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#bernie is dropping out again
backjustforberena · 2 years
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A cut bit of dialogue from Holby City “Parasite”
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tomorrowusa · 3 months
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Don't risk a rerun of the 2000 election.
In the first presidential election of the 21st century many deluded progressives voted for Green Party candidate Ralph Nader.
Their foolishness gave us eight years of George W. Bush who plagued the country with two recessions (including the Great Recession) and two wars (one totally unnecessary and one which could have been avoided if he heeded an intelligence brief 5 weeks before 9/11).
Oh yeah, Dubya also appointed one conservative and one batshit crazy reactionary to the US Supreme Court. Roberts and Alito are still there.
Paul Waldman of the Washington Post offers some thoughts.
Why leftists should work their hearts out for Biden in 2024
Ask a Democrat with a long memory what the numbers 97,488 and 537 represent, and their face will twist into a grimace. The first is the number of votes Ralph Nader received in Florida in 2000 as the nominee of the Green Party; the second is the margin by which George W. Bush was eventually certified the winner of the state, handing him the White House. Now, with President Biden gearing up for reelection, talk of a spoiler candidate from the left is again in the air. That’s unfortunate, because here’s the truth: The past 2½ years under Biden have been a triumph for progressivism, even if it’s not in most people’s interest to admit it. This was not what most people expected from Biden, who ran as a relative moderate in the 2020 Democratic primary. His nomination was a victory for pragmatism with its eyes directed toward the center. But today, no one can honestly deny that Biden is the most progressive president since at least Lyndon B. Johnson. His judicial appointments are more diverse than those of any of his predecessors. He has directed more resources to combating climate change than any other president. Notwithstanding the opposition from the Supreme Court, his administration has moved aggressively to forgive and restructure student loans.
Three years ago the economy was in horrible shape because of Trump's mishandling of the pandemic. Now unemployment is steadily below 4%, job creation continues to exceed expectations, and wages are rising as unions gain strength. The post-pandemic, post-Afghan War inflation rate has receded to near normal levels; people in the 1970s would have sold their souls for a 3.2% (and dropping) inflation rate. And many of the effects of "Bidenomics" have yet to kick in.
And in a story that is criminally underappreciated, his administration’s policy reaction to the covid-induced recession of 2020 was revolutionary in precisely the ways any good leftist should favor. It embraced massive government intervention to stave off the worst economic impacts, including handing millions of families monthly checks (by expanding the child tax credit), giving all kids in public schools free meals, boosting unemployment insurance and extending health coverage to millions.
It worked. While inflation rose (as it did worldwide), the economy’s recovery has been blisteringly fast. It took more than six years for employment rates to return to what they were before the Great Recession hit in 2008, but we surpassed January 2020 jobs levels by the spring of 2022 — and have kept adding jobs ever since. To the idealistic leftist, that might feel like both old news and a partial victory at best. What about everything supporters of Bernie Sanders have found so thrilling about the Vermont senator’s vision of the future, from universal health care to free college? It’s true Biden was never going to deliver that, but to be honest, neither would Sanders had he been elected president. And that brings me to the heart of how people on the left ought to think about Biden and his reelection.
Biden has gotten things done. The US economy is doing better than those of almost every other advanced industrialized country.
Our rivals China and Russia are both worse off than they were three years ago. And NATO is not just united, it's growing.
Sadly, we still need to deal with a far right MAGA cult at home who would wreck the country just to get its own way.
Biden may be elderly and unexciting, but that is one of the reasons he won in 2020. Many people just wanted an end to the daily drama of Trump's capricious and incompetent rule by tweet. And a good portion of those people live in places that count greatly in elections – suburbs and exurbs.
Superhero films seem to be slipping in popularity. Hopefully that's a sign that voters are less likely to embrace self-appointed political messiahs to save them from themselves.
Good governance is a steady process – not a collection of magic tricks. Experienced and competent individuals who are not too far removed from the lives of the people they represent are the best people to have in government.
Paul Waldman concludes his column speaking from the heart as a liberal...
I’ve been in and around politics for many years, and even among liberals, I’ve almost always been one of the most liberal people in the room. Yet only since Biden’s election have I realized that I will probably never see a president as liberal as I’d like. It’s not an easy idea to make peace with. But it suggests a different way of thinking about elections — as one necessary step in a long, difficult process. The further you are to the left, the more important Biden’s reelection ought to be to you. It might require emotional (and policy) compromise, but for now, it’s also the most important tool you have to achieve progressive ends.
Exactly. Rightwingers take the long view. It took them 49 years but they eventually got Roe v. Wade overturned. To succeed, we need to look upon politics as an extended marathon rather as one short sprint.
Republicans may currently be bickering, but they will most likely unite behind whichever anti-abortion extremist they nominate.
It's necessary to get the word out now that the only way to defeat climate-denying, abortion-restricting, assault weapon-loving, race-baiting, homophobic Republicans is to vote Democratic.
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jevilowo · 2 years
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The complete list of everything to happen in and around the 8th of September 2022:
Reigen became ultimate twink and dilf and milf and babygirl and hottest anime girl and
Sans vs Reigen for ultimate tumblr sexyman on twitter (Sans won by 420 votes)
Toby Fox wrote a fanfic about Sans vs Reigen (it's on twitter, it comes up if you google it)
Lea Michele can't read conspiracy
Also she debuts in Funny Girl
Splatoon 3 dropped
Enstars cover of Tell Your World dropped
2 year anniversary of Eric Trump calling Mob Psycho 100 leftist propaganda
Star Trek day
The Queen of England died
Trisha Paytas went into labour, but it was a false alarm
Kiwi Farms shut down
Don't Worry Darling drama
Dan and Phil made a video saying people gave them cocaine and celebrities wanted to have threesomes with them
Thurston Waffles died (rip)
Finding out they censored destiel many times
Bastille performed in Argentina
Mercury Retrograde (not sure what that is, but it's today apparently)
Out of touch Thursday and Felix Huaves (again, not sure what that means but someone reblogged with those tags so)
Bernie Sanders, P!NK, Ruby Bridges, Gaten Matarazzo and Martin Freeman's birthdays
MCR IN BOSTON BABEY
Danny Phantom graphic novel cover reveal (first dp content since 2008)
24th anniversary of the Pokemon anime broadcasting in the US
Warnuts first birthday/anniversary
Critical role massacred one of their player characters in the episode last night
Anniversary of sega dreamcast debut
Song for the new sonic game got released
New Pinocchio movie. And many other films and shows dropped on Disney Plus, due to it being disney plus day.
Comment if I missed anything
Update, I've edited this post like a million times, lmao. I'm honoured to be the keeper of events.
Update 2, here's all the polls Reigen has won so far, from a post by @blackberry-s0da
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Update 3, END OF REIGENSWEEP I REPEAT END OF REIGENSWEEP
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morning-star-joy · 8 months
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ahhh congrats on the 700 followers!!! 🇺🇸🇺🇸🦅🦅🦅 proud member of doni nation 🫡🫡🫡 🦅🦅🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸
okay in terms of drabbles may I please request ashwah universe drunk kisses........ i mean in my most humble of opinions, it just seems correct after joel not getting to kiss her last time he was drunk!!!
also....
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i am once again asking for some sub!Joel 🤲🤲🤲 I feel like this is maybe saying too much about me that it's the second time i'm requesting this BUT idc okay ashwah joel would ABSOLUTELY switch positions willingly and eagerly because he is a shameless simp!!!! so like just a crumb of ashwah sub!joel i beg 🤲🤲
literally no pressure to write either of these!!!!! and congrats again 💖💖
LOKJIUH!!! My god you made me laugh SO fucking hard with the doni nation and the EMOJIS BAHAHAH PLEASE!! And the Bernie meme, it's crazy how much I love you my friend. Heheheee I am once again taking your LOVELY request! And lucky for both of us, the muse was hella flowing, and I ended up incorporating drunk kisses and some ASHWAH sub!Joel. Hope you enjoy reading as much as I did writing!!! Love you so much and thank you for your support and for always making me smile and laugh!
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Pairing: Joel x F!Reader, established relationship, set in the ASHWAH universe
Warnings: 18+ MDNI Shameless Smut, unprotected p in v, drunk sex, fast desperate sex, dirty talk, grinding, dom!Reader, sub!Joel, Joel begging for it, creampie, pet names (sweetheart, darlin', mi luna for Reader, baby for Joel)
Wordcount: 1.4k
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“Joel—”
“C’mere, darlin’,” Joel mumbled as his lips sought yours again while you both stumbled through the front door of his house that was now your home as well, months after you had given into what had been building between you in front of his fireplace.
“Mm,” you hummed, head tilting back as you tried to pull away to close the door, but he was grabbing your hand and pulling you back to him, his tongue pushing into your mouth to kiss you sloppily, desperately, and you laughed, teeth clashing with his as you mumbled, “Joel. Joel. I need to close the door.”
Joel huffed as you managed to wiggle out of his grip, closing the front door before he pushed you right up against it, arms wrapping around your waist and pulling your body flush against his, your hips rolling forward by reflex when you felt the press of his erection through his jeans against your own.
You could taste the whiskey he had been drinking all night in his mouth, and you sighed, head tilting to the side to give him easier access as he pulled back to press open-mouthed kisses down your neck, tasting your skin with a quiet moan.
“You’re so fucking drunk,” you mumbled, even as your hips continue to roll against his, pulling more moans from deep within his chest as he grabbed your hips, guiding your grinding before he leaned up to rest his forehead against yours.
“So are you,” he muttered with a sly smirk, and you groaned, shaking your head at the memory his words brought to mind, of his moment of giving in to jealousy when you had gone on a date.
“You want me to put the skirt back on, Joel?” you whispered, smirking up at him as he tilted his head back with a moan at the picture you were painting. “Don’t have to wear anything under them this time. Just that little skirt bunched up around my waist and your big cock inside of me.”
“Fucking hell, sweetheart,” Joel groaned, ducking his head back down to kiss you with a new desperation. “Keep talking like that and you’re gonna make me cum in my goddamn jeans.”
“I’ll clean you up if you do,” you murmured, tracing his lips with your tongue, and he pulled back so fast you almost felt disappointed until he leaned over, wrapping his arms around your knees and throwing you up over his shoulder.
“Joel!” you cried out, laughter bubbling from your throat as you smacked his back and held on for dear life while he tried to walk towards the stairs but stumbled a few times. “Joel Miller, if you fucking drop me down these stairs I am going to end you.”
His laughter joined yours then, so deep and carefree that it made you feel warm with a happiness you’d never experienced before him.
Realizing he wasn’t going to make it up those steps, Joel turned, heading towards the living room to lean over and lay you gently, albeit a bit clumsily, onto the couch.
When he unbuttoned your jeans to tug them down with your panties before reaching for his own pants, you laughed again, smiling widely at his arched brow in question as you teased, “No more clothes off than necessary. Just like the good ol’ days, huh?”
Joel chuckled, shaking his head as he pushed his own pants down, pulling his cock free of its fabric constraints before leaning over you with a mumbled, “Shut up.”
But you were pulling back from him, rising from the couch and meeting his look of disappointed confusion with a cheeky grin as you pushed your bottoms down all the way, leaving them discarded on the floor as you murmured, “Sit back, cowboy. Let me take charge here.”
Joel’s eyes widened, and you could see his chest freeze in the same moment his breath caught audibly in his throat. Then he was adjusting himself to sit back on the couch, large brown gaze completely glazed over as you stepped forward, taking his cock in hand and leaning over to spit down onto it, feeling your pussy ache with a need to have him inside of you as he moaned, cock twitching just from the feeling of your saliva on it while you stroked it over him.
You climbed into his lap, lifting yourself up as you aligned him to your entrance, teasing yourself over him a few times, letting him stretch you a bit before pulling out and getting even more drunk off the way he started to writhe, mumbling incoherent things that grew louder with each pass of the head of his cock sliding just barely into your slick heat and then out again.
“Oh god, please,” Joel whispered, grabbing your hips tight in his large hands even as he didn’t try and direct you, didn’t rush you, just letting you have this moment of control. “Darlin’, fuck, please. I need to feel you, need to be inside you, mi luna, god—”
It was the affectionate nickname that had you giving in, sinking down onto him slowly and letting out a breathy sigh as Joel’s head fell back against the top of the couch, the loudest whimper you had ever heard from him lingering in the air as you rocked your hips down until you were fully seated.
“Jesus, fuck, goddammit,” Joel was muttering curses between fast, heavy breaths, and you knew he wouldn’t last long at all tonight.
So you set a fast and brutal pace, bouncing on him as you grabbed his chin, directing his face up so his eyes met yours, licking your lips as you whispered, “You like it when I put you in your place, Joel? Like it when I use your cock to get myself off?”
“Yes,” Joel whined, his hips rolling up to meet yours, and you felt his cock twitch, knowing he was about to cum from your seductive taunting and the way you were riding him.
But then he surprised you, reaching a hand down to place his thumb on your clit, rubbing quickly and making your hips jerk forward, your own mouth falling open with whimpers as your eyes squeezed shut, focusing on the way he could still work you so perfectly, even when he was nearly drunk out of his mind with alcohol and lust.
“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” you whispered, biting your lip as you rocked your hips desperately, losing any kind of pace as you felt your orgasm about to hit. “Gonna use your thumb to come all over your cock, baby, fuck!”
You gasped, eyes flashing open to stare up at the ceiling as your hips jerked forward, body overcome with the waves of an intense orgasm that almost made you miss what Joel was saying.
“I gotta—darlin’, fuck, please,” Joel was whimpering, and you blinked a few times, pulling your face back down to see him wild-eyed and desperate as he asked you, “Where?”
“Oh,” you sighed, leaning down to press your forehead against his as you whispered, “Cum inside me, Joel.”
You had barely said his name before he was bucking up into you, grunting loudly as his cock pulsed deep inside you, his cum filling you up in a way that only had happened that night in front of the fireplace, and a few other mornings when you both were far too sleepy and content to do otherwise.
His face leaned up, lips meeting yours in more sloppy kisses, the affection in them palpable and making you smile lazily as you melted into his embrace when he tugged you down to lay on the couch with him, his cock still inside you, keeping you full of his cum as he nuzzled his face against your neck.
Joel was mumbling something now, but it was practically gibberish, and he didn’t have the energy to keep you with him as you slid off of him, moving to go get a washcloth and clean yourselves up before you would have to find a way to get him upstairs into bed post drunken fuck.
When you did manage to get yourselves cleaned up and into bed, you snuggled into his chest, unable to help but smile as you hoped he’d let you take control like that again sometime.
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everything taglist: @darkroastjoel @thetriumphantpanda @sinsofsummers @dinsdjrn @cupofjoel @cavillscurls @tightjeansjavi
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gaypeopleeatchalk · 5 months
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Bing! (Chandler Bing x Male Reader)
It was another lovley day in New York, and our group was sitting in Monica and Rachel's apartment. 
"I mean, it's hard to enjoy a cup of ramen noodles after that. I mean, is that ridiculous? Can she believe she actually thought that?" Chandler asked. We all look at eachother before Rachel speaks up first. "Um... yeah" She laughs nervously under Chandler's gaze. "Well I mean, when I first met you, you know, I thought maybe you might possibly be." Chandler looks at her shocked. "You did?" "Yeah, but then you spent Phoebe's entire birthday party talking to my breasts, so I thought 'maybe not'" Chandler sets down his plate. "huh, did uh, did any of the rest of you guys think that when you first met me?" He asked the remainder of us. I coughed awkwardly and Phoebe and Monica replied saying they did. "Not me!" Joey assured. "Yeah, me neither. In college though, Susan Salidore did." Ross answers. "Well did you tell her I'm not?" My heart sank a bit at his words. Like I needed a reminder. "No" Ross replied, resuming eating. He paused again to say "Yeah, it's just cause I kinda wanted to go out with her too. So I told her you were actually seeing Bernie Spellman, who uh, also liked her so." I rolled my eyes. Joey highfived him. 
"Well, this is fascinating. So uh, what is it about me?" Chandler asked. "I don't know, cause you're smart and funny-" Chandler innterupts Phoebe "Ross and Y/n are smart and funny and you don't think that about them" My eyes widened a bit at his statement. I actually was gay, well, bi but still. I've hidden it from my friends because I'm not sure how they'd react, especially Chandler, considering I have a huge crush on him.  "Yeah, right!" They all laughed and I awkwardly laughed along with them. "Well, what is it?" Chandler asked again, clearly upset. "I-I don't know, you just have a, a quality!" Monica responded. Everyone agreed with her. "Oh, oh, a quality. Good, I thought you were going to be vauge about it." Chandler sighed.
Later that day it was just Phoebe, Joey, me, and Rachel Waitressing. Monica and Ross were visiting their sick nana and Chandler was at his apartment doing who knows what. "Hey, do you guys ever think about, um, if one of us were gay?" I asked hesitantly. I need to come out eventually, might as well test the waters. "I wouldn't really care, I've dated a few girls" Phoebe shrugged, making my eyes go wide. "You have?" Joey and I gasped. "Yeah, it's not a big deal. I mean, I like guys too, it's more about the soul, y'know?" She explained. I smiled to myself and nodded my head. I totally understood what she meant. I mean, sure it helps for people to be pretty, but I've always been more focused on a person's personality than anything else. "Wait a minute, why did you ask Y/n? Did Chandler say somethin to ya?" He asked, sounding a bit hopeful. I looked at him quizzically. "No, why?" His face dropped and he insisted it was nothing. 
After a bit Joey went to join Chandler in his apartment, I looked over at Phoebe nervously before scooting a little closer to her. "Um, Pheebs?" She looks up at me to continue. "So, you're attracted to men and women?" She nodded, smiling. "It's ok Y/n, you can say it." Huh, guess she already knew. "I um. I do too." I smile sheepishly. She sweeps me into a hug and squeals as quietly as possible. "Thank god, I know this great guy that you'd absolutely love!" I chuckle at her. Maybe it'd be ok to tell everyone and explore that part of me, maybe go out with a guy or two. "That'd be great, thank you so much Phoebe"
It's been a few weeks since that moment, and I'd decided it was finally time to tell everyone. We were all gathered in the girl's apartment, and I stood up in front of them all. "Ok, so, I have something to tell you all, nut you have to promise me you won't freak out." "Oh god, you didn't get back with Elizabeth. did you?" Monica gasped. I chuckled and shook my head. "No, it's uh... I'm bisexual, it means I um, I like men and women" I smiled sheepishly at the group. There was a moment of silence before Monica and Rachel tackled me in a hug, Joey smiled at me and pats my shoulder, and Ross and Chandler look at me shocked. I was terrified that they'd say something bad but Ross just sputtered out "Good for you!" and came to join the hug. "Ah, what the hell?" Joey smiled and joined in on the hug, as well as Phoebe. Chandler just stood there, gawking, and it terrified me. 
"Sooo, any special guy make you want to share the news?" Monica teased after we all had sat back down. Chandler still hadn't said a word.  "Well, not yet, but Pheebs said she was gonna set me up with someone." I blushed. "Oh! Oh! Alexander, yeah! He said he's free saturday if you want me to set you up for this weekend!" Phoebe cheered. I agreed to it and everyone seemed really excited for me, except for the silent Chandler. 
It was sunday morning, and I yawned as I left my bedroom to grab a cup of coffee. "Hey, N/n, Do you have any eggs?" Joey asked, letting himself into my apartment. "Joe, I gave you that key for emergencies." I nervously laughed, glancing towards my room. "So what? It's not like I'll see anything-" he was cut off by my bedroom door opening and a tall handsome man walked out, calling for me. "Ohhoho, someone got lucky!" Joey teased. I blushed and glared at him "eggs are in the fridge." I grumbled, glancing at the man next to my room. "So, uh, Alex, this is Joey." I awkwardly muttered, The two nodded at eachother. "Hey Joe, whats-" Chandler stopped when he saw the three of us awkwardly standing there. "Oh, that's what."  He huffed, before storming out. "What's his problem?" Alex asked. 
"So, was he hot?" Monica asked me and Joey. "Yeah" I blushed. "Oooo, I knew you two would get along!" Phoebe squealed. "Yeah, it's great" Chandler mumbled. "What's got you down?" "Nothing" He grumbled. "It's just, do we always have t talk about whowe date? Can't we talk about something else?" and there it is, exactly what I feared. He was uncomfortable with me talking about dating a man. I raised an eyebrow "How come you've never had a problem before?" I asked, annoyed. "Well, I, Uh-" He sputtered. "Look Chandler, if you're uncomfortable with me seeing a man just say it!" I huff, storming off.
I sat alone in my apartment, Snuggled up under a blanket, grumbling about Chandler under my breath. Why does it matter to him who I'm dating? It's none of his beeswax! A knock at my door sounded. "I'm not in the mood Pheebs" I assumed she came to comfort me, but the voice coming from behind the door wasn't hers. "Hey, Y/n, it's me." It was Chandler. I stormed over to the door, swinging it open. "What do you want?" I asked sharply. "Look, I-I, I owe you an explanation" "Sure as hell do" I interjected, stepping aside to let him in. "Ok, look, I've only told one other person this before and I don't know how to say it so I'm just going to blurt it out. I'm bisexual and I may like you" He said the last part faster, but I caught it. "R-Really? All this time you, you liked me?" I breathed. "Yes. E-Ever since I met you, you took my breath away. You're handsome, smart, funny, and-and I've only ever liked one guy in college so I thought it was a phase, y'know? I thought there was no way you would like me, because I'd only ever seen you with girls, and then you came out and I thought about tewlling you but you went on a date with that guy and-" I cut him off by smashing my lips onto his. After a few moments of the best kiss I've ever had, we pulled away. "Wow" Chandler breathed. "Sooo, do you wanna head to your room?" He smirked at me. "Bing!" I gasped and hit his chest.
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gowithinbitch · 1 month
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SORRY I M LATE AGAIN I WAS AT SCHOOL BECAUSE " " DID NOT MAKE ME DROP OUT
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and thank you to @eternallyilluminated for offering me the beautiful clown meme
@iamthat-iam never stop the bernie memes please
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jtl-fics · 10 months
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*bernie sanders voice* I am once again asking for the math nerd AU 🙏🏻
Math Nerd AU
"Riko, you live on the streets for a couple of years and I guarantee that you will 100% refuse to live anywhere that gets too cold. I got stuck in the snow belt one winter and I thought I was going to die a couple nights out there." Neil shivers as if recalling the cold. 
Riko has the good grace to nod in acceptance but Kevin is sure that there will be more attempts to bait Neil over to the Ravens. "I see. Well, I would have liked to have been on the same team as you Josten. You are quite skilled and I don't find your personality disagreeable either." he says, hand finally dropping.
"We'll have a chance to play together if we make Court or end up on the same team later. College Exy isn't where it ends y'know?" Neil smiles and claps Riko on the shoulder in a move that Kevin had seen hundreds of athletes do to other athletes.
It's never something he's seen someone do to Riko.
No one is friendly and casual with Riko.
Riko looks floored.
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butch-chastity · 5 months
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best nova solo?
hmm i was gonna be like "oh i don't know, they're all so different" but actually No this is easy look
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general thoughts:
vol 1 - gets stuck in between b & c because there are some genuinely good and interesting moments but those generally get lost under the weight of the really racist ending and the more boring issues
vol 2 - i know this isn't everyone's favorite and it definitely mischaracterizes the new warriors but if i ignore that it's enjoyable. i think the delivery service is cute. rich is having a bad time in his 20s and i can relate to that. i also think the nova 00 plotline was really good and so was the garthan saal + xandar Stuff that happens here. 18 is Devestating and i think about it a lot. gets points of for the some of the insensitive stuff in 2, 6, & 7 and also just dropping plot points left and right (I want to talk about epyrus again :( )
vol. 3 - (deep breath in) this one is Bad and if you've read it you know the reasons why. however, i do enjoy whatever bernie and rich have going on. i think putting rich in college is STUPID and i while rich's shitty fast food job has some funny moments it also Sucks because the delivery service thing was fine ok. OK? god.
vol. 4 - genuinely great, definitely the best of rich's solos, especially the first 25 issues. gets points off because the stuff that comes at the very end could use some work. overall very a super fun read, and definitely what hooks a lot of people when it comes to rich's character. gamora planned to give rich brainworms but she didn't account for me getting infected also
vol. 5 - good! love sam. i think its weaker points come with the territory of sam being a new character + the kinks of writing an origin story. overall good.
vol. 6 - fine. nothing really remarkable about it. i read it when it was coming out in 2016 while I was in middle school and thought it was ok. i don't remember all that much about it tbh. i should probably re read it but overall as of right now i remember it being fine if a little boring at times
vol. 7 - placed the highest for a reason; it's really good and the art is iconic. perhaps vol. 4 is better in terms of content but because this one was cut short it didn't have the same issues that vol. 4 did. overall awesome, but it's really only one arc so i'm not sure it's comparable to the others (also it's a duo not a solo but.... you know how it is)
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akaanonymouth · 5 months
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“This is the third meal you’ve missed this week, are you okay?”  For the trauma prompt thingy please.
PTSD Mogadishu
Bernie’s recovering; she’s started talking more, they spend time together just sitting and walking, and watching tv, reading, and Serena cooks all the meals. But then Serena realises that Bernie’s made excuses for dinner three times, since she’s been off the hospital regulated meal replacement shakes.
She makes a lot of excuses at first, twists a fork around her plate, sometimes, when she does sit down, which is never for long once she lifts one to her mouth. 
Eventually, Serena broaches the subject, when they’re sat on the sofa, Serena having foregone her planned paella and chucked ice cream and bananas in a blender, tried not to watch as Bernie devoured it. 
“Sometimes I don’t think about it, because I’m hungry,” Bernie says, and Serena starts. It’s been an hour since Serena wordlessly handed her a milkshake, sat next to her on the sofa and put some mindless background noise on the television. Bernie studies it avidly, as though her Spanish has ever been good enough to follow the dramatics of a telenovela. “But then, when I’m not hungry, I think about it, and it sets it all off again. There’s no rhyme or reason,” Bernie shrugs, setting her empty cup onto the coffee table, still studiously avoiding Serena’s eyes. Serena watches as her fingers start to rub at the skin on her wrists, and it takes all of her will not to close the gap between them and engulf her in her arms. “It’s the texture, I think,” Bernie continues. “Not being hungry, everything aching and the effort it took to move any part of my face when stale bread was forced into my mouth by warm fingers,” Bernie swallows convulsively. “They were smoke stained, dirt stained, rough…large…” she swallows again, her fingers working harder at her wrists. “Being hungry, but only having rice. Dry, don’t even know if it had been cooked, or whether it was just left out. Crunchy. Makes your tongue feel funny when your mouth is already dry and you’re trying to swallow. Hard and dry and it rattles around your mouth that’s already hard and dry, and it’s like teeth, loose broken teeth rattling around your mouth, there’s no water, and the whole feels of it makes my tongue go numb, my brain itch-” Serena notices Bernie’s shift between first and second person, present and past tense, doesn’t quite know if she should intervene yet; it’s the most Bernie’s talked about any of it since they addressed her ribs and facial bruises, and that had rendered her mute for another three days. “And I have to swallow, I have to make myself swallow, got quicker at it, better at it, otherwise they…” she shudders. “I make myself, because if I have no strength when I need it, then I’ll never get out when I get the chance, never get to see Serena again-” 
Bernie’s breathing is quickening, she’s started rocking, so Serena leans forward and gently touches one of her hands. “Bernie,” she says, gently, and Bernie starts violently, wide eyes swinging wildly to Serena. Serena keeps eye contact, stroking her wrist gently, until Bernie visibly relaxes, the initial terror leaving her eyes.
“It was always for you, S’rena. Getting out,” she stares intently at Serena for seconds in which Serena hopes understanding and love shines through, before her eyes drop, buried under her fringe as she shrugs and smiles almost scathingly, her gaze now unable to settle. Her fingers scratch at Serena’s, instead of her own wrist. “It’s the textures. The warmth, the sounds in my head, being hungry, not being hungry… I don’t…It’s just…” she huffs, breathes deeply. “Just an awkward bastard I suppose.” She shrugs self-deprecatingly, but Serena refuses to let it go as a flippant conversation. 
“Bernie, no, you-”
Bernie pulls her hands away, grabbing at and running them through her hair and over her face. “I can’t even eat a meal with you, Serena!” she cries, voice breaking. “I don’t want your pity, I just want to be able to eat a plate of food with my partner without feeling sick and falling apart!” 
Bernie falls apart. 
Like grains of dry rice on a fork, Serena tries to hold her together. 
When Bernie wakes, mouth and eyes dry and everything else aching, she’s momentarily frozen. Blinking and breathing her way through the fear induced nausea to rationality, the events of the previous evening come back to her. She curls in on herself, ready to block out everything once again, until her eyes land on the bedside table, and a large glass of juice sat on it. 
Eventually, she makes her way to the kitchen, blinking in the almost midday sun streaming through the windows and open patio doors. Serena watches her approach, doesn’t move, doesn't even uncross a leg or close the book on her knee, waits until Bernie sits gingerly on the chair opposite her by the table laden with bowls of chopped fruit and some soft, milky looking things Bernie can’t even name. 
Serena pushes a mug of coffee towards her. “We’re in Spain,” she says, softly. “But even if we weren’t, wherever we are, you never have to eat dry food ever again.” 
Bernie takes a small piece of melon, pushes it between her lips, marvels at the way it melts in her mouth. She lifts her head to the sun, eyes closed. “You just have to keep talking to me,” Serena whispers. Bernie opens her eyes, finally meets Serena’s from under her fringe. Serena reaches her hand across the table. “But it’s alright,” she says, corners of her eyes crinkling as she smiles and Bernie tickles her wrist. “Don’t talk with your mouth full.”
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One Bad Day.... (Part Three)
Fandom: Batman, Batfam, Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Batmom
Word Count: 5709
TW: Some Language, Mentions of Death/Murder, Mentions of Miscarriage, Pregnancy Loss, Infertility, Betrayal, Mention of Suicidal Thoughts, Angst
Series Masterlist
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As you limp over to the chair in your makeshift office on the upper level of one of the multiple warehouses you and Jason had commandeered, you tear off both parts of your mask and let them clatter to the floor. Dropping heavily into the chair, you slap an icepack on your aching knee. In the five months since Jason had broken you out of prison, you have gotten to the point you can walk and even fight on it, but you can tell it never healed exactly how it should have. And especially after being as active as you have been lately, it is not really a surprise it is causing you issues.
After taking the first few days out of prison to rest and recuperate, you and Jason had started your systematic take over of large sections of Gotham’s underworld. Jason had already established a dominating control over many of the street gangs in some of Gotham’s rougher neighborhoods, but under your guidance, the two of you were soon running the entirety of the Narrows. And, if everything continued on schedule, the last few remaining sections of Black Mask’s territories would soon fall to you as well.
While you were technically now mob bosses ruling over your territory, you and Jason took a much different approach to crime than other leaders in the past. Following the guidelines Jason had originally established, drugs were still legal to buy and sell but anyone caught selling to kids were immediately dealt with. Violence towards average, law-abiding citizens was harshly punished. And all weapons sales not directly approved by one of you were banned. You told Jason the fact Bruce never seemed to understand was that crime could not be stopped. But if it could be contained, controlled, then you had a chance of making a real difference.
Jason had been reluctant to allow you to help him in the field at first. But after a lengthy conversation reminding him that before you met Bruce you were a very successful up-and-coming criminal in your own right, he finally relented with the stipulation that you stayed behind until your knee healed enough that you could protect yourself. Which seemed fair to you, especially considering you were in a lot of pain. But also because it gave you time to prepare.
What you didn’t tell Jason was one day while he was away, you went to visit an old friend from back when you were still living on the streets. Bernie had been making outfits for street-level criminals for as long as anyone could remember. He understood that sometimes the only way to survive in this city was to bend the rules a little bit. So, while he refused to work for more deadly villains like Riddler or the Penguin, he provided cheap, quality products for those looking to make ends meet. He had designed your first suit, the one you wore when you met Bruce. And you had hoped he was still willing to work his magic for you now.
And did he ever! The new outfit was similar to the old design: Black combat boots that came up to your knees, dark well-fitting cargo pants, black fingerless gloves, and a thick belt to hold a multitude of weapons. But you had also had Bernie make a few cosmetic changes: your tight tank top, biker jacket, half-mask that covered your mouth, and domino mask that covered your eyes were all black, but they were accented by the exact shade of red as Jason’s helmet. Standing together you looked like a cohesive team. Part of you was a little worried he would be embarrassed to be in matching uniforms with his mom, but Jason’s eyes lit up when he saw you for the first time in it. He had been alone, isolated for so long, that he was glad to belong with someone else once again. After much discussion, you opted to keep your old name because it still held some weight around certain parts of the city. And thus, the team of Red Hood and Night Watch was born.
So far, everything had been running smoothly. Almost too smoothly. As proud of you were of your son and the good you were doing for the city, you knew it wouldn’t last. Sooner or later, he would track you down to deal with you. And it seemed as if that day had finally come.
As you remove the ice from your knee and try to stretch it, you hear a loud commotion from downstairs. Limping quickly out of the office, you peer down to the level below to see Jason in his full Red Hood attire grappling with a familiar black-suited figure in a cowl and your breath catches in your throat. You had been trying to prepare yourself for this day, but the sight of him still stops your heart for just a second.
And in your split-second moment of hesitation, Jason manages to pin the older man to the ground as he drives his knee into his chest and wraps both hands around his throat. You stare at the tension in Jason’s shoulders and arms, and you can tell that he is willing to not let up until it is over once and for all. But you can’t let that happen.
“Hood! Stop! Now!” You bark at your son as you calmly descend the stairs.
His helmet whips to face you without removing his hands and you can feel the rage and fury rolling off him even from this distance. You watch him switch his modulator to comms and his voice suddenly roars through the device in your ear. “You know what he did…. To both of us. What he will do to us if given the chance. Let me finish this once and for all.”
Stopping at the foot of the stairs as you mutter under your breath so only the comms picks up your voice, you say, “No, Jay. That’s not who we are. Yes, I am furious about what he did, but he does not deserve to die. And even if it comes to that one day, I will not let you carry that burden, okay? So, for now, you need to let him go.”
His helmet’s fixed gaze bores into you for another few seconds before he releases his grip on the man he had once called family. Without breaking the stare with you, he stalks over to stand by your side. You lay one hand on his heaving chest and the other against the side of the helmet. Whispering through the comms, you ask, “Are you okay, baby? Are you sure you want to stay for this?”
He nods, but you can still feel his heart racing beneath your hand. You give him a small smile of encouragement before your face turns stone cold and you turn to face your ex-husband. Holding your head high, you spit out, “Bruce.”
“Y/N.” He glares at the two of you as he gets to his feet. While rubbing his throat, he scoffs, “So, the Red Hood? This is who you’re with now? Some rebound.”
Jason snorts as he tries to contain his laughter, but at least the momentary shock of that insane idea seems to have calmed his rage some. Bruce’s comment also alleviates any fears you have about him knowing who is under the red hood, so you didn’t dare correct his assumption in case he got suspicious. Instead, you neither confirm nor deny the allegation as you dodge the question.
“Oh, no. You don’t get to say a single word to me about rebounds. How’s that bitch Selina doing these days?”
Bruce blanches slightly. “How did-how do you know about that?”
“She fucking told me, Bruce! Came to see me over a year ago to brag to me all about your little lovefest. Including the fact she knows your secret….. How could you do that? How… Her of all people! You knew what she was to me!”
“It’s not like that. I-I didn’t mean for it to happen, it just…”
“What? You couldn’t have me anymore, so you found the second-rate version of me? Because I might have taught Selina everything she knows, but that doesn’t mean I taught her everything I know. But I’m sure you figured that out by now,” you say with a smirk.
Bruce shakes his head. “She shouldn’t have said something to you. It only happened a few times and it didn’t mean anything.”
“Well, you both sure fooled everyone. I saw the papers. Guess those rich assholes accepted her on your arm at their galas and parties a lot quicker than they ever accepted me. And it would seem since you shared your secret, she got both sides of you. The Bat and the Cat…..I got to admit, it does have a nice ring to it.” He opens his mouth to try and come up with some excuse, but you stop him. “I don’t want to hear it. You can’t take back what you did, no matter the reason behind it. So, just drop it, Bruce.”
Looking around the room, you ask, “Now, where is he? I know you’ve probably ordered him to stay back, keep an eye out from above somewhere in case things take a turn. There’s no way you came here without him.” Out of the corner of your eye, you see a small movement high above you. You smile as you lower your voice so only Bruce and Jason can hear you as you smugly say, “But do you really think he would turn on me? Even if it came down to a fight, are you really so certain he would choose your side over mine?”
Bruce glares at you for a moment before he looks up to the rafters and jerks his head. A figure instantly drops to the ground and before you can even get a good look at him, he has crossed the distance between you and wraps you tightly in a warm hug.
Breathing a heavy sigh of relief, you return his embrace. Struggling to hold back the tears threatening to fall, you whisper, “Hey, Dickie. Oh god, I’ve missed you!”
“I missed you too,” your eldest son whispers into your hair. Then he pulls back and looks into your face. “Mom, why are you doing this? Just come home, we can work something out.”
You give him a sad smile as you cup his face. “We both know that can’t happen, Dick. And we know why. But, oh, I wish I could.”
Dick opens his mouth to say something else, but Bruce interrupts, “Nightwing!” He motions for him to rejoin him on the other side of the room.
You roll your eyes but whisper, “Go, it’s okay. I love you.”
“I love you too, Mom.”
As you watch Dick move to stand behind Bruce, it hits you that for the first time in over five years your entire family is in the same room together, even if two of them didn’t realize it. Tears spring to your eyes, but you somehow manage to hold them back.
Clearing your throat, you ask, “Now, are you really going to leave that fucking mask on the whole time? Or are you not man enough to face me as yourself?”
Bruce nods at Jason. “Is your guy going to take his off?”
“No.” you say bluntly. Then you sigh exasperatedly. “I’ve called you Bruce like six times already. You don’t think he figured it out even if he didn’t know already?”
He hesitates for a moment, then pulls the cowl off. You inhale sharply. He looks just like he did in your dreams. The same handsome, charming man who hadn’t seemed to age a day in your five-year separation. And it all came flooding back to you. Every moment of your relationship, both the good and the bad. The night you met, the last time you saw him in the courtroom, your first kiss, your last kiss before you left to kill the Joker, the Christmas Eve he first told you he loved you, the Christmas Eve he didn’t show up, bringing Dick home, Dick leaving, bringing Jason home, Bruce holding you as you sobbed over Jason’s body, and on and on and on.
As he lets the cowl fall to the floor, Bruce looks at you and asks, “So?”
“So what?”
He sighs, “What are you doing? This isn’t you. Mob boss ruling over half of Gotham? Running drugs and guns throughout the city? You fought to keep these kinds of things out of here, what happened?”
“You know what happened. You did, Bruce. This has always been me. You knew that when you first asked me out, when you married me, when you tossed me aside. This is me.” You hold out your hands as you gesture to the warehouse around you with all of its contents. “And yeah, I might not be doing things the way you like, but for the first time in a very long time, I’m doing what I think is right.”
“Just like you did that night, huh?”
“Just because you have lines you won’t cross, doesn’t mean everyone else has to agree with you. And, you know, I’ve got to ask…. why was it so different with me? Huh? Clark, Diana, Hal, Barry, they’ve all killed people over the years, yet you have no problem working with the Justice League. But when it’s your own wife, over your own son, there’s no leeway, no understanding. It’s just time to throw the book at her!”
“When they have taken lives, it was in the heat of battle, when there was no other option. What you did was just plain murder!”
“You’re damn right it was!” All the rage, all the fury that had been bubbling under the surface finally breaks loose as you roar, “He murdered our son first! Beat him, tortured him, blew him up. And that’s just what he did to Jason. What about the other thousands of people he hurt or killed over the years? The damage he has caused to our friends and family! That monster deserved everything that he got and more! And if I had to, I would kill him a thousand more times to keep my family safe. You might have been fine with it, but I couldn’t live in a world where our son was dead, and that monster still lived. But honestly, I never thought you would actually turn your back on me like you did.”
“What was I supposed to do? Please, tell me!” For the first time, Bruce’s voice cracks just a bit and you take a step back, stunned. “You walked out, still dripping with his blood, and announced to half the Gotham Police Department who you were and what you did. Your confession was captured on every body cam on every cop there as well as the security cameras across the street. Plus, he was beaten to a bloody pulp and his neck was broken! Your only injury was some bruised knuckles. There was no way to claim self-defense. I tried, I pulled every string I could, I spoke to Gordon, the DA, everyone! I offered to single-handedly fund the city for the next three years, but they told me there was nothing…. It was a miracle I was able to keep you at Arkham instead of having you sent to Blackgate.”
“Oh yeah, Bruce. Because being locked up with the psychotic villains is so much better than the sane ones.”
“You were supposed to be safe there. No one was supposed to touch you.”
“Well, how did that work out?”
“I didn’t know.”
“Yes, because you refused to see me! Served me with divorce papers on one of the worst days of my life and turned your back while they threw me into that hellhole!”
“I did all of that to try and keep the target off your back! I thought that maybe if you were no longer connected to me, they would take the hint and leave you alone.”
“But Alfred and Dick still came to see me. That connection was still there. So, if that was your reasoning then why- Oh my God!” Your eyes grow wide as you realize what he had tried to do. “You tried to keep Dick from coming to see me. You wanted him to cut off all contact just like you did. You son of a bitch! You were trying to keep my only living kid from seeing me!”
“It would have made things better in the long run. If he would have made it clear you didn’t have the support of the Wayne f-”
“Fuck you, Bruce! Do you have any idea what it was really like in there? How much I struggled every single day to just keep going? And the thought of seeing Dick or Alfred was the only thing that kept me going. If I would have lost them too… if I had truly been alone in there…. I wouldn’t have waited for them to come for me. I would have slit my wrists myself.”
All three men surrounding you visibly flinch at your confession. Jason takes a step closer to you, gently laying his hand on the small of your back. But you never take your eyes off of Bruce’s face.
He looks down at the ground, ashamed. “I’m sorry. I thought it was what was best for you. I thought a clean break…”
“Because you didn’t think to ask me what I would have wanted. But no, your word is law, and no one else’s opinion matters. And I did everything for you, Bruce! I changed everything about me, my whole life, to fit into your world. I did everything you ever asked of me, and after Jay…. the one time that I needed something, the one time I asked you for help, you turned your back on me! Once again, you refused to listen to what I wanted or what I thought.”
Bruce looks at you like you just started speaking a different language. “What are you talking about? When Jay died, I asked you over and over, I begged you to talk to me, but you wouldn’t. How was I supposed to know what you wanted or how you felt? You shut down again. Just like…. just like last time…”
When you speak, your words aren’t angry or hate-filled but instead full of pain and grief. “Don’t you dare try to compare this to that! It wasn’t the same at all!”
Bruce takes a few small steps towards you, face filled with sadness. Softly, he says, “Yes, it was. I tried to talk to you, to get you to say how you were feeling and you just pushed me away. You fell back into the same self-destructive patterns as before except this time, you lashed out instead of shutting down. I should have seen it, and I should have done something. There was no one to get revenge on the first time, no one to blame so with Jason, you made sure you got retribution. That you got blood for the life that was taken from you.”
“Stop it! Don’t do this.” You glance nervously over your shoulder at Jason as you growl, voice quivering, “Bruce, I swear, don’t you dare say another word.”
“You know it’s true,” he whispers. “You knew what I would say about your plan, so you didn’t even try to talk to me. I was hurting just as much as you were, and because of that, I didn’t see the warning signs. I’m sorry. I should have protected you better, just like I should have protected him better, protected them better.”
You screw up your face as you stare at the floor, willing yourself not to cry. Finally, you choke out, softer than before, “Bruce… Jason made a choice to go after his real mother. You told him not to, that it was too dangerous, and he chose not to listen. I never blamed you for what happened with Jay. Not once. And I know he wouldn’t blame you for that either. But what you did afterward? How you refused to do something about the Joker? How you handed me divorce papers as I was being led off to prison and then never once tried to see me afterward? That I blame you for. That is what I’ll never forgive you for.” You take a deep breath and then straighten your back, putting on your most stubborn face. “Now, I think you should go.”
Bruce stares at you for a long moment before nodding his head. He picks up his cowl and turns to leave, but he pauses with his back still to you as he says, “I did come to see you. Once. On your first Christmas Eve away from me. Even after everything that had happened, I couldn’t bear to be apart from you. Not on our night.”
Your blood runs cold as you stammer out in complete disbelief, “No…. Because I waited for you, and you never showed up…. I counted down every second of that night, begging you to come, but you didn’t.”
Bruce nods his head. “They had moved your cell earlier that day and I didn’t know. So, by the time I tracked down your new location, I was two minutes too late.” He finally turns to face you, and you can swear you can see a mistiness in his eyes. “I found you curled up on your cot, sobbing and clutching an old photograph. I knew you were hurting because of me, and I couldn’t bring myself to face you. I’m sorry.”
You feel like you were just punched in the stomach, but you manage to spit out, “You’re right…. you shattered what was left of my heart that night. And those were the last tears I will ever shed for you, Bruce Wayne. Now, get the hell out of my warehouse.”
Bruce turns once more and walks to the door. Dick starts to follow, but you stop him.
“Dick…,” Your son turns to face you. “Please, come see me anytime you want. But Nightwing is not welcome here. Okay?”
Dick nods. “Yeah, I get it.” He hesitates a second before running back over and scooping you into his arms. You return his embrace wholeheartedly as he whispers, “I love you, Mom.”
You whisper back, “I love you too, baby.”
And you would have remained there forever if Dick didn’t finally pull away. But before leaving, he shoots Jason a look and says, “I don’t know what you two are planning, but you keep her safe. Okay?”
Jason seems taken aback, but he nods and says through the modulator, “I’ll protect her with my life.”
Dick eyes him cautiously for a moment then nods. And with a final smile at you, he leaves. Bruce watches him go then shoots you one last glance and says, “I will stay out of your way as long as you don’t kill anyone. But the first body that shows up connected to either one of you, I will take you down.” And with a flourish of his cape, both men disappear into the night.
The second that he fades from view, you collapse to your knees. You land roughly on your injured knee and a burst of pain shoots up your leg. But you don’t mind it because at least the physical pain is helping to ground you as waves of emotional pain threaten to overwhelm you. Jason takes off his helmet, kneels down beside you, and wraps his arms around your neck. “I’m sorry, Ma. I know that had to be rough.”
“I know that couldn’t have been easy on you either. I’m so proud of how you handled it. I know you can’t always control your anger, but you did good.” You chuckle humorlessly, “Honestly, I thought I would be more controlled and level headed when we finally met again. But the second I laid eyes on him, my emotions got the better of me. I let him make an idiot of myself. But at least now, it’s over and he should leave us to do our business our way.”
Jason squeezes you tightly once more, then helps you to your feet. You start limping over to the stairs but notices Jason is still standing in the same spot. “Are you coming?”
“There’s one thing I don’t understand…. What was he talking about when he said my death was like last time? W-what last time?”
You turn away from him, unable to look him in the eye, “Jay, please…. don’t, just…. don’t. It doesn’t matter.”
“Ma, whatever it is, I’m here for you. It clearly bothered you when he mentioned it. So, what happened?” But you just shake your head. Jason walks around to face you and he gently rests his hands on your shoulders. “Hey… I won’t push it again if you really can’t talk about it. But I’m here for you and I just want to understand. Please.”
You hesitate for a second, then nod slowly. After all of these years, Jason deserves to know what happened. “From the moment I fell in love with Bruce, all I ever wanted was to have a family with him. To hold a little baby in my arms and see Bruce’s eyes staring back at me coupled with my nose, or my smile. That unique blend of the two of us. We had talked about it, and while we knew it was dangerous with what we did, we both wanted it so badly that we agreed to start trying. However, that’s right around the time Dick came into our lives, and it was decided that we hold off, at least until he got settled. But then he became Robin, and the villains began to get more dangerous, and the job got more demanding, and on and on.
“And I was okay with it because I had my son. But Dick was already twelve when we took him in and he was so independent and strong, he didn’t really need me to be a ‘mother’ in the way I had pictured. Which was fine, we still formed such an amazing bond. However, I still wanted to have all those baby moments I never got with Dick. First steps, first words, watching them grow. So, as Dick got older, Bruce and I started talking about trying again.
“But then there was the big fallout between Bruce and Dick, and Dick left. Bruce wasn’t the same after that. Batman needs a Robin to help keep him grounded, remind him who he is and what he is fighting for. And without someone there…. It was not a good time for either of us.” You take a huge, shaky breath. “But then a few weeks after Dick left, I found out I was two months pregnant.”
Jason’s face is shocked as he takes in the news, but a moment later you watch as the realization of your words hits him. How there had to be a reason he had never heard about this before. You nod slightly. “Yeah, it’s not exactly a happy ending. But at the time, it was the happiest we had ever been. The news seemed to have healed something within Bruce. He was more like his old self, and I was finally getting what I had always wanted most. Everything was perfect! Bruce wanted to know the gender, but I told him I wanted to be surprised. That it didn’t matter because it was part him and part me, and that was all I needed to know. But we decided on naming it after his parents either way, so Thomas for a boy or Martha for a girl.” You stare off into the distance, remembering the look of pure bliss on Bruce’s face when you had proposed the idea.
Jason softly clears his throat, snapping you back to the present. “So, then what happened?”
“It was an accident. As hard as I tried to find someone to blame, it was just an accident. Bruce brought me to another one of those stupid galas that I hated so much. I was five months pregnant and already looked like a whale, so I begged him to let us stay home. But it was Wayne Industries’ annual charity fundraiser, so deep down I knew we had to go.
“However, no one realized that part of the gas lines near the hotel had been damaged in a major storm the night before. Just an act of God that no one could have known about. And I remember climbing out of the car and reaching for Bruce’s hand. Then there was an explosion and a piece of shrapnel pinned me to the car.” You lift up the hem of your shirt while also pulling down the waistline of your pants to reveal the large scar to the right of your left hip. Jason’s face instantly pales as you continue. “The last thing I remember was pain and Bruce’s face hovering over me in horror, then….”
“I woke up in the hospital a few hours later feeling a deep emptiness like I had never experienced before. And I knew.” The tears you have been holding back finally begin slowly rolling down your cheeks.
Jason shakes his head. “Ma, I’m so sorry…. But how did I never hear about any of this?”
“Bruce buried the story. Not the explosion of course, but anything about me or the baby. He paid off every media outlet in the city to never mention it again. He didn’t want them constantly hounding me about it, bringing it up every time I left the manor. So, after a while, people seemed to forget I was ever pregnant. But I didn’t. I haven’t forgotten for a single day.
“And Bruce was right in what he said today. I did shut down. I wouldn’t get out of bed for weeks. I wouldn’t eat, I would barely talk to him or Alfred. Dick even came back for a while, but it killed him to see me like that. So, when it became clear that his being there wasn’t helping, he left again. I had given up completely. Until Bruce called me one night from patrol and told me he was bringing home another kid who needed our help.” You reach out your hand to take Jason’s, but he pulls away.
His face tightens as he avoids your gaze. “Oh, so I get it. I was just a replacement not only for Dick, but also the kid you had just lost.”
You flinch slightly at his words but then walk over and take his face in your hands. Turning it so he has to meet your gaze, you say, “Jason Peter Todd. You were never a replacement. For anybody. You were my savior. I felt like I had nothing left to live for, but the moment I saw you climb out of the batmobile with that defiant little glare, you won my heart instantly. Not because I saw you as another kid to take the place of the ones I had lost, but because I could tell right away what an amazing kid you were. You were so intelligent, and so brave, and you had such spirit! But I could also see the hurt and the struggle you had experienced, and I knew what that felt like. Being that young, growing up on the streets alone, and already knowing what it was like to have the weight of the world on your shoulders. So, when I saw you, I saw me. And I saw a chance to give you the life I never got. Reading you The Princess Bride, showing you around the manor, I did more that first night than I had the entire previous month combined. You gave me a reason to fight again. You saved me from myself. Just like you saved me from that prison cell. You, Jason, are more than my son. You are my hero.
“And when I lost you too….. Bruce was right. I was so angry that my family had been ripped from me yet again, that I lashed out. I might not have been able to do anything when I lost my baby, but I knew I was able to avenge my son. So, I went after the Joker not to protect others, but for revenge. And there were ways I could have done it…. Ways I think Bruce could have forgiven. But not what I did. I was stupid and reckless. But it felt so good.”
“Ma, I am so sorry….. Did you ever think of trying again? After…”
You shake your head sadly. “Where the shrapnel hit….. I can’t have kids anymore. And now, even if I could, Bruce….” Your face crumples as all the emotions you have been holding back all day finally break through the wall you had built up inside. You wrap your arms around yourself as you begin sobbing uncontrollably.
Almost immediately, Jason is by your side. He wraps you tightly against his chest and you bury your face into his shoulder.
After a minute, he whispers, “You still love him, don’t you?”
Another sob tears from your lips. “I don’t want to. I want to hate him with every fiber of my being, but I can’t. I thought I was over him but as soon as I saw him today…. Even as he was telling me he slept with someone else, all I could think of was how much I was aching to be in his arms again. He abandoned me when I needed him most and I still want him back so badly. I hate that I still love him.”
“Yeah, I know,” Jason says quietly as his own tears begin slipping down his face. “Believe me, I know.”
And the two of you just stay there, wrapped in each other’s arms as you cry for the lives you had lost and the people that you still loved.
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@haleviyah made me this amazing art to show what Batmom’s Night Watch suit looks like! The character is still 100% a reader insert and the physical characteristics were just how I picture her. However, I try to keep my descriptions in the fics as ambiguous as possible to be as inclusive as I can. Thank you!
(please do not reuse or repost without permission)
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your-divine-ribs · 25 days
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One For The Wedding Album Part 1
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Words: 3.7k
I’ve been asked for Part 2 of this and it’s still in my drafts and I do promise to complete it one day 🌸
Imagines Masterlist Main Masterlist
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"For fuck's sake! Who requested Mr Brightside again?" You squeal tipsily.
The music's pounding and your head is spinning, a giddy feeling taking over as you feel a large hand close over one of yours as someone tugs you on to the dancefloor and spins you around to face them.
"John, I can't dance anymore, my feet are killing me!" You cry over the music, but Bondy's not hearing any of it, shaking his head at your protesting, pointing down at the strappy satin covered stiletto heels that you're wearing.
"Told ya you should have worn your docs!" Bondy chuckles. "Never see ya out of those bloody things, so why should today be any different?"
You roll your eyes playfully at him. "Oh yeah, they'd look great with my dress! Really elegant! Sure Van would have loved that!"
"I know you could carry it off though lass... and I don't think our Van would have minded what you turned up in today." He's still got your hand clasped tightly in his, lifted up, his other hand on your waist, and he's leading you around the dancefloor in a much less sophisticated version of an old-fashioned waltz, twirling you around every so often, making your head spin even more.
You're on top of the world. You're with all your family and friends, the drinks are flowing and you've been smiling so wide and for so long that your cheeks are actually starting to ache. You're having the absolute best day of your whole life. Exactly six hours and fifteen minutes ago you'd said "I do" to the one man who you'd loved since the very first moment you'd clapped eyes on him. You're a married woman. And not just any married woman. You're Mrs McCann.
Just the mere thought of your new name is enough to set off that daft, goofy smile on your face again but you don't have time to ponder it for long. The whole function room bursts into song again at the chorus, screeching out the well-known and much-loved lyrics at the tops of their lungs.
Jealousy, turning saints into the sea
Swimming through sick lullabies, choking on your alibis
But it's just the price I pay, destiny is calling me
Open up my eager eyes, 'cause I'm Mr. Brightside
"No more... no more... my feet are seriously gonna drop off!" You whine, twisting yourself out of Bondy's arms, ignoring his pleas for you to kick off your shoes and just let loose, promising him that you'll be back to dance with him later on.
Your eyes scan the room, taking in wide beaming smiles wherever you look. Your dad and Bernie are having what looks like some ridiculous kind of dad-dancing dance-off competition, your mum and Mary are setting the world to rights over a bottle of champagne and your best friend and chief bridesmaid Kerry is drunkenly and very provocatively draped over a rather flustered looking Bob, much to Benji's delight. He's taken Bob's Polaroid camera and is snapping away, immortalising the moment. You giggle to yourself, taking a swig from your half-drunken glass of bubbly before setting it down on a nearby table.
Now where did that husband of yours get to...?
Husband...
You let the word roll around inside your head for a bit, trying it out for size, seeing how it feels. You even find yourself whispering it under your breath, a flurry of excited butterflies teaming in your belly as the concept starts to finally sink in. Today is just the start of it. The first day of the rest of your lives together. For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death us do part and all that jazz.
You're so caught up in your thoughts you don't notice the tall figure right behind you until you feel large hands on your hips, making you jump and whirl quickly around.
"There you are! Where did you disappear off to? Was just about to send out a search party!"
"Just been out for a smoke with Larry, that's all love. I'm here now."
Van's looking decidedly less suave now than he did when you were standing in front of the altar together earlier that afternoon. His hair's all mussed up, his tie's askew and the flowers in his button-hole have wilted, but the sparkle that's been simmering in those gorgeous blue eyes is still present. In fact he's positively glowing as he looks at you, deeply into your eyes before his gaze slips lower, shamelessly raking over your body.
You know that look. You've seen it a million times before over the course of your relationship. And you know exactly what's coming next.
"Fancy... errr... sneaking off for a bit? You know... just me and you... somewhere quiet?"
As he talks his fingers slide down to your hips, flexing there, his own hips pushing forward to just barely brush yours.
You smirk up at him. "Thought the whole idea of getting married was about you making an honest woman out of me?"
"Yeah well, I've never fucked a married woman before," he grins. "The thought's kinda turning me on if I'm honest. C'mon Y/N, no one'll miss us. I've been dying to get my hands on you all day since you walked into that church."
You shake your head, tutting loudly. "Impure thoughts in church? How very unholy of you."
"I can't help it babe, you look gorgeous in that dress. Don't even wanna take it off when I fuck you, wanna ruin you in it whilst you're looking all pure and pretty."
"Van!" You cry, your hand shooting up to your mouth, your cheeks aflame, giggling loudly.
He knows damn well how much his dirty talk turns you on and you're tempted. You really are. You glance around, seeing everyone dancing and drinking and having fun.
He's right, even though you two are the stars of the show today you don't think anyone would miss you if you were to disappear off for a little while. There's no denying the thought of Van pressing you into the wall of the toilet cubicle whilst he's hitching up the pristine silk of your virginal ivory white dress has set off a throbbing heat between your thighs, but you're having so much fun you don't want to miss a second of the celebrations. And besides, you'll have all the time in the world at the end of the night. You have the bridal suite booked with its gigantic king sized bed and sumptuous satin sheets, a mini bar stocked with champagne on ice and a huge sunken bath. You can take your time with one another then.
"C'mon..." he urges, that irresistible cheeky grin of his playing on his lips. "Ya know you want to."
You place your hands over his, leaning into him and planting a sweet, chaste kiss on those lips, drawing back slightly but staying close so you can whisper teasingly into his ear. "The best thing's come to those who wait... and you're just gonna have to wait!"
Then you're off, ignoring his protestations, entwining one of your hands in his and leading him in the opposite direction to his intended plans, straight on to the dancefloor where a Van Morrison track has just started to play. Bernie immediately makes a beeline for his son, stealing him away from you so he can clap a hand around his shoulder and sway drunkenly to the melody as they animatedly belt out the lyrics in unison.
Well, it's a marvelous night for a moondance
With the stars up above in your eyes
A fantabulous night to make romance
'Neath the cover of October skies
You watch them for a moment before Bondy's there again, reaching for you and twirling you around until you're giggling and dizzy, laughing and stumbling, falling into his arms.
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An hour's past and the party's still in full flow. Larry and Bondy have been up dancing on the tables, Benji's been throwing some serious shapes on the dancefloor and even Bob's letting his hair down. You noticed Kerry sneakily leading him away to a dimmed corner of the function room after their slow dance had looked like it was getting a little heated. They're currently making out like high-schoolers would around the back of the bike-sheds. You wonder whether Bob will still remember it tomorrow when he awakens with a sore head and remnants of Kerry's lipstick all over his face.
Van's trapped in between two older female relatives who are fussing and preening over him and his eyes keep darting to you with a pleading "help me" type of expression. You just grin and lean in to take a shot with Bob's camera, laughter erupting from you when one of Van's aunts puckers up to press a sloppy kiss on his cheek, telling him what a handsome boy he is.
"Smile for the camera Van!" You chortle, ignoring the helpless look in his eyes when the other aunt leans and and starts ruffling his hair, talking about how it needs a good cut.
Then you're dancing away, taking snap-shots as you go, capturing those perfect and sometimes hilarious moments in time for your wedding album so that you and Van can look back on them in the weeks and months and even years to come, fondly remembering your special day.
"Oi blushing bride, aren't you supposed to be the one in front of the camera today?"
Kerry's suddenly at your side, snatching the camera out of your hands and turning the lens on you. You yelp in surprise but recover quickly, leaning in with your hands on your hips and a saucy pout whilst she snaps away.
"Oh my god Y/N, you look so beautiful today," she gushes as she retrieves one of the freshly printed photos to admire. "I hope Van realises what a lucky man he is to have you. I don't think he deserves you to be honest. Think I might just have to steal you away for myself!"
She hooks her arm through yours and makes like she's turning for the door, then you're both falling about laughing, holding the Polaroid up to snap a few daft, crazy-faced selfies. You're laughing that much that you've got tears of mirth brimming in your eyes and starting to track down your cheeks. You go to brush one away with the heel of your hand when you notice a black smear on your skin and you let out a groan.
"Ah shit! I knew I should have bought waterproof mascara for today. It was bad enough when I was sobbing at Van's vows but look at me now. I must look like a panda bear!" You turn towards Kerry, tilting your face up to hers. "Is it bad? Is it fixable? I must look such a mess!"
Your friend just laughs, shaking her head. "You look absolutely fine... gorgeous as always! If you don't believe me go and look for yourself!"
You gather up the silky layers of your dress and rush off in the direction of the toilets, cursing when you get there and you realise that you've brought Bob's camera with you in your haste to fix your make-up. The last thing you want is to drop his precious camera on the tiled bathroom floor, especially when he'd shyly admitted that he'd brought it with him especially tonight to gift it to you as a special wedding present to preserve the memories of the day. You place it carefully down on the side of the sink and step back to look at your reflection.
Your dress is gorgeous. Even as modest and unassuming as you are you can't help but admit that you do look stunning in it. It has a beautifully cut bodice embellished with tiny diamantés and freshwater pearls and a breathtaking full layered skirt which floats around your feet like you're walking on clouds. Even your less than sentimental dad had shed a tear and mumbled that you looked like a Disney Princess in it.
It's just a shame that the rest of you doesn't look quite so pristine now. Your hair which had been painstakingly curled and styled around the delicate tiara is now hanging around your bare shoulders in wild cascading waves and your make up is smudged. You're not even sure where your tiara is but you'd last sighted it perched on Bondy's head a few hours previously.
You run a fingertip gently under your eye to try and collect the mascara and eyeliner that's ran, but you just end up smudging it even more.
Despite what your best friend says in your opinion you look a mess... a gorgeous mess but a mess all the same... but maybe that's not such a bad thing after all...
Your thoughts stray to a few weeks back and a wild passionate night with Van after you'd stumbled home in the early hours, how you'd huffed at your reflection in the bathroom mirror and reached for a wipe to clear off your ruined make-up. How Van had snuck up behind you and grasped your wrist, telling you that no... he liked it... that seeing you all raw and disheveled like this in gorgeous disarray turned him on. He'd fucked you right there and then over the sink, pressing you into the cold hard porcelain whilst he'd grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at your reflection, telling you how beautiful you were when he made you fall apart for him. The thought makes warmth rise to your cheeks and it's not the only part of you that's heating up.
You squirm where you stand, pressing your thighs together, feeling the whisper of soft lace between your legs, thinking about the stunning ivory set you'd purchased especially for this day. You just know Van will go wild when he catches sight of it. But not yet... he's going to have to wait.
Teasing him is so much fun though...
An idea comes to you suddenly in a flash of wicked inspiration and you quickly hitch up your dress and take a naughty snap in the mirror, angled just right to show Van a glimpse of the alluring treat he'll get if he behaves himself and bides his time. Then you take another shot holding the camera aloft and looking up at the lens through your smoky, smudged loaded lashes, wide eyed and sultry looking, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. Perfect.
You emerge from the toilets shortly after and you don't have to look very hard to find Van this time. As soon as your lock eyes with his across the dancefloor he strides straight over with purpose.
"Baby..." he drawls, dragging out the word slow and smooth, a hand curling around your waist, drawing you in. "If I didn't know any better I'd think my gorgeous new wife was trying to avoid me. Ya wouldn't do that would ya?"
"Of course not, I was just coming to find you actually. Got you a little... errr... wedding gift." You hold up the camera whilst you're talking and Van's attention shifts to see what you're holding, puzzlement creasing his brow.
"Oh yeah? What's that then?"
You produce the Polaroid photos, keeping them raised up and away from Van's seeking hand when he goes to take them, fixing him with a look that's pure seductiveness, ramping up the intrigue.
"Ahh, no you don't... not yet. Think you've been a good boy so far, so I'm sure you can wait a little longer. Just thought you might like a little taster of what you'll be getting later..."
Then you slip the photos quickly into the breast pocket of his jacket, nudging aside the flowers in his buttonhole, patting the material with teasing fingers as you look up at him, informing him that he'll have to wait his turn as there's another man who's been craving your attention all evening too.
As you back away to find your dad for that slow dance that you'd promised him earlier, you keep your eyes on Van, watching his reaction as he quickly slips the photos out for a sneaky look. Just as predicted his eyes go wide and his jaw goes slack, the unmistakable longing etched all over his awed expression as he meets your gaze across the dancefloor with a hungry look that can only mean one thing.
You're gonna get it later...
You smile lasciviously, your belly flipping somersaults at the thought of consummating the life vows you made to each other that very afternoon.
Sex had never been a priority in your life before you'd met Van, it was just another element of your past relationships that although enjoyable had never really filled you with the insatiable need that Van had sparked in you the first night that you'd met. He'd come crashing into your life one evening at a festival that you'd both attended, a whirlwind of chaotic energy and endearing goofiness as you'd both shamelessly fan-girled and fan-boyed over the Arctic Monkeys in their headline slot. With a very newly recorded debut album under his belt, you weren't familiar with Catfish at the time and would never have dreamed for one moment that Van  himself was destined to follow in your idols footsteps and burst into the music scene with quite such aplomb. You also never would have dared to dream that the sparkly-eyed, floppy-haired indie boy that caught your attention that fateful night would end up stealing your heart in such a way that he did, but yet here you were, five years on, proving all the nay-sayers wrong, embarking on the next chapter of your life together. You were perfect together in all the ways that mattered... and as for the sex... it was pretty mind-blowing.
You catch Van's eye as your dad twirls you around yet again, the opening bars of another familiar song sparking a memory in you. It's the song that was playing on the radio when Van proposed to you, another Van Morrison tune. He'd been planning an overblown romantic gesture for his proposal featuring heart-shaped balloons and dozens of roses, taking you completely by surprise when you were out at a planned family meal, but he just couldn't wait.
When he'd seen you there in the kitchen that momentous afternoon just over a year ago, kneading cookie dough with a dusting of flour in your hair and a telltale smudge of chocolate on your lips, he'd thought you'd just looked so adorable... so beautiful... so goddamn perfect... that he couldn't wait another second to ask you to be his wife. The sparkling solitaire diamond platinum ring he'd taken to carrying around with him for weeks had been quite literally burning a hole in his pocket, and he'd dropped down on to his knees right there and then on the kitchen floor, much to your shock and delighted surprise, professing his undying love whilst he'd slid the ring on to your finger. It had been a perfect moment, one that you'd treasure forever, slow dancing whilst he'd held you tightly in his arms, and your life had since been made up of many of these perfect moments.
"I hate to steal her away from you, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to cut in for this song."
Van's voice in your ear and his hand on your dad's shoulder brings you both to a halt, stilling your dance, and your dad lets you go.
He wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you in, close enough that your hips are touching as you begin to sway.
"Got you on your own at last," he looks down on you, dipping his head to plant a small, sweet kiss on your lips. "I can't believe we actually did it babe. Married... the two of us. This is it now... we're gonna spend the rest of our lives together. I hope you're gonna still love me when I'm old and wrinkly."
"Of course I will," you tell him. "I'll always love you... just like I always have. Think I did the first moment I laid eyes on you to be honest."
Van chuckles. "You sure about that? I was a right state at that festival! Remember when you said you wanted to get up on my shoulders and I tripped over and we ended up in a heap on the floor?"
You laugh at the memory. "And you also spilt a whole pint of lager over me if I remember rightly... then instead of apologising you asked if I needed any help getting out of my wet clothes."
Van face palms dramatically, groaning. "God I really was a creep wasn't I? What the hell did you see in me?"
"You made me laugh. You were just so goofy and cute... and adorable... even with the shit chat-up lines."
You drape your hands over his shoulders, looking up at him, your fingers twisting through the hair at the nape of his neck. "And now here we both are..."
"Here we are," he echoes, a faraway look about him like he's caught up in a dream. "And I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. You're the love of my life Y/N."
Again he bows his head to press a soft, lingering kiss on your lips. When you pull apart the grin he's wearing stretches wide on his face as he starts to mouth the words of the song to you.
"And when I'm returning, from so far away
She gives me some sweet lovin'
Brightens up my day
And it makes me righteous, and it makes me whole
And it makes me mellow, down into my soul"
You giggle as he takes your hand and twirls you around, happy and carefree. When you fall back into his arms, he pulls you even closer into his body, impossibly tight.
"She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love... She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love..."
He croons the chorus into your ear before pulling back to look deep into your eyes and the rest of the room seems to melt away. You're exactly where you want to be, it feels like the universe is aligned just right in that moment and everything else is just background noise, orbiting distantly around you both.
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And in case you were wondering… this tumblr post was the inspiration for this fic! Part 2 to come…
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I’m going to try and list the events of today - just so I don’t lose track.
Dawn. Barnum got us moving by 7:00 as usual. Maggie had a pee accident in the night, and the stench was horrible. Bri took Bernie and Maggie out, I took Murphy, and followed up with the Woodge.
Fed the cats and started a fire in the stove in the kitchen. Yeah…we ran out heating oil yesterday afternoon. Had a limited supply of wood and coal, but it began to take the chill off…
Maggie threw up.
And now it gets serious. I googled up pyometra a deadly infection which un-spayed female dogs can get post-heat. Yup. Bri called the vet and talked them into seeing her immediately.
He called the fuel oil company and begged for a delivery - then off he went with Maggie into town.
I continued cleaning and moving things back to the studio - my client guy is coming at 2:00 to pick up his paintings. I bake two loaves of cinnamon bread, and loaf of white bread for tomorrow mornings breakfast. Swill down a cup of coffee, and keep tidying up.
The belt on the dryer busted yesterday, leaving me with two loads of wet laundry which will continue to be wet and will soon begin to get moldy. Bri ordered a replacement part and we will look forward to taking the dryer apart (AGAIN) in about a weeks time.
I mix a bucket of green mold killer and have a go at the front step and walkway - it’s become ridiculously slippery and neither one of us wants to hit the ground hard. I scrub with a chunk of old broom, and leave it to do its thing…
Bri returns with some cat and dog food procured from the vets - but no Maggie. “Shes going to have surgery today. She’s infected and has to have a hysterectomy.”
Barnum had surgery four days ago to remove a cancerous mass in his belly. Now it’s Maggie’s turn.
I take Murphy out again, apply the xeroxed info onto the back of all the completed paintings, and keep tidying. Magda the vet calls to say that Maggie will be operated on this evening, and promises to call and let us know how things went.
The oil guy shows up, pumps €500 into the tank - and leaves. Bri goes out to jump start the boiler.
It doesn’t start. “I’m going to drive to Belleek and buy more wood and coal” - and so he does.
I find the boiler-guys phone number. He’ll be here in two hours.
My client shows up, we chat, drink coffee - he refuses my cinnamon bread, but likes Woodgie very much? We load his Mercedes with the paintings (he’s brought me another BIG one) - I tuck several of my pillows and blankets around the art to cushion them for the ride home.
He does not hand me money.
Which leaves John the boiler guy unpaid. He arrives, works his magic over the next hour - I wrap up a fat slice of cinnamon bread and tell him we will drop his money off at his house tommorrow.
I start making the dough for tonight’s pizza. A figure looms in the doorway - it’s Pat. “I’m just coming from a funeral in Kilty and had to stop as we were passing. Do you mind if I show some people your house?”
Pat is always welcome, I would say “drunk or sober” but somehow we never see “sober”
He rolls in. He is followed by four other people from the funeral - three of whom are smashed. The kind woman who IS sober apologizes for the drop-in, but it really doesn’t matter at this point. They are roaming around the house, tripping over dogs and enjoying Pats tour.
The funeral is for a young g man who “was shot” -?! There is confusion as to whether it was suicide? “In his side” - and yet nobody mentions murder. We offer our sincere condolences.
The tour comes to an end, they all roll outside again - and we bid them farewell- “safe home.”
It’s now 8:00. The pizza dough is rising, the dogs are passed out in front of the fire - and we still have not heard from the vet.
It’s been a day, and no mistake.
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kumeko · 3 months
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A/N: For the Solitary Solace zine! The hard part of being a multishipper is wanting to write all the ships and not having the time to do so, so I cheat like this and smush them all together. XD Lots of ship teasing and 1 uncle teasing because I can't not put in Alois and his dad jokes
Monday:
The only good days were cloudy days. Actually, no, as far as Bernadetta was concerned, the only good days were rainy days. No one forced her to go out on rainy days and she could hide in her room for as long as she wanted. The second-best days were the cloudy ones, when people didn’t like to linger outside, when they just looked at their feet and were fine with ignoring good ol’ Bernie as she went about her business.
That was probably the only reason she agreed to garden with Edelgard. Well, that and her Venus flytrap needed repotting.
Somehow, a simple task was starting to look like a workout. Bernadetta wiped her sweat, streaking soil across her forehead.
“Why is the dirt so heavy?” she grumbled, glaring at the bag of potting soil at her feet. Just who had thought it’d be a good idea to put all those bags in the far corner of the greenhouse, away from the tables?
“Need a hand?” Edelgard asked, looking up from her neat row of tomatoes. They all looked perfectly aligned. Bernadetta sometimes wondered if either she or Hubert were human, but she hadn’t figured out the answer to that yet.
“Yes—No, I’m good,” she quickly corrected herself, grabbing the potting soil bag again and ineffectively dragging it away. Considering how much of a stickler Edelgard was for practicality, she probably wouldn’t appreciate Bernadetta wasting resources on a plant that they couldn’t even eat. Maybe she’d toss the plant on the ground.
Or maybe she’d feed Bernadetta to it. There was a play with a plot like that, right?
“It’s clearly too heavy for you.” Edelgard stuck her trowel in the dirt before getting up. It was funny how normal she looked, dressed down in white buttoned-up shirt and black tights. She looked like any other student and not the Emperor. Grabbing the other end of the bag, she hoisted it up. “Here.”
Bernadetta cried out, almost falling over in surprise. “D-don’t scare me like that.”
Edelgard regarded her coolly. “I thought we already went over this? If you can’t handle your allies approaching you, how are you to deal with our enemies?”
“That’s…” She bit her lip. Honestly, if she just got to stay in her room, she wouldn’t have to worry about any of that. Other people could fight the war, she could live with any victor. Before Bernadetta could reply, Edelgard already started pulling the bag and guiding them to the potting area.
“Sometimes you worry me,” Edelgard sighed, though she didn’t sound angry or even disappointed. Just concerned. It was an odd sound.
Bernadetta didn’t know what to make of it. “Sorry.”
Edelgard waved it off. “It’s fine. We all have our strengths and weaknesses. That’s why we work on them and improve.”
“Is that why you’re here?” Bernadetta blurted out before she could stop herself. Unfortunately, she was holding a heavy bag and couldn’t cover her mouth or crouch and hide. Turning red, she hastily explained, “Gardening, I mean. Not that you’re a bad gardener but—”
“It’s fine, I get it.” Edelgard chuckled. “This isn’t the place you’d expect to find an Emperor, right? But that’s part of the new world we’re creating. Anyone can be anywhere, do anything. Even emperors and gardening.”
“And the vegetables?” Bernadetta asked, still expecting the bolt of lightning.
“Well, they’re practical plants and we have to eat. Even more—is that your old flytrap?” She paused, raising a brow.
Dropping her side of the bag, Bernadetta ran to her plant and hunched over it protectively. “Ahh, I’m sorry—please don’t destroy it—or me, don’t destroy me either, oh I should have known better than to—”
Edelgard stumbled backward slightly at the unexpected release. Regaining her balance, she owlishly blinked as Bernadetta prattled on. “What?”
Bernadetta moaned. Of course, she wouldn’t agree. “I knew it, it was too much to ask for, make the execution quick, oh I just can’t bear to watch—”
“No, that’s not—” Edelgard sighed, setting down the bag entirely. Slowly, like approaching a wounded animal, she stepped closer. “Why would I toss your plant?”
“Then you’ll toss me?” she gasped.
“No, I won’t do either.” There was a touch of impatience in her voice, but Edelgard kept her tone neutral. “Is this the same one from five years ago? It’s a lot bigger now.”
“You won’t?” Hesitantly, Bernadetta straightened, though she kept the plant close.
“I won’t,” Edelgard repeated flatly.
“Oh, good.” Bernadetta sighed with relief. “It has gotten really big—you’re not going to feed me to it, are you?”
Edelgard only sighed.
Tuesday
Bernadetta had never been afraid of ghosts and things in the dark. The dark was her friend, one of the few places where no one bothered her. She had many fond memories of walking through her school’s halls in the middle of the night.
Unfortunately, all of that was before the monastery got partially destroyed. The buildings were full of holes and burn marks, small gaps and collapsed hallways. Small rats ran in hidden tunnels and the whole building felt like a graveyard. Actually, it sorta was a graveyard, and that was partially her fault, if there were any angry spirits, they were definitely out to get her.
Like she didn’t have enough things trying to kill her as it was.
A pebble skittered across the floor and Bernadetta instinctively grabbed Hubert’s arm, pulling him close. “W-What was that?”
To his credit, Hubert didn’t so much as stiffen at the sudden contact, used to this from their many patrols together. Lifting their lamp, he moved the pool of light left and right before shaking his head. “Your own foot, most likely.”
“Oh.” Embarrassed, she pulled away. Not too far; the next one could be an actual attack, after all. As scary as Hubert was, he could scare away any ghost with just a glare. Though…he wasn’t that bad. Bernadetta glanced at the flower patch on his sleeve and smiled. No, he was actually quite kind.
“I am surprised that scared you,” he added, amused, before continuing their patrol.
“It’s dark,” Bernadetta protested, sticking right next to them as they checked the empty halls. “And it’s scary and we have the army, right? Can’t they patrol? At least at night, when there’s,” she dropped her voice to a hushed whisper, “ghosts and stuff.”
“Ghosts?” Hubert raised a brow, glancing at her. “I didn’t think you were afraid of ghosts.”
“I’m not usually, but…we kinda…you know.” Bernadetta gestured around them nervously. “And if anyone wanted revenge…well…now’s a good time.”
Hubert replied wryly, “I doubt that will happen.”
“You don’t believe in ghosts?” she asked, not entirely surprised. Between him and Edelgard, they had the market cornered on bravery and fearlessness. If only she could bottle up their strength and use it on herself.
“Not particularly. Even if there were…” Hubert trailed off, looking at her now. “Well, it’s the living that scares me more.”
Bernadetta lowered her eyes and leaned on him. “That’s…a good point.” It wasn’t a ghost, after all, who’d lock her in her room, threatening her. It wasn’t a ghost who attacked her when she went out. No, those were her father, bandits, enemies, people, all of whom were all too solid and all too real. “Yeah, they’re a lot scarier.”
“See? Nothing to be afraid of,” Hubert added gently.
In the distance, she heard another pebble roll across the floor. A ghost wouldn’t do that. A ghost couldn’t do that.
No, a person could, and the monastery was full of people. People armed to the teeth with swords, daggers, and magic. Clinging to Hubert again, she wailed, “That just made things worse!”
Wednesday:
Ferdinand’s tea was just like the man himself. Bernadetta inhaled the soft rose scent before taking a sip of the gentle, sweet tea. It was strange to think that for months, she’d been terrified of him. It was even stranger to think that they might have been engaged, once upon a time.
In another world, maybe they would have had tea like this on a regular basis and not just when they had a break from their wartime duties. Then again, in another life they might not have even become friends, and Bernadetta doubted she’d feel this comfy with someone she didn’t know. Well, ‘comfy’ in the sense that she didn’t mind their little tea breaks in the courtyard.
“Do you like it?” Ferdinand asked, his eyes bright as he watched her across the table.
“It’s good,” Bernadetta mumbled, never sure how to handle herself when he stared at her like that. She wasn’t used to the attention, and Ferdinand always gave his full attention to whoever he was with. It was like being in a spotlight. Oddly enough, she didn’t entirely hate it.
Pleased, Ferdinand smiled and took a sip himself. “I thought you would quite like the rose blend. It is mixed with some Queen of the Night, a flower that made me think of you.”
He was making fun of her. Bernadetta didn’t know how, didn’t know why, but at her core she was certain that it was true. She’d catch him in the act one day and—well, she wasn’t sure what she’d do, but she’d catch him one day. Picking up her needle, she returned to her sewing and shrugged noncommittally. “You really like flower teas?”
“There are few things better than their delicate flavours.” Setting down his cup, Ferdinand clasped his hands and rested his chin on his knuckles. “Another doll?”
Feeling embarrassed, Bernadetta nodded and lifted the partially completed doll up. It wasn’t much to look at, she knew, just barely in the shape of a person let alone a fairy. “Dorothea asked for one. I don’t know why.”
“Despite your doubts, you put in a lot of skill and love into your creations. Anyone would be honoured to have one.” Ferdinand hummed thoughtfully before asking, “Could I have one?”
“You?” Owlishly, she stared at him. “You want one?”
“Is it really that surprising?” He raised a brow before cocking his head. “Is that a no?”
“Well, I…” Flustered, she nodded. It had been one thing when Dorothea asked; she could pass that off as an accident. Two people wanting her creations? Well, that was preparation for some cruel joke—she just hadn’t figured out what yet. “What do you want?”
Ferdinand stroked his chin, eyeing her for a moment before smiling broadly. “Could you make one of yourself? That way you are always by my side.”
Bernadetta almost dropped her needle. There it was! The trap! “You don’t have to tease me about it!”
Thursday:
The library had always been a quiet, empty place. That much hadn’t changed even now. There were less students, sure, and a few missing steps on the central staircase that hadn’t quite been fixed yet, but the room was otherwise intact and exactly the same. Bernadetta always found peace whenever she entered the cozy room. Even her footsteps sounded muted when she shuffled through the shelves, picking a book to curl up and read.
She wasn’t the only one who thought so. As usual, she found Linhardt at her favourite nook, his head buried deep in his research topic of the day. Bernadetta wasn’t sure when she’d started to expect him here, when he started appearing whenever she needed some alone time. Together alone he had said, but she hadn’t taken him seriously.
Who’d really be interested in her company, especially like this?
Linhardt glanced up from his paper, eyes not so much looking at her but through her as his mind still pulled at his problems. “No paints today?”
“Just a book this time.” Bernadetta leaned against the wall as she settled into the nook, her knees bent before her as she rested the book on them. Having anticipated her, Linhardt had left the sunny side to her. With the two of them nestled in, it was a cozy space. Their feet almost touched. “Research?”
“Something like that.” Linhardt flipped the page and once more he was gone, buried deep in theories that were far above her understanding.
That was more than fine with her. She liked the quiet, the soft flip of a page, their lips soundlessly repeating quotes as they read. Bernadetta had always liked the alone part, but these days she was finding the together part wasn’t so bad.
Friday:
It was incredibly hard to pull out Felix’s smiles. Just like her, they liked hiding inside, only escaping when no one was looking. Ingrid and Sylvain had a far easier time with it than Bernadetta, but she could be stubborn when she wanted to be. After all, it wasn’t like other people just let her stay inside. No, that took dedication.
Dedication she was now pouring into finding Felix’s smile. She’d tried sweets, books, and even paintings. Occasionally, she managed to coax out a small half-grin, but nothing consistent. Nothing permanent. Well, that changed today.
Bernadetta pulled the sheathed dagger out of her pocket and felt a swell of pride. Felix would love this. It was pretty (though, he wasn’t really one for pretty things), it was practical (well, maybe not practical practical, it was more of a decorative piece), and it was for a blade (not the sword he was partial to, but a dagger was still a weapon, right?).
The longer Bernadetta stared at her gift, the less confident she felt. This was a terrible idea. A stupid one. He was going to laugh.
Bernadetta picked up a rock, rolling it between her fingers as she considered that. Well, laughter was kinda a smile, right? Maybe not the one she intended, but close enough.
“Bernadetta?” Felix raised a brow as he stepped out of the training grounds, a towel hanging around his neck. He rubbed the sweat on his forehead as he approached her. “Are you going to practice that move of yours?”
“That move?” Bernadetta frowned, her brow knitting until she realized what he meant. Immediately, she stepped back and shook her head furiously. “I can’t control that! I can’t even repeat it! If I could do something that easily, I wouldn’t have to be terrified.”
“Alright, alright, I got it.” Felix rolled his eyes. “Why are you here?”
“Oh, that.” Bernadetta gripped her sheath tightly. Should she give it? Goddess, this was humiliating. What if she’d guessed so wrong he actually stopped talking to her? “I…”
“Is that a sheath?” It was too late. He spotted the gift before she could muster the courage.
Hanging her head, she held the dagger out. “Yeah, it’s for you.”
He didn’t say anything for a long bit, his expression neutral as he turned it over. After pulling the dagger free from the sheath, Felix ran a finger along the edge before sheathing and pocketing it. Okay.”
“Okay?” Bernadetta blinked when he didn’t react further. Where was her smile? Hell, he hadn’t even frowned! Was it possible to hate something so much he couldn’t show his feelings? “You hated it didn’t you? I knew I should have gotten you something different, now you’re going to hate me and—”
“It’s fine.” Felix interrupted, tapping on her other hand. “I’ll take the rock too.”
She glanced down at the rock. It was an ordinary, black stone, something she hadn’t even thought twice about before picking up. “You want this too?”
“It’s a good slate.” His lips tugged up slightly as Felix took the rock, rolling it between his fingers with an approving hum. “Good to sharpen the dagger I’ll put in the sheathe.”
It was a smile, but the smile was for her rock. Bernadetta stared at his back, not sure if she should feel triumphant or pathetic.
Saturday:
“Hey, Bernie!”
Bernadetta yelped at the knock on her door, despite expecting and preparing for it. She cowered in her chair, taking a deep breath as she tried to calm down. “Y-yes? Please don’t kill me.”
Opening the door, Sylvain poked his head inside with a puzzled grin. “Why would I kill you, Bernie?” He laughed, stepping in. “I mean, first of all, I wouldn’t be able to read your amazing story.”
“Is that the only reason you keep me alive?” Bernadetta wailed, unable to believe her ears.
Sylvain laughed again, his eyes crinkling just so as he shook his head. “I was just teasing. We’re friends, right? Why would I kill a friend?”
Bernadetta shrank into her seat. He was worse than she’d thought. Society was only barely restraining him. “You’d kill me if we weren’t friends?”
“You slay me, Bernie. We go through this every week, and you still ask that?” He rolled his eyes, but his smile didn’t drop. Casually, Sylvain ambled up next to her, peeking at her desk. Noticing a thick stack of paper, he eagerly picked it up. “Is this the next chapter?”
She resisted the urge to grab the bundle and toss it out a window. It was fine. It was fine. This was the reason he was here, the thing she had readied herself for all week. Her chapter was reaching its audience of one. “Y-yes.”
“Ohhhh.” Excited, Sylvain plopped on her bed and read the chapter title. “Escaping the chasm—oh, so she finally finds a way out?”
“Yes…” Bernadetta shifted anxiously in her seat as he started to read. Goddess, this was embarrassing. Even if he genuinely wanted to read her book—he’d been coming back once a month for the chapters, so she had to reluctantly admit Sylvain was telling the truth—there was no way he’d keep liking it. Her latest chapter might disappoint him. He might get bored.
A dozen more thoughts ran through her head and she jumped off her seat. “On second thought, read it outside.”
Before he could protest, she grabbed his arm, yanking him off her bed and through her door.  He didn’t fight, just sighing as he stepped outside. “Alright, alright, I get it. But, hey, I managed to make it through seven pages this time!” Sylvain glanced over his shoulder, winking. “One day, you’re not going to kick me out. In fact, you’ll be pulling me in.”
Face red, Bernadetta squeaked, “Is that a threat?”
Sunday
Bernadetta had been in many strange situations since she’d joined the academy—her teacher was a goddess, their world was at war, she had friends—but none of those negated the oddness of sitting in a small, cramped room across from the bulky giant Raphael. It didn’t help that his fat fingers were trying to stitch a small doll. Or, well, his attempt at a doll.
“Hey, Bernie.” Raphael looked up suddenly, his eyes crinkling as he smiled as bright as the sun.
“W-What?” Bernadetta started; it was automatic at this point. Even though she knew by now he was a gentle giant, more of a moose than a bear, the sight of him still made her heart beat as fast as a rabbit. Besides, she’d read somewhere that even the nice, kind deer ate birds.
If she couldn’t trust a herbivore, why would she trust Raphael?
Well, aside from the fact that they were allies in war, and he had saved her life a few times, and they were kinda friends and—
“Thanks!” His voice cut through her thoughts. Raphael held up the blob he had been patiently stitching for the past hour. “My sister’s gonna love this.”
“She is?” She squinted at the ragdoll in his hands. At least, she assumed it was a ragdoll—Bernadetta wasn’t sure if Raphael was just really bad with needlework, or if he was purposely trying to create some sort of tentacle monster. Maybe his sister had weird tastes. “What is it?”
“A princess!” Raphael’s grin grew broader as he held up his creation proudly.
“IT IS?” Bernadetta didn’t know if there was a definition of princess that somehow matched the multi-coloured jelly-fish like creature in his hands. People used to call her creations cursed, but clearly they’d never seen anything like this. There were no eyes, not even button ones, on the doll yet, but she could feel it staring at her.
“Yeah, it’s cute, right?” Raphael didn’t mind her shouts. “You’re a great teacher.”
Bernadetta flushed and ducked her head, embarrassed. She’d never helped someone before, not like this, not with her entirely useless hobby. And he was calling her a great teacher? Even though every one of their sessions started with her hiding in the corner? With the way Raphael acted, she couldn’t tell if he had been hurt by her reactions or didn’t mind, but there was no way she deserved any of this praise.
“It was nothing,” she mumbled, pleased despite it all.
“Definitely not nothing.” Raphael sat straighter as a thought hit him. “I know! I’ll make you a doll too!”
Her jaw dropped. Maybe he really had been hurt when she flinched away. That was the only reason he was going to curse her with one of those monsters. “I won’t be able to sleep then!”
Monday
“Knock, knock!” Alois called out as he rapped on her dorm door.
Bernadetta yelped, body tense as she almost dived under her bed. But it was only Alois—funny, sweet Alois at her door—and she relaxed automatically as she let him in. “Oh, it’s you.”
“That’s not how it’s supposed to go!” Alois guffawed as he entered and slapped her on the back. “You’re supposed to go, ‘Who’s there?’!”
Bernadetta giggled. There really was something comforting about his goofy jokes and silly expression. Her uncle had been exactly the same when he’d been alive. It was probably the reason her parents never liked him. “Who’s there?”
Grinning, he replied, “Candice!”
Bernadetta raised a brow. “Candice who?”
“Candice open the door, or am I stuck out here?” Alois laughed at his own joke. After a moment, he glanced at the door and deflated slightly. “Though, I guess it doesn’t really work if I’m already in the room now, does it?”
“No, it really doesn’t.” She shook her head, though she smiled all the same.
“Well, anyways, I’m heading to town and wondered if you wanted to come?” As usual, he recovered from his own mishaps quick enough. Alois was as resilient as a dandelion. She wished she had half of his strength. “You’re cooped up in here enough as it is. I thought you could use a breath of fresh air.”
“Of course!” If there was one person whose company she’d never reject, it was his. It was fun going out with him. Maybe she’d do it more often if others were—
Bernadetta paused at the thought. Going out more often?
Actually, now that she thought about it, she’d been going out a lot lately. Almost every day in fact. She glanced at her room. When was the last time she’d actually just stayed inside all day?
“Bernie?” Alois raised a brow. “If you don’t want to—”
“No, no, it’s fine.” She hooked her arm through his and nodded. “Let’s go out.”
Maybe it wasn’t the worst thing in the world, actually, to go outside.
Even if today was sunny.
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rotten-flavor · 4 months
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Sick in Public - Part 2
Continuation of this story. I didn't want to make the original fic too long, but in reality Bernie’s sickness wasn't over!
Kinks: emetophilia
OCs: Bernie
Summary: During his way back home, Bernie starts feeling sick on the bus again. ;)
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On the way back home, I sat next to a window. (My jeans were a little dirty with vomit, but I don’t think anyone on the bus noticed.) I felt fine at first. But the sun was shining on my face and after a few stops, the heat inside the bus became unbearable. I felt ill and found it hard to breathe. I wasn’t sure if I was nauseous again or just overheated, but I was starting to feel increasingly unwell. An old lady that was sitting next to me nudged me and told me to give my seat to an old man who was standing nearby. I looked up and saw that the bus was getting very full. I got up and held onto a handrail, but standing was making me feel even more queasy. 
When saliva started collecting in my mouth, I looked around in panic. There were people everywhere, but I didn’t want to vomit straight onto somebody, they wouldn’t like that. I tried to think about what to do. I concluded that the safest way would be to stand facing the edge of the bus so that there are no people in front of me. I managed to squeeze my way to the door. The door opened, and the fresh breeze on my face made me feel a little better. "I might make it home afterall," I thought. 
I should have known that was not going to happen, based on the previous journey...
I was only a few stops from my home when I felt my stomach churn. I gripped the handrail tighter and clenched my teeth. “Nonono, not now, not now...” I thought, swallowing saliva. The bus was still tightly packed and I was being pressed to the door. If I throw up on the door now, there’s no way it isn’t gonna splash all over me.
A part of me found this image really, really hot.
The other part was worried about my neighbours seeing me come home stained head to toe with vomit.
While I was trying to decide if I should get off at the next stop or not, I realized I was not getting a choice. Bitter saliva was already gathering on my tongue, and the next stop was nowhere in sight.
Oh no, oh no, oh no...
I made sure to face the door and tried to take in deep breaths to calm my stomach, but it wasn’t calming down!
I swallowed down nausea, but it wasn’t working anymore.
“Huuuuuurk!” I lurched forward and watery vomit shot out of my mouth, splashing on the door of the bus and reflecting back at me. I felt a few drops on my face and this sensation sent a tingle all the way to my cock. I realized I was getting hard and I really, really hoped the other passengers were not going to notice. I heard gasps all around me, and people trying to shuffle out of the way in the overcrowded bus.
I retched once more, and felt the vomit splashing against me. I coughed up a few chunks at the end, which felt really good. My shoes were swimming in a pool of vomit, the whole front of my jeans was stained, and there were drops of sick on my T-shirt as well. I was very, very dirty. This thought made me even more aroused, which wasn’t really helping the situation.
Relief washed all over me, and I realized I was done puking for now.
The door suddenly opened and I almost fell out of the bus, as I didn’t realize we had arrived at a bus stop already. I stepped out of the bus and shook off some chunks from my shoes. Many people got out of the bus by the other door. I’m not sure if it was their stop or they were just trying to get away from me. I pondered what to do for a second, but since I wasn’t sure the next driver would let me in when I’m this dirty, and this bus was already messy anyway, I decided to get back in and ride two more stops home.
I stood next to my vomit, I don’t know why I did that, I probably could have stood elsewhere, but I liked watching it flow this way and that way based on the movements of the bus. 
When I was nearing my stop, I was starting to get really worried - what if someone who knows my mom sees me like this... So I walked home really fast.
That’s all! Hope you’ve enjoyed my little adventure. ;)
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>> Part 3 (coming soon)
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madam-wakefield · 3 months
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Decorating the tree
Just my little drabble for the @berenaadvent day 4 prompt “duck”
Read on A03
Bernie had never really been one for decorating for Christmas. She’s spent more of her adult Christmases deployed somewhere or another and it was always Marcus and the children who decorated. Even on the few occasions she was at home working at the local army camp they decorated without her. Never wanted to wait for the weekend for her to be free always wanting to put the Christmas decorations up on the first day of December. Bernie didn’t begrudge them it, it’s what they did when she was deployed so why should they change it just because she wasn’t.
Serena is different however, Serena always wants them to decorate together and Bernie loves it. They are about to spend their third Christmas together and true to form Serena has waited until they have a shared day off to set about tackling the decorations.
Bernie had been into the loft the night previous, thankful for only being on a short shift rather than one of the usual long days. And now they are stood in the living room surround by all the Christmas decorations Serena has collected over the years. It’s maybe the only thing that makes Bernie feel a little sad, that she doesn’t have any, Marcus kept all what they had collected as a family after the divorce.
“Do you want to tackle the lights and I’ll set about sorting the tinsel ready for the tree? We can then add the baubles and decorations together. Then once that’s done we can sort out everything else?”
“Sounds perfect.” Bernie says before leaning into give Serena a kiss, for no other reason than because she can.
Half an hour later and Bernie is just finishing changing the last of the dead bulbs in the lights. It’d taken her 15 minutes to untangle them all, she doesn’t understand that, because they always wrap them up so carefully when they take them down. Her back is complaining so she’d taken to standing to complete the job rather than crouching on the floor.
“Duck please dear,” she hears Serena’s voice come from above her. Bernie glancing up to see Serena stood on the step ladder set just to her side, hands splayed out to sort out the tree branches to look exactly how she wants them. Bernie knows better than the argue and ducks obediently, feels a few loose pin needles drop onto her head as Serena fiddles with the branches.
“Thank you.” Serena says, her cue that she can once again stand tall. They work together from there to wrap the lights around the tree in just the perfect way. It’s Bernie who climbs the ladder to wrap the lights around the top of the tree. Looks down to see Serena has already started on the tinsel at the bottom, to make the whole job a little quicker.
“It’s your turn to duck, sweetheart, unless you want to join these lights on the tree.” She watches as Serena raises an eyebrow at her but complies anyway. Allowing Bernie to wrap the last of the lights around the tree.
“Okay you can try turning them on now,” it’s easy from Serena’s already stooped state and as the lights flash to life Bernie does think they look magical.
The rest of the day finds them adding baubles and decorations to the tree before setting out to decorate the rest of the house. Wreathes on the doors, lights in the windows, tinsel around photos frames and general Christmas ornaments laid here and there.
As has been tradition for the past three years the final decoration to be hung is the sprig of mistletoe that always gets placed in the doorway between the hallway and the living room. Once it’s firmly in place both women duck under it and share a long lingering kiss. Knowing they have an excuse to do just that every day for the next few weeks, not that they really need one of course.
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lipstickmarks · 4 months
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Big Bang Characters Favorite Taylor Swift Albums + General Swiftie Behavior
Amy - folklore girlie. screams “don’t call me kid, don’t call me baby, look at this godforsaken mess that you made me” at the top of her fucking lungs. honorable mention to evermore bc tolerate it reminds her of her relationship with her mom🙁 Also a speak now girlie bc amy definitely is the type of person to have an objecting at a wedding fantasy.
Sheldon - 1989. He loves all of taylor’s pop songs and gets a huge kick out of her using math in her announcements
Leonard - LOVER!!! Leonard is such a soft soul and a hopeless romantic. Lover resonates with him because he is so so so in love but has a lot of relationship anxiety (thinking Penny will leave him, assuming he’d never be happy again if she did) and I just know he had the most raw, full-body cry after listening to Afterglow because while Penny may be the more emotionally distant one, he has committed more tangible crimes against their relationship (kissing Mandy, hiding money from Penny, going behind her back to tell her dad she didn’t want kids). Lover reminds Leonard of his relationship with Penny: the good, the bad, and the ugly.
Penny - a stan since debut. Speaking as a girl who grew up in a rural area with country music loving parents, a lifelong Taylor Swift obsession is included in your welcome packet. I don’t think she’d have a favorite album in particular, just rocks out to everything. Debut, Fearless, and 1989 probably dominate her Spotify though.
Raj - how dare you make him pick. he is the swiftie to end all swifties. Saw her tour Red, Reputation, and absolutely had tickets to LoverFest and was so depressed when it was cancelled. Best believe he was fighting for his life in the ticketmaster queue for Eras tickets. He went to Eras twice. He’s the first to text the group chat about swiftie announcements and album drop theories (he was muted). Has the folklore cardigan. Gun to his head, folklore and Red are his top picks.
Howard - spends every weekend trying to find HD footage of the vigilante shit choreography. he wasn’t into taylor at first until raj was watching the reputation tour movie at his house and he got a glimpse of spicy tay. After that, he made a playlist of all her sexy songs (he and I are one)
Bernadette - REPUTATION. Bernie loves a good “fuck you” song. She also respects taylor as a business woman and is 100% behind her re-records. Top favorite songs are The Man, I Did Something Bad, and This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things
Stuart - like penny, no particular album is his favorite but he just loves all her depressing songs. he heard anti-hero on the speakers at the grocery store on day and went “yep, that’s me.” and downloaded the song on his iPod because stuart is absolutely the type to still have an iPod fucking nano in the 2020s
Denise - Fearless🫶🏻 she loves to sing out loud when the comic book store is closed.
Burt - he prefers her live shows and listens to the rock version of i knew you were trouble
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