have to live a lie forever, Richie, but you’ve got to be reasonable about this, too. You can’t just up and quit, you know that. You’re on a contract, Steve will not hesitate to sue the fuck out of you if you try to skimp out-”

“My contract ends with this tour,” Richie said. “That’s why I’ve been thinking about it so much, they’re trying to get me to sign on for another three years and I just… I’m 30, Auds. I don’t want to spend another three years of my life touring around to states to hate, telling jokes I don’t relate to and letting people think I can for things that I don’t. I hate that people can use my acts to justify their bullshit, you know? Three more years of that would literally make me want to kill myself.”

Audra froze for a moment, then shook her head. “If you’re having thoughts again then we can-”

“No.” Richie snapped. “It’s not like that, and before you ask- no, I’m not using anymore. I’m not going down any sort of self destructive path. I’m just… tired. I’m 30, and I’m in the closet and I’m tired.”

Audra nodded slowly. “Okay, then here’s what you’ve got to do, then. Go to talk to somebody at your bank today before you head out, just see what you’re looking at financially. Figure out how long you can bank on your ass without working while you figure out what you want to do. Then go home and see your momma, because she probably misses you, and tell Steve that you will give them an answer to resigning when you get back.”

“And what if I don’t want to come back?” Richie asked quietly.

“Then you don’t have to.” Audra said simply. “But Steve the bullshit excuse anyway. It’ll get you across the border way easier then if you tell him that you tell him to go fuck himself and that his biggest profit client is leaving him.”

There was only one branch of Richie’s bank in Atlanta, and Richie took a moment to appreciate Steve’s power as he was ushered through the bank and immediately back to meet with one of their accountants. The man on the other side of the desk wore a simple grey suit with the jacket draped over the back of his chair. His white button up shirt was rolled up to his elbows, and his hair was in tight, proper brown curls around his head. He was, in short, somebody who usually made Richie’s mouth water just at the sight but for some reason, he wasn’t attracted to the man despite how his energy put Richie immediately at ease.

STANLEY URIS, according to the sign on his desk, gave Richie a polite smile. “So, Mr. Tozier, what can we help you with today?”

Richie let out a long, slow sigh. “I’m gonna be honest with you. I’m here because I wanna quit my job, but my best friend told me that I should make sure that isn’t the world’s worst idea ever.”

Stanley Uris chuckled, and clicked on a few things on his computer. “I’m not usually prone to telling people to quit their jobs, but based on your accounts here, you’d be able to make due for at least a year if not more on your savings only. Permitting you don’t go around making any outrageous and sentrous purchases. Basic costs of living wouldn’t be a concern for a while.”

Richie had already known that, mostly. He’d only agreed to come here to soothe Audra’s nerves. Money hadn’t been a concern of Richie’s in many years, but it was nice to know he’d be okay for a while while he figured out what it was he wanted from life. What he could do.

Stanley turned in his chair and met Richie’s gaze with a wiry look. “I’m not prone to getting involved with my consults personal lives, but I have to ask Mr Tozier- why are you thinking of quitting your job? I won’t pretend your particular brand of comedy is up my alley, but you seem to have made a name for yourself in the business. Is it wise of you to walk away now?”

Richie blinked. “I don’t know anything about what’s wise or what isn’t, I never have. But I do know that this name I’ve made for myself, like you said, isn’t the name I want to carry forever. It isn’t me, and I guess I want the world to see me for who I am now.”

“Well.” Stanley’s lips twitched up in a hint of smile. “As you inquired, you’d certainly be able to make due for a quite a while figuring out what it is you want your name to be, Mr. Tozier. And a piece of advice, if I may?” Richie nodded. “There’s nothing wrong with trying to find yourself, Richie. I went through most of my life mocked for who I was, or who I hung around, or what my religious beliefs were. And it stung for a long time, but I’m glad that I stuck it out. I’m a loser and I always fucking will be. It’s often not worth it to put on a mask and pretend all the time. Be who you want to be, be proud.”

Richie definitely was not tearing up in the middle of a bank office. This strange accountant had somehow struck something deep within Richie that not even his trained therapist or NA sponsors had ever been able to reach. Almost like he knew… but that wasn’t possible.

“Yeah.” Richie said through a voice crack. “Thanks, Stan the Man. I’ll do that.”

Richie made a quick exit from the bank, truly worried for a moment that he might begin to cry in the middle of this poor man’s office. He made a rushed phone call to Steve, just Audra had advised, telling him that he needed some time to clear his head and he was going back to Canada for the short while between legs of his stand up tour. That he’d have an answer for Steve regarding his contract when he got back. Steve hadn’t been thrilled with the whole thing, but Richie supposed he was thankful that it wasn’t a straight up no. Previous attempts at negotiation hadn’t looked good, and Richie knew that.

As Richie was getting onto the plane, his phone buzzed. He pulled it out, ready to turn the device off as he boarded and he frowned at the notification. Steve had said he was going to give Richie the space he’d requested and he usually waited a couple days before he broke those promises.

Hey Richie. I know you said you needed time but SNL is interested in signing you as a full time cast member when your tour is over. Call me when you land. -Steve.

“Aren’t you worried about the cold?” Eddie Kaspbrak asked, legs draped over Richie’s in the front steps of the Tozier house. It was nearly completely packed up, the family only waiting for the school year to finish out before they took off. They wouldn’t even be staying for the summer. Eddie wished he’d known that last summer was truly going to be their last summer.

“Why would I be worried about the cold?” Richie replied with a snort. “We live in Maine, Eddie boy! I’m used to the cold by now.”

Eddie wrinkled his nose and smacked Richie in the shoulder. “In the winter, sure! But Canada- That’s winter all year ‘round, isn’t it? Won’t you miss swimming and shorts? How are people supposed to know that you have terrible fashion sense if you have to dress in parkas all year long?”

Richie laughed, and it made Eddie’s heart flutter in his chest. “Canada has four seasons just like every other country, Eds! My momma says that their summers can even get pretty hot. It’s not a land of make belief, or anything. Why are you hating on it so bad?”

“I’m not hating on anything.” But Eddie thought maybe he did hate Canada, a little bit. He hated that Richie was moving to Canada, a whole other country. It was hard enough when Beverly moved to Portland and Ben moved to another state. Another country might as well be an entire other world. Mike believed that the further people got away from Derry, the more they forgot and Eddie was having a particularly hard time thinking about Richie forgetting him while possibly living in a snowbank.

“Stop.” Richie suddenly groaned. He reached out and shook Eddie’s shoulders. “Stop thinking so damn hard, you’re making my head hurt. I don’t wanna think about it, and I don’t want you thinking about it! We can’t stop it, so can we please just spend the next month having fun and being us and NOT thinking about it?”

Eddie sighed and in a moment of weakness, dropped his head down to rest on Richie’s shoulders. He knew they were out in the open, that anybody could walk past and just… see them like this. It wasn’t safe, but for the moment, Eddie didn’t care. Derry was already hell, and nothing could make it worse than Richie leaving.

“I’m not trying to dwell on it.” Eddie said quietly, curling up into Richie’s side fully. “I’m not, it’s just…”

“Nah, yeah, I get it.” Richie wrapped an arm around Eddie’s shoulder and jostled him slightly. “But there’s no sense stressing about the things we can’t control, you know? Life in the moment, Eddie my love!”

Eddie exhaled hard. “Richie… I need to tell you something.”

August 10 2009

Eddie Kaspbrak hated airports. There was something about the energy in the place that just made Eddie feel wild and horrible. He always drove himself, always. No matter how many times people told him that flying was safer than driving, that it was stupid to drive across country when flying could get him somewhere within a day. Eddie Kaspbrak hadn’t flown since 1999 on a forced family vacation with his mother and aunts. Until today.

Eddie would much rather be making the drive to Derry rather than getting on a plane at JFK but his aunt Darlene had insisted that Eddie fly out to Bangor, that six hours was much too long. His mother might not last that long, and Eddie would so regret it if he wasn’t there with her when she passed. Eddie wasn’t sure if that was true, but he’d bought the last minute plane ticket anyway. He wasn’t too sure what a difference five hours would make, but it was never worth it arguing with his mother or his aunts.

From what Aunt Darlene had told him, Sonia Kaspbrak was as good as gone already. A stroke, late last night. The doctors weren’t hopeful for any recovery, or even for the woman to regain consciousness. It left a sick feeling in Eddie’s stomach, thinking of his mother in a hospital bed, as good as gone and being kept alive by machines. It made him feel even sicker to know that it was exactly how she’d want to go, holding onto life and sucking up resources and doctor’s time right up until the very end. Eddie had kept his mother at a distance as much as possible since leaving home for college, and in the last two years he hadn’t spoken to her at all. He’d felt no desire to. She’d made his life hard, so much harder than it had ever needed to be. He was certain that if it hadn’t been for her, he would have come out long before he did. Myra would never have happened. To this day, at 30 years old, Eddie was still trying to figure out what things are true and what are lies from her influence. He wasn’t sure he ever wasn’t going to fuck up from her, and maybe she didn’t deserve him by her bedside at all. Kay had told him that she didn’t, that Eddie shouldn’t put himself through it. He didn’t owe her a goddamn thing, and Eddie knew she was right.

Eddie Kaspbrak hated airports, he hated flying, he hated goddamn Maine and he fucking hated his mother. His plane was going to start to board any minute and Eddie was still sitting in the waiting area with his emergency overnight bag tightly in his grip. He was rapidly running out of time to make good on this plane ticket that he’d bought on his messley cab driver salary.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” A familiar voice carried over to Eddie through the waiting room. “Is that Eddie fucking Kaspbrak?”

Eddie turned in his seat, and grinned when he noticed none other than Richie Tozier walking towards him. His clothes were rumbled and he had a five o’clock shadow around his jaw that made Eddie’s stomach tighten. It was almost weird how little Richie Tozier crossed his mind, despite how intense his reaction was every time he saw him or even thought about him for too long.

“Richie Tozier,” Eddie said slowly, face breaking into a grin. He stood and walked over to Richie, with his overnight slung over his shoulder. “Back in the world of the living I see. I think your fans were starting to think you died somewhere.”

“Awe, Eds. You been keeping tabs on lil ol’ me?” Richie chuckled, reaching out to pinch at Eddie’s cheeks. “No need to worry, Eddie boy. I was merely taking some me time in the great white North. My parents live in Canada, I went to visit them and clear my head.”

Eddie’s chest twinged. “Well, welcome back to civilization then, I guess.”

“You’ve always been Canadianphobic huh, Eds?” Richie laughed but Eddie frowned deeply.

“What do you mean always?”

Eddie and Richie looked at each other for a long moment, before Richie shook his head. “I don’t know, you just strike me as the type, I guess. What are you doing here? You don’t really strike me as the flying type.”

Eddie shuddered. “God, I’m not.” He said honestly. “But my mom is dying or some shit, and my aunt is pitching some drama fit about how a six hour car drive is too long so I have to take the plane.”

Richie froze for a moment, mouth half open and eyes wide. Eddie braced himself for the evitable awkward apologies and sympathies that always came with the whole dead parent card.

“That sucks man.” Richie said finally, with a shrug. “You going back to Derry all by yourself?”

Eddie had given up on trying to figure out how Richie just seemed to know things about him. It wasn’t even that weird anymore. “Yeah.” He answered with a sigh. “If I get my shit together and actually catch my plane. I’m cutting it pretty close.”

“Well…” Richie gave Eddie a soft smile. “If you didn’t want to take the trip alone, I’m not doing anything interesting. I’m supposed to be settling into my new apartment but that’s boring and I think it would be way more to go back to Derry with you and wreak havoc on your aunts.”

“You’re moving to New York?” Eddie asked with wide eyes. He tried not to think about how a big reason he and Richie had never really been together was the constant distance and Richie’s travelling. He wasn’t sure Richie had even had a home before.

“Yeah.” Richie suddenly seemed embarrassed. “I was trying to get out of the whole stand up game, and my manager got me a steady gig on Saturday Night Live.”

“SNL?” Eddie gasped. “Richie! That’s huge! Congratulations!”

Richie’s cheeks reddened. “Thanks, man. But I’m serious about the offer. It’s no skin off my back at all. We can go see if they have tickets left, how many people could possibly be going to fucking Maine?”

Eddie should say no. It couldn’t bring Richie home with him, to his crazy aunts and his dead mother. To Derry at all. Eddie barely remembered Derry, outside of spending almost all his time locked up in his bedroom. But he remembered enough to know that it was a horrible place, almost like it was permanently stuck in the 1950s and there was something… evil about that place. Just thinking of it made Eddie’s palms sweat and knees shake. But on the other hand…

“It wouldn’t be good for our friendship for me to reject you twice at this stupid airport.” Eddie said, forcing his voice to be light. “Let’s go.”

#reddie #reddie fic #my writing #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #memories

60 notes · View notes

ozkamal · 3 years

Quote

Wisdom notes1. It’s not who you are underneath it’s what you do that defines you 2. Stop living other people’s stories and start writing your own 3. We are all gonna die, not all of us get to make a difference 4. Just cause you know you are capable of something doesn’t mean it has to happen again 5. Every weakness contains within itself a strength 6. Why do we fall? So we can learn to pick ourselves back up. 7. In order to be what we are, we have to come out of what we are not 8. It’s not the size of a soldier in a fight, it’s the size of the fight in a soldier 9. some of the best things in life are by accident 10. you can lose to your enemy, but you must not lose to fear 11. if your looking for revenge, you should start by digging two graves 12. sometimes the scars you can’t see are the ones that hurt the most 13. sometimes the rain must fall for us to appreciate the sun 14. train yourself to let go, of everything you fear to lose 15. a man does not cry because he is weak, he cries because he has been strong for too long 16. not everyone can be trusted, even your shadow leaves when your in the dark 17. don’t trust anyone too much, remember the devil was once an angel 18. you didn’t fail, you just found out, eg:100 ways how not to make a light bulb 19. I failed over and over, that’s why i’m successful. 20. it isn’t what you got in life it’s what you make of it 21. people do not despise the thief who steals to satisfy himself when he is starving 22. a mans loyalty is tested when he has everything. a woman’s is tested when he has nothing 23. you have to be odd to be number one 24. trust takes years to build and yet only seconds to break 25. never regret a single thing that made you happy 26. make the plan, execute the plan, expect the plan to go off the rails, throw away the plan. 27. don’t be afraid of losing people, be afraid of losing yourself trying to please everyone around you 28. when we stop checking the monsters under the bed that’s when we realise they were inside us 29. sometimes she’ll keep you down but also somehow be the one to keep you up 30. From strangers. to friends. to being together but then back strangers but with memories 31. it hurts a lot when she breaks up with you. and gets together with someone else really quick... it just don’t feel like she cared, but sometimes you gotta let fate take you by the hand 32. you lost interest so fast.. my world ended before it even started 33. you can love somebody just by being attached. see loyalty is a action u can love or hate me but u still have my back 34. as dr seuss said, “i always knew looking back on the tears would make me laugh. but i never knew looking back on the laughs would make me cry 35. sometimes it’s hard to know what haunts you more, the memories of her, or the memories of how happy you used to be 36. it’s not that your life sucks, it’s just you done want to think that it doesn’t 37. love never ends, it’s the strength to try that does 38. silence can be just another word for pain 39. not everything lasts forever, people change, people grow apart. don’t force anything 40. absence makes the heart grow stronger 41. it ain’t about how hard you can hit.. it’s about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward. How much you can take and keep moving forward, that’s how winning is done 42. tomorrow is never promised 43. the most painful thing isn’t a cut or a broken bone, it’s seeing memories slowly become memories 44. better to have a short life doing what you love, than a long life living miserably 45. when a man loves a woman she becomes his strength 46. pay close attention to the people who don’t clap when you win 47. if your the smartest person in the room then your in the wrong room 48. a great future never requires a great past 49. everyone is the hero of their own story 50. the only time you should look back is to see how far you’ve come 51. there’s four things you can never get back, the word after it’s said, the moment after its missed, time after it’s gone and trust after it’s lost 52. they say you never knew what you had until it’s gone.... truth is, you just never thought you’d lose it 53. think of it like this, it hurts to let go... but sometimes it hurts more to hold on 54. out of all the things we learn in school, no one teaches us how to love ourselves 55. there comes a time in life, where you realise that nothing will ever be the same. And you realise that from now on, time will be divided in two parts, before this.. and after this 56. it takes absence to value presence 57. it’s not about the happy ending, maybe it’s about the story 58. it’s crazy how after so much, you become strangers again 59. words may sting, but silence is what breaks the heart 60. sometimes it’s not the person you miss, it’s the feeling you had when you were with them.. 61. in life there’s the people that tear you down, and the ones that build you up. but in the end, you’ll thank them both 62. you know a million words won’t bring them back, and you’ll know because you tried, neither would a million tears, and you’ll know... because you cried 63. the worst feeling is never being lonely, it’s being forgotten by someone, you’d never forget 64. you’ll realise how you waste so much time on certain people, but in the end sometimes they weren’t worth a second of it 65. there is always going to be some truth behind every “just kidding”. some knowledge behind every “i don’t know” emotion behind every “i don’t care” and pain behind every “it’s okay” 66. being happy is a very personal thing and it really has nothing to do with anybody else 67. don’t let something that’s long gone, control you. it’s time to let go 68. it’s amazing how one day someone walks into the life, and suddenly you don’t know how you every lived without them 69. someone once asked me if i knew you a million and one memories flashed through my mind.. but i just said i used to 70. at the end of the day, your not always gonna say and do the right things. and that’s fine, your not here to be perfect, your here to be real 71. going back to a relationship is like rewatching a movie, and hoping for a different ending 72. the worst kind of sad, is not being able to explain why 73. Life is the most difficult exam. Many people fail because they try to copy others. Not realizing that everyone has a different question on their paper 74. the difference between, like, love and in love is the same difference between, for now, for a while.. and forever 75. everyone can make you smile, but not everyone can make you happy 76. the most difficult part of moving on, is accepting the other person already did 77. it’s sad how the people you were once so close with. can become just another person you don’t know, not their just a stranger with your secrets 78. one day someone will break you so bad.. you will become unbreakable 79. you can close your eyes to things you don’t want to see, but you can never close your heart to things you don’t want to feel 80. if you think photos aren’t so important, wait until they’re all you have left 81. giving someone another chance, is like giving them another bullet, because the first one missed 82. the truth is.. we don’t mature with years, we mature with damage 83. consider how hard it is to change yourself, then you’ll realise what little chance you had in changing others. 84. everyone has a story, and everyone has something that changed them. so never judge someone by the chapter you walked in on 85. in life sometimes there is no next time. No timeouts, no second chances. sometimes it is now or never, things change, friends leave. and life doesn’t stop for anybody 86. can you remember who you were, before the world told you who you should be? 87. it’s sad how you can go from speaking to someone non-stop, to never speaking to them again, in an instant, it’s like you could have just stayed strangers 88. it’s important to realise you can miss something, but not want it back 89. your current situation, is not your final destination 90. it’s never to late to be what you might’ve been 91. you start with such a simple hello, but end with such a complicated good bye 92. in order to move on, you need to understand why you felt what you did, and why you no longer need to feel it 93. telling the truth and making someone cry, is better than telling a lie.. and making someone smile 94. it’s not the goodbyes that hurt, but the flashbacks that follow 95. some would say people who say it is what it is are dangerous, i say those people have just been hurt to the point where they no longer care 96. if you don’t go after what you want. you’ll never have it. if you don’t ask, the answer is always no and if you don’t step forward, your always in the same place 97. live today the way you want because nothing else is more real than the moment you have in your hands 98. people come and go, but life is simply about... seeing who cares enough to stay 99. one of the most messed up things the world will ever do to you, is let you meet the right person. at the wrong time 100. apologise for your mistakes not your feelings

https://www.reddit.com/r/quotes/comments/n0o67m/i_have_made_a_list_of_quotes_from_movies_and_from/?utm_source=ifttt

#IFTTT #reddit

3 notes · View notes

i-really-do · 3 years

Text

I want to get back into writing and what better way to start with my guilty pleasure Yu-Gi-Oh 5D’s? I’ll be adding new one shots or whatever from time to time. I hope you have as much fun reading as I have writing.

Enjoy!

Prompt: Person A is a customer who is obsessed with the way Person B, a barista at a local coffee shop, makes their pumpkin spiced latte every morning.

By @olicitytropes

Don’t throw me away

Every breath she took built small clouds around her face. She put her scarf further up her face. It was only October and she already felt the ice creeping up her bones. Every autumn she promised herself she would go back to Italy. At least for a week. And every winter she barely scraped by. Her nose hurt when she sniffed. She could imagine how she looked. A woman tucked away under a jacket and a coat on top of that and a scarf which hid nearly her whole face. Her hands were in some thick cloth gloves. They made her hands at least 2 or 3 sizes bigger. And she had boots that reached all the way up to her knees. The siberian marcher. That was her nickname every fucking winter. What can you do when you are used to much gentler autumn and winter days. In Italy winters meant 10 degrees plus not 30 degree minus. Cordelia let out a deep sigh and regretted it in the next second. Her lungs filled with the icy air and it burned her inside out. The urge to cough rose quickly. She held it back. The burning cold air wobbled inside of her. Finally she caved. The coughing got so bad she had to stop on the street and just let it out. It felt like minutes until she could walk again. With her gloved hand she smeared across her face. She could feel all sorts of sticky stuff. Disgusted with herself she wept everything on her coat. But she could still feel something on her face. So she kept rubbing until she was certain it was gone. Well as certain as someone with near frostbites could be. She put her scarf back on and kept walking. The only good thing about this freaking weather was she could get any hold drink and not feel bad about the few bucks. Especially now shortly before Halloween she could get all the pumpkin spice latte. The barista was a nice plus. Just thinking of him made Cordelia a bit warmer. His hair was the best of him. It had the same orange colour as literal pumpkins and it was so messy. It didn’t seem like he ever combed it. She really wanted to touch it. A smirk formed under Cordelia's scarf. But she would have to be fast, because the staff would change in a few minutes. Reflexively she looked at her wrist. Her watch was buried under a ton of clothes. Forcing another sigh down her throat she began to walk faster. Finally she reached the entrance. There was barely anybody in there. Just the barista, his blonde coworker and two coffee drinkers who practically lived in their newspaper. Cordelia pushed the door open. The bell above made a faint tingle. The baristas were in the middle of a conversation and Cordelia nearly felt rude for interrupting it. When they heard the bell both turned and put on their best customer-is-always-right smile. Other than the forced smile you would never guess that they had been here the whole night. Well maybe they weren’t but the shop had insane operating hours so she just assumed. “Oh wow did we get hit with a cold front in the last hour?”, the orange haired barista jocked. Cordelia never learned his name.

Well, you could warm me up.

With a crooked grin she shoved the scarf a bit down. The warmth of the store burnt on her ice cold skin. “I can’t help it, this weather is a serious threat to my health”, Cordelia's voice was throughty and she sounded like a kids cartoon. Both baristas looked at Cordelia as if she summoned an ancient marshmallow in front of their faces. She tried her best to clear her throat. “Anyway”, said the orange haired man, “ehhh, you get a Pumpkin Spice Latte, right?”

Yeah, I’m THAT basic.

Cordelia noded. She didn’t dare to say another word. “Coming right up!” She moved over to the blonde one and paid for her drink. While she paid with her card, which she had already prepared, she spied over to the other worker. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, but whenever he prepared a drink he put a tiny bit extra effort into it. The way he slid across the floor to get the cup was the best and worst part of her day. Best, because she got to see him. Worst, because this was literally a highlight. With a raised eyebrow the blond man looked down on her. He was at least one head taller than her. The man towered over her and everyone else. She didn’t notice the look he gave her, her attention still rested on the orange haired man. If Cordelia had any guts she would ask for his name. But Cordelia didn’t have those. Instead she just starred. As he poured the drink into a plastic cup the pumpkin scent filled the room. Everything got soaked. She unconsciously bit her lip in anticipation. Other than him working there was no sound or at least no sound which Cordelia paid any attention to. The man turned around for a second, smiled at her and looked at his co-worker. She couldn’t place his facial expression. Was he pleading? “Say you don’t come from here, do you?”, the blond man’s voice took her out of the trance she basically was in. It took her a few seconds to register him. “Mh, eh no I-I grew up in Italy”, the stupid stammering came back. It always did, whenever she got surprised. She made a fist with one of her hands, well she tried to, but the cloth was simply too thick. Her fingers barely touched each other. “Oh, Italy! Never been there. How is it?” “A lot warmer, but not as friendly as here.” A smile formed on his face: “So why do you torture yourself in this weather?”

Because I REALLY want to get into the pants of your co-worker.

“At first studying, and now work. Beggars can’t be choosers”, she shrugged. “Well it’s nice to have such loyal customers especially at this hour”, the orange haired man walked over with her pumpkin spice latte in his hands. In his other hand he still had the pen. “You really don’t have to write my name on the cup. I mean”, she gestured around, “who else could be getting a latte right now?” “Haha, it’s basically muscle memory at this point. Besides, Cordelia is a beautiful name.”

Show SOME guts!

She smiled at him brightly. At this point she would always run. How often was she at a similar point? Maybe a dozen times. Nothing would ever change. She would walk out that door. Not a tiny bit closer to learning his name or anything about him. Cordelia would always stay the same. Except when she didn’t. “Say, I never asked for your names. Would you mind telling me?”, her voice was shaking a bit. But she did it. She asked THE question. Both looked surprised. “Sure, I’m Jack and this is Crow”, the blonde one spoke. Crow looked, smirked at her and his eyes seemed bigger than before. “Jack, Crow”, she nodded at both of them”, the morning is a pleasure with baristas like you. See you tomorrow.” As a farewell she held the cup high and cheered to them. In the next second she pulled the scarf up her face and walked out the door. Just as she was walking out the next shift walked in. Cordelia stayed and held the door open. It was a red haired woman and a black haired guy with yellow streaks. She always wondered if they were coloured or natural. Both smiled politely. Their eyes were nearly closed and the woman yawned while she walked to the back of the store. Behind Cordelia she could hear Jack and Crow whispering. She could not make out the words. Cordelia didn’t look back. If the next shift was already there she had to move it. Otherwise she would come late to the morning huddle. And her boss was always pissed when he had to wait for someone. With big steps she made her way through the people who slowly emerged from their hibernation. ------- A big sigh left her lips as she finally dropped into her office chair. Cordelia was tempted to kick off her shoes and call it a day. But it was barely 9 am. She made it on time. But she had to run a few meters and that really sucked all of her life out of her. Her only saving grace was another co worker who came in late. Otherwise the boss would have roasted her. As she sipped on the latte a loud gurgling noise came from it. The smell of pumpkin vanished completely. Now only the stench of plastic remained. When did she drink all of that? Disappointed she put the drink at the edge of her desk. The cleaning lady was going to come through any minute and she was nice enough to throw it away immediately. Without looking Cordelia pulled out her laptop, started it, put in her headphones and put on her reading glasses. Within seconds she was working on some numbers. Her fingers flew across the keyboard as she entered new numbers and deleted some old ones. This was her zone. She could work for hours like this. The time would fly by and then she could get home, shower and- “Excuse me.” Cordelia nearly jumped out of her chair as a hand tapped her shoulder.

Motherf-

She pulled on the cord and her earphones popped out. The music was faintly hearable. Some stupid love song was playing. The cleaning lady looked at her a bit frightened. With a sharp breath Cordelia let go of the tension and she hoped it would be done soon. “What is it?”, the words still came out harsher than she wanted. She formed a smile, but it felt fake so she quickly dropped it. “I-I just wanted to ask if you saw the message on the cup”, the cleaning lady held the empty cup up.

Probably my name, you…

“What message do you mean?” The cleaning lady smiled at her. “You might want to keep it.” Before Cordelia could protest the cup was shoved into her hands and the lady scooted off. “Okay what’s so special?”, she murmured to herself. As she turned to the message she saw there were two lines. The first one was short and the second one long. Cordelia’s eyes got wide. Within seconds her face turned red she could feel the heat that suddenly radiated from her cheeks. And a small giggle escaped her lips. The best present of the year. And she nearly threw it away. Without thinking she pulled out her phone. Her fingers were slippery and she had to double check the number on the screen. She quickly saved the number and let the phone slip into her pocket. Right now she couldn’t text. Her boss was pissed enough as it was. But lunch was coming quickly. With a big stupid grin on her face she returned her attention to her work. At some point she started to hum and time didn’t move quite like it should have. ----- Once it was finally time for her lunch she slumped back. Her earphones already laid on the table and her glasses joined them after a second. She practically threw them. The last 3 hours felt like a whole work week. The time barely moved, because she was very deep in her thoughts and still managed to look at the clock every other second. Her work was boring as always. The thing that occupied her mind was: What would she write? “Hi” ?“The frozen italian girl here” ?“Could I come over and you warm me up?” So many possibilites to fuck this up. Her coworkers dissolved around her. Nobody stayed in the building. Everybody went out. Well everyone except Cordelia. Slipping into her 2 layers was too much of a hassle for a 45 minute break. She pulled out her phone and nervously tapped on it. The screen looked like a disco. Going on and out in seconds. She still had no idea what to write, but she didn’t want to wait any longer. Well, she could simply call. An evil grin spread across her face.

Why not go all in and make a video call? What’s the worst that could happen?

She pushed the images that crept into her mind down way down. If that should happen she would need to find a new coffee shop. Or even better a new place to work. But she was pretty certain that wouldn’t happen. At least she hoped. God what was she thinking? Cordelia had made up her mind and walked into the bathroom. Fixed her hair and got rid of some slightly smeared makeup. Next she scouted a nice spot where she wouldn’t be bothered. She decided on one of the break rooms. It had a nice painting on the wall.

Maybe he will think I have a life outside of the coffee shop and work. Haha. Who am I kidding?

With one last exhale she started the call. Ringing once Ringing twice Ringing th- “Give me a second”, that was Crow’s voice followed by some rumbling. Nothing could be seen on screen. After a few seconds a light flashed across the screen a strand of his orange hair came into frame. “I didn’t expect a video”, his voice was barely audible but he sounded impressed. Well at least that’s what Cordelia heard. She just smiled awkwardly at the camera. Crow pulled something over his head and then he finally picked up the phone. He looked more sleepy than a few hours ago. His hair was tangled and messier than before. But his smile was still the same. Bright and crooked. For a second she felt her cheeks getting all hot again. “Were you not afraid you could see...you know?”, he walked around the room and kept looking away from the camera. There was some noise in his background, but Cordelia couldn’t hear anything clearly. “Well if I had seen HIM, I could have easily decided if we should skip the dating part and go straight to…”

WHAT THE HELL JUST FELL OUT OF MY MOUTH?

Cordelias hand went up to her face and she covered her mouth. WHOOPS. Crow’s end was silent, but his phone shook violently. The background noises were dead as well. “If you are cursing at me or something, I can’t hear you, you are muted.” In a split second hell broke loose on the other end. Cordelia looked unsure. She couldn’t make out a single noise. After a few moments it got quiter. There was laughter. So many different people laughing.

Oh no.

Crow came back into frame. In his eyes were tears and he still was shaking from all the laughter. “Well, eh, I don’t mean to brag but.... I’d prefer we don’t skip the dating thing, because man....” He wiped a tear out of his face. “If you don’t take her I’ll do it!”, a voice from somwhere in the background shouted. “Shut up”, Crow looked away from the camera, still laughing. “So what do you say?”, he asked Cordelia. Cordelia suppressed a grin as she answered: “Coffee?” The smile on his face froze a bit and he looked like a wet cat. “Geez, that was a joke.” He immediately sighed with relief: “You’re a little jokester, he. I know a comedy club. I might get us tickets for this weekend.” “Sounds good” “Perfect! Let’s meet at the Greenhill cinema. Do you know where that is?” “Sure. See you.” “See ya” The call ended abruptly. Cordelia bit on her lip. That was way different than what she had imagined. Way better... “Task failed successfully”, Cordelia giggled at herself.

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

Well there you have it. My first one shot in FOREVER. (literal years) I would be very happy to hear your opinion! Thanks for reading.

Notes:

Yeah Jack is pretty ooc because he is ACTUALLY useful working. That's what AU's are for.

#5ds #ygo5ds #ygo 5ds #oneshot #fanfic #crow hogan #oc #jack atlas #jack atlus #one shot #coffee shop au #coffeshopau #barista!crow #barista!jack #writing

3 notes · View notes

secretgiftsforshaman · 3 years

Text

I was an emotional vampire when I was a child. The memories and pieces of evidence have been slowly rising to the surface, and I think I’ve finally pieced them together. While I still have my moments, I’m (usually) much less of a vampire now than I once was. I haven’t examined how, exactly, I managed to become less vampiric over time without consciously seeking to do so. Maybe I just got used to feeling unfulfilled and unloved and accepted that that’s how it would be. Maybe I just kept putting it off until some future day when hopefully it’d be better somehow. I need to reflect on this more, but right now I just need to get this out.

My grandmother often smothered my mom with affection when she was little – it was one of grandma’s ways of trying to fill her own unmet emotional needs, by treating mom like she was her own personal little cuddly teddy-bear play dolly, and expecting the same sickly-sweet treatment back from my mom, even as a toddler, even when she was her own kind of ravenous black hole and only doled out that “affection” because she expected something in return. I think that mom then reacted to that treatment by swinging to the other extreme when I came along, being overly distant, withholding, and resentful of my emotional needs (they reminded her too much of her own – as her firstborn I was her first experience of another person being 1000% dependent on her, and I think it triggered all kinds of shit from her relationship with her own mother, both where I was her and she was grandma, and where she was herself and I was grandma) and she didn’t want to smother me with affection the way she had been. However or whyever it came about, she definitely went too far in that opposite direction. I have no memories of feeling cherished by my mother, or of cuddling together without her acting resentfully and sending me back to my own bed as soon as possible, or of her ever expressing belief or confidence in me and my abilities (part the root of why I struggle to perform any new or intimidating task, I think). As I’ve said before and will keep saying aloud until I have finished integrating, processing, and healing it: I was emotionally neglected, abandoned, and abused, and sometimes I still am. While I’ve lived in material privilege and had all of my basic physical/survival needs met with some material luxuries to boot, I never felt like I had enough of the love, acceptance, and touch that I needed from the very earliest age. This emotional connection is a vital nutrient for the soul, the psyche, and the body – and an emotionally starving child in need of attention, affection, and approval will latch onto anything and anyone that feels like it/they can give them a scrap or two with which to survive. I’ve felt like a gaping, needy, black hole of pain and rejection eating myself from the inside out my entire life and never really been able to explain why until now.

There are all manner of embarrassing memories I’ve been dredging up of how I acted as a kid, and I don’t have enough conscious detail to explain them like stories, but I can feel the energetic reality of all those episodes. They contain the same patterns and themes, they stretch back as far as I remember, and they occur at every age of childhood, adolescence, and young adulthood without intermission. Time and again I latched onto people, be they other kids, warm or parental adults, classmates, crushes, even random strangers: just anybody who was energetically compatible with or susceptible to my ravenous, desperate needs that I might be able to tag along after, attempt to adopt or ingratiate myself to, or mooch off of. If it worked, it worked poorly, and it didn’t work for very long, and as a result very few of my peers wanted to be friends with me for most of my life. I’ve explained away this ‘social awkwardness’ pattern as just part of my Asperger’s for years, but I’ve been coming to realize that while part of it may have been autism-typical misunderstandings of other people’s social cues, the other part of me was manipulative and leech-like and would overstep other people’s boundaries because I didn’t know how to connect to people and receive the attention I needed otherwise (because my own social boundaries weren’t respected – I rarely had boundary honoring behavior modeled for me at home).

This helps account for why I’ve felt so rejected from all quarters. Of course nobody wants to ask the emotional vampire to play with them, or invite them over to hang out, or flirt with them. Of course I fell hard for the narrative that the right romantic knight-in-shining-armor would feed that gaping hungry maw of lovelessness inside of me and got hyperfixated on finding a boy, and later a man, to help me fill in that hole. And of course I am now afraid of expressing my attraction to anyone, especially romantically or sexually: I am both afraid of mockery and rejection, but I also struggle with distinguishing intense attraction from my inner soul-sucking emotional leech.

This is a big part of why I am terrified of expressing my needs and desires: I have hurt people and rightfully driven them away from me with my behavior and treatment of them in the past, and the conflict between wanting that connection with someone, particularly a potential partner, and latching onto them in a way that hurts/upsets/repulses them is what has been agonizing me about reaching out and starting to flirt and date again. The newer loneliness of grief and widowhood feels all too similar to that old gaping hole of emotional neglect, and I fear that I can’t accept ANY connection, affection, touch, or love to fill my need without hurting the person giving them to me. Even in our relationship, while I have gradually become more secure and trusting, I think that this is the root fear that has made me worry at times that I have asked too much from you or taken too much from you.

Maybe I stopped being a vampire because it didn’t get me what I needed so I just stopped doing it, but (as I’m typing this and reflecting on it and realizing) I think I mostly just drew the conclusion that there was something inherently unworthy of love and acceptance within me, and became ashamed of the misguided ways that I had tried to seek out love and acceptance. I started to accept that I’d be better off not trying because if so many people had rejected me then it must be because they could all see my obvious unworthiness, so it would be foolish and pathetic for me to seek something that would never be mine – that was so laughably beyond my reach – like love or intimacy. Let alone acting like someone could actively desire or want me – that would be so beyond the pale as to draw ridicule. At one point or another I’ve managed to convince myself that asking someone for anything (friendship, attention, reassurance, compliments, a glass of water, I mean ANYTHING) is actually me just trying to manipulate or leech off of that person, whether it’s through vampirism or a bald-faced request. So the only solution to this mess is to fulfill as much of my needs and desires as I can for myself, and reject the rest because turning to another person for assistance will only harm them, drive them away, or both.

I know that my younger, starving child self was only acting out of instinct to survive the neglect and abuse that she suffered – that she didn’t know any better and she never fed on anybody in malice or out of any intent to do harm. But I’m afraid of my own inner child, of my own ongoing neediness and hunger for connection. I’m terrified that I’ll hurt someone by taking too much from them, that I’ll ask for more than they want to give, that nobody will be able to meet me emotionally. Or WANT to meet me emotionally. I’m trying to hold out hope that my future mate, wherever he his, will want to love me – will not see love as the scarce, precious commodity that my inner traumatized child experienced it as, but that he (and I) can and will both treat love like the bottomless fountain that it is. That it will bring him joy and pleasure to pour buckets of love back into me, that he’ll bail me in when I’m feeling hollow and dry, and I will relish the privilege of doing the same for him. My closest friends and I have begun to do something like this with each other, and it is such a healing thing.

I am trying to keep faith in my worthiness. I am trying to forgive myself for acting as best as I could in terrible situations where I felt next to powerless. I hope that I can disentangle my inner bloodsucker from my honest needs, learn to express my desire and attraction to others in harmless and healthy ways, no matter how intense they feel, and that I can reprogram all that shit in my head about needing to emotionally starve myself because to slake that thirst would hurt someone.

It’s 1:30 AM and I desperately need sleep. And maybe some garlic, holy water, or a crucifix.

Thank you for loving and accepting and holding space for me and all of my mess. I sincerely hope that you never feel unappreciated – you do so much for me just by existing as a good, honorable man. Your presence is a healing balm in and of itself. And you are this way because of your integrity and character. Connecting to your energy is calming and soothing even when you aren’t able listen or respond. Never forget how good and powerful you are. I believe in you and everything that you embody and do.

All my love,

My Vulnerable Parts

1 note · View note

coronavirusremediationservices · 4 years

Text

With no end to the pandemic in sight, coronavirus fatigue grips America

Gabe Rice began sheltering in his suburban Phoenix home with his wife and three youngest children in March. They worked remotely, learned remotely and put social events on hold to hunker down alongside much of the country.

It was challenging and frustrating, but, Rice initially assumed, temporary. It seemed like a plausible plan to help the nation get the pandemic under control within a couple of months.

But Arizona’s economic reopening in May, urged by Gov. Doug Ducey (R), was soon followed by a spike in coronavirus infections in June, which became a terrible surge in hospitalizations and deaths by July.

Then came August, and the devastating realization for many Americans that the pandemic, which has killed at least 159,000 people across the country and sickened more than five million, is far from over.

“It’s difficult when you think you have a light at the other end of the tunnel to look forward to, and then all of a sudden you realize it’s a train,” said Rice, 44, a program coordinator at Arizona State University.

An exhausted, exasperated nation is suffering from the effects of a pandemic that has upended society on a scale and duration without parallel in living memory.

The Rice family and millions of other Americans are wrestling with difficult questions about how to juggle school, pay their bills and look after their mental and physical health.

Parents lie awake, their minds racing with thoughts of how to balance work with their newfound role as home-schoolers. Frontline health workers are bone tired, their nerves frayed by endless shifts and constant encounters with the virus and its victims. Senior citizens have grown weary of isolation. Unemployed workers fret over jobs lost, benefits that are running out, rent payments that are overdue. Minority communities continue to shoulder the disproportionate burden of the contagion’s impact, which in recent weeks has killed an average of about 1,000 people a day.

Buck Horton reopened his club, Wo-de’s Chill Spot, in Harvey, La., only to be forced into a second closure — by the fire marshal’s office, which cited violations of Louisiana’s coronavirus restrictions. Buck Horton reopened his club, Wo-de’s Chill Spot, in Harvey, La., only to be forced into a second closure — by the fire marshal’s office, which cited violations of Louisiana’s coronavirus restrictions. (Emily Kask for The Washington Post) The metaphor of a marathon doesn’t capture the wearisome, confounding, terrifying and yet somehow dull and drab nature of this ordeal for many Americans, who have watched leaders fumble the pandemic response from the start. Marathons have a defined conclusion, but 2020 feels like an endless slog — uphill, in mud.

Recent opinion polls hint at the deepening despair. A Gallup survey in mid-July showed 73 percent of adults viewed the pandemic as growing worse — the highest level of pessimism recorded since Gallup began tracking that assessment in early April. Another Gallup Poll, published Aug. 4, found only 13 percent of adults are satisfied with the way things are going overall in the country, the lowest in nine years.

A July Kaiser Family Foundation poll echoed that, finding that a majority of adults think the worst is yet to come. Fifty-three percent said the crisis has harmed their mental health.

In a podcast released Thursday, former first lady Michelle Obama directly addressed the mental toll, saying she has struggled with the quarantines, the government’s response to the pandemic and the persistent reminders of systemic racism that have led to nationwide protests.

“I know that I am dealing with some form of low-grade depression,” she said.

Historians say that not even the 1918 flu pandemic, which killed an estimated 675,000 people in the United States, had the same kind of all-encompassing economic, social and cultural impact.

“One of the biggest differences between this virus and [the 1918] influenza is the duration,” said John Barry, author of “The Great Influenza: The Story of the Deadliest Pandemic in History.”

With coronavirus, he said, the incubation period is longer, patients with symptoms tend to be sick longer, and many take longer to recover. Barry said leaders did not make sufficiently clear early on the simple epidemiological truth that this would be a painfully drawn-out event.

“Part of the frustration and disappointment and depression, frankly, is because of the expectation that we’d be through this by now,” he said.

President Trump repeatedly promised a quick resolution. He conjured the image of church pews packed by Easter. The White House recommended 15 days of restrictions. That was then extended by 30 days, to the end of April. On Thursday, Trump said a vaccine could be ready by Election Day, Nov. 3 — a date well in advance of what his administration’s own experts think is likely.

But the virus has repeatedly shown that it has its own timetable. The first wave of shutdowns helped reverse the frightening trend lines of March and early April but came nowhere close to crushing the opportunistic pathogen. And now the season of the pandemic is indisputably the year of the pandemic.

“This will be a long, long haul unless virtually everybody — or a very, very high percentage of the population, including the young people — take very seriously the kind of prevention principles that we’ve been talking about,” Anthony S. Fauci, the director of the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases, said in an interview.

“It is within our power and within our will to really get it down to a level that’s low enough that we can do many of the things that would get our economy going again,” he added. “There will be a long slog if everybody doesn’t pitch in.”

Not everyone is experiencing the same level of stress, and everyone’s pandemic struggles differ. Any “essential” worker exposed to high-risk conditions day after day has more urgent concerns than someone merely stuck at home and missing out on summer barbecues.

In Cadiz, Ky., Stephanie Grant has endured one of the most trying years of her life. The 42-year-old lost her job at the end of April. For more than two months, as she waited for unemployment benefits to kick in, she fell behind on her car payment, utilities, insurance and rent for the apartment she shares with her two teenage daughters.

She drained most of her savings trying to remain afloat. She applied for jobs at gas stations and dollar stores. She pursued becoming a coronavirus contract tracer, but that also didn’t come through.

“I could not get a job anywhere,” she said. “I want to get back out there and work.”

As her stress and her bills mounted, Grant turned to a Kentucky nonprofit focused on housing and homelessness. The group helped her catch up on her rent, and the arrival of her unemployment payments in late July have allowed her to catch her breath. For now.

“Right now, I’m wary. It seems like we are falling apart. The stress, the tensions, everything that’s going on. … People are scared,” she said.

And many people are bored, eager to socialize. In Harvey, La., Marlon “Buck” Horton operates a popular bar, Wo-de’s Chill Spot. But Horton’s bar permit was suspended in late July after complaints about what the state fire marshal described as “a large, non-socially distanced crowd.”

Horton, 39, denied the fire marshal’s report that he served alcohol indoors. He said people simply eager to grab a beer crowded outside, and a passerby posted a video of the gathering on Facebook, leading to the crackdown.

“We’re stuck. We don’t have assistance, and we still have landlords,” Horton said last week. At a hearing soon after, the suspension was lifted when he agreed to pay a fine and abide by the state’s coronavirus rules.

Although some states battered by the virus have made progress against it in recent weeks, it has infiltrated small towns with little previous exposure.

In Mississippi, George County is among eight counties that have been told to delay school reopenings for grades seven to 12 until Aug. 17 because of high rates of virus transmission. Superintendent of Education Wade Whitney realized how serious the pandemic had become locally when a co-worker in an adjacent office became severely ill and was hospitalized for five days.

“When that person catches it, it kind of hits you right between the eyes,” Whitney said. “Small-town George County is not immune.”

That co-worker was Matt Caldwell, the director of operations for the school district and the former head football coach at the high school. Caldwell, a big man who played offensive line for the Mississippi State Bulldogs in the early 1990s, had assumed it would be no big deal if he was infected.

“Boy, was I wrong,” he said. “I definitely underestimated it. I tell everybody I talk to it’s a real thing. Those people who think its just a hoax and all that — I know this, I wouldn’t wish what I went through on anybody.”

Jennifer Nuzzo, an epidemiologist at Johns Hopkins University, has become an oft-quoted expert during the coronavirus pandemic. But she’s also a mother who is dismayed that her son Miles, 7, who should be entering second grade in a Maryland public school, will start the year with online-only instruction.

“I’m absolutely devastated. It’s not learning,” Nuzzo said.

The Washington Nationals host the New York Mets on Aug. 4 in an otherwise empty Nationals Park. The Washington Nationals host the New York Mets on Aug. 4 in an otherwise empty Nationals Park. (Jonathan Newton/The Washington Post) This is not just back-to-school season, it’s also the time when many counties and states hold their annual fairs. Those are being canceled right and left. Professional sports is now back on air, but in most cases without fans in the stadiums and arenas. Major League Baseball is trying to keep its revived season intact after several outbreaks of infection.

And there are the ordinary cancellations so many people have endured — birthdays not celebrated, weddings and funerals carried out over Zoom, trips not taken, loved ones not visited.

Joseph and Kelli Crawford of Gilbert, Ariz., had planned to travel to London in April for their 10th anniversary and for her sister’s 30th birthday. Everything was booked: Flights, lodging, tickets to concerts and plays.

They rescheduled for March 2021. But now they worry that even that might be optimistic.

“I’m crossing my fingers. But I’m also not going to be packing my bags,” said Kelli, 33.

A flight attendant, she also agreed to an 18-month voluntary separation from her work. She’ll keep her health insurance and part of her salary.

But she won’t be bored. All four of the Crawfords’ children, ages 4, 5, 10 and 13, are home. The three oldest have begun remote classes. Their 4-year-old daughter has been aching to start preschool since she saw her older brother do so last year. But there is no virtual preschool, so that plan is on hold.

“It’s one thing for the adults to be lonely,” Kelli said. “But these poor kids, I get so heartbroken about the loneliness they’re experiencing.”

There are glimmers of hope for those staggered by this dire moment: The vaccine development for the novel coronavirus appears to be moving at unprecedented speed. There are promising therapeutics that may lower the mortality rate of those who become severely ill.

The pandemic will someday come to an end, experts promise, because all pandemics have. And though SARS-CoV-2 is a slippery and unpredictable virus, it has not proved as deadly as the 1918 influenza virus that swept across much of the planet.

“In 1918, practically every city in the country ran out of coffins,” Barry said. Victims commonly died at home. “All these things led to much greater fear, which meant that people were also more willing to put up with anything that might help.”

Howard Markel, a medical historian at the University of Michigan, said that though similarities exist between today’s outbreak and the influenza pandemic a century ago, American society was different at that time.

Americans had experienced epidemics of cholera, diphtheria and other diseases in the not-so-distant past. They were accustomed to children dying of smallpox, whooping cough and other diseases.

Rep. T.S. McMillan, a Democrat from Charleston, S.C., with two flappers, dances the Charleston in Washington in the 1920s. Rep. T.S. McMillan, a Democrat from Charleston, S.C., with two flappers, dances the Charleston in Washington in the 1920s. (Library of Congress) Unlike today, most Americans also had little confidence that a magic bullet would end the suffering and exasperation. “Another expectation of our era is the expectation that science will come up with a fix quickly,” Markel said. “None of us have the patience for lengthy processes. We live in an instant society.”

Still, Markel said, despite the seemingly endless nature of the current situation, history offers reasons for optimism. When the pandemic of 1918-1919 was over, for instance, people rebounded quickly.

“They went out and started dancing the Charleston, buying raccoon coats and buying stocks and bonds,” he said. “It went from zero to 60 in no time flat.”

This crisis, too, will pass.

“No question, epidemic fatigue or pandemic fatigue is real. We are experiencing it,” Markel said. “But throughout human history, there have been terrible pandemics and contagious threats. Every civilization, every nation, has come through to the other side. And we will, too.”

1 note · View note