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apocalypse-shuffle · 1 year

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RED HOOD | BATFAMILY (assorted canon)

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“Long Overdue” (Jason Todd & Batmom!Reader) and (background Bruce Wayne x Batmom!Reader)

| Reader was with Bruce in the past but grew distant after Jason’s death. No one tells her when he comes back from the dead until Bruce is forced to bring her in on a raid when they’re overwhelmed. -Jason and Batmom!Reader reunion.

| SFW, canon typical action/violence, cursing?

| This is like half fanon half UTRH/Batman:Hush. I’m really just fucking around with canon rn. Also the pictures used are just for aesthetics and have no contextual meaning to the story. (pic source - Batman: Three Jokers comic)

| 2k+ words

| parts: one, spurt, two, three, four, five, six/six point five, seven.

Jason stays largely impassive as Alfred checks him out. The only “wounds” he actually managed to obtain were two long surface level cuts from a buff guy with a lucky knife, the mildest limp known to man, and some bruises. He’s got bigger stuff to worry about than what little damage he took.

Somehow Mask had gotten wind that Hood had set his eyes on his most recent purchase and had responded by borrowing some of Penguin's men while the man was in court, catching Jason off guard. That either meant that Jason was getting sloppy or his collective had a mole.

A goddamn mole. Whoever it was must’ve been stupid or crazy to think they could get this over his head. Now he’ll have to deal with them, and soon, before he starts on any more plans.

There’s a pat on his arm that has Jason turning his head.

“There you go, Master Jason. Hardly a scratch and everything is treated.”

“Didn’t pay all this money on armor to get a scratch from a whole buncha pocket knives and baseball bats, Alfred.”

The old butler only raises a brow.

“Yes well, a particularly nasty bullet wound in Master Dick’s leg says anything is possible on a given day. Armor or no,” Alfred points to the two raised lines on either side of his forearms where he’d blocked that buff guy's slash for his face. “And clearly some fellow with a pocket knife did get a knick or two in.”

Jason shrugs. The guy had been aiming for his face. His face that had only been a target because he’d blown up the old helmet to catch Batman’s attention and his forearms and following Bruce’s rules were a small price to pay for those kids' safety.

“Still beat him though, so I think I’m good,” he spares the man a small fleeting smile.

Alfred worried too much over Bruce. Jason didn’t want him doing the same and stressing overtime about him as well.

“Of course,” Alfred says softly, patting him on the arm once more before turning to check up on whether Dick’s gotten enough food in him to get another dose of the good stuff.

Why the man had decided to fly off to help Jason when he was already injured was anybody's guess. Jason certainly wasn’t going to think about it too hard. His feelings around Dick were enough of a nightmare to detangle.

Jason’s ready to take that as his leave, wanting out before Nightfall and Batman - or godforbid, his replacement - throw his entire mood away, when a lone figure comes ambling into the Cave on foot and sends everyone on alert.

Dick hobbles rather gracefully for someone with a hole in his calf over to the Batcomputer to check the entrance cameras. Alfred admonishes him for putting too much pressure on his leg so soon after he’s reopened his stitches but follows after him nonetheless.

Jason closes in not far behind the two, hand hovering over his gun as he eyes the lone figure. They’re not in a rush or anything, that’s for sure. He’s never seen someone who wanted to kill him have such low gumption.

It hits him and he relaxes his hand a second before you call out.

“It’s me, guys! I just needed a break from Bruce so I walked!”

Your voice is different, he notes. Hoarse, fraying at the edges. Jason is intimately familiar with the feeling of falling apart. At Bruce’s hand too no less, which is undoubtedly why you're walking instead of pulling up with him. He can’t find it in him to feel too bad though. You might’ve taken a bullet for him but you were still a dick.

Alfred takes to guiding you towards the med bay, talking to you like you’re old friends, but Jason’s never seen you before outside of tonight. As far as he knew the only female vigilante operating out of Gotham had been Batgirl before that fucking clown got to her too, and the only other woman of the house didn’t live here anymore.

Which is yet another thing Jason really doesn’t want to think about. He had felt pretty damn vindicated to learn about Y/n’s separation from Bruce until he pieced together the timeline and that the most likely cause for the split had been himself. He can admit to feeling bad about that for her sake. When he was a boy her and Bruce had seemed happy, he didn't want to be the cause of that ending for the woman.

Something harsh strikes through his chest and he forces his gaze off Nightfall and Alfred.

He needed to tell Y/n. She deserved to know - he wanted her to know! - he just didn’t want to deal with the inevitable. With Bruce the uncertainty pissed him off. He had needed the truth so bad it burned through him harsher than the pit snapping his mind back together ever could.

Problem was that in the end the answer had actually hurt. For all his speculations and phantom conversations with the man he once happily called “dad” none had been enough to prepare him for the reality of watching his father choose The Mission over him in real time.

Maybe that wasn’t a fair assessment of the situation but to that Jason says: “So what?”

Maybe Bruce did love him, and maybe what made him throw that batarang wasn’t resentment or disappointment, but he still threw it. Through everything Jason still came second and Bruce still didn’t love him enough to fight for him.

He can’t keep ignoring that it wasn’t him that drew Bruce to Ethiopia that April; it was the Joker that drew Batman. Bruce hadn’t even been looking for him, and he could understand why, but that didn’t mean he had to be okay with it.

Either way, the little boy Jason used to be had stupidly expected to be proven wrong in that dilapidated apartment building.

Jason hasn’t listened to that particular ghost since having to hold his throat together.

“Red!”

He blinks back into himself to find the rest of him already in a defensive position at Dick Nightwing’s proximity.

“I’ve got some files for you if you’re interested. We haven’t been able to figure out what all Mask’s recent moves have meant, but if you cross reference it with whatever info you’ve got maybe…” the look he sends Jason feels pointed so he huffs and moves closer.

“I’ll be able to catch him up. Yeah, Wing, thanks.” He crosses his arms and raises a brow. “Whatdya want for it?”

Nightwing turns to him slowly. “Nothing. I don’t want a damn thing, Red,” he shrugs. “Consider it a favor.”

“Right. A favor.”

Jason doesn’t buy that that’s all he wants for a second. The more plausible reason is that the harddrive he’ll be given is bugged. So far they haven’t been able to find any of his operation and he knows Bruce has been chomping at the bit to find out what hole in the wall he crawls into at night.

His line of speculation gets cut off by Nightwing starting to prattle along about the contents of every file he’s giving him.

“I figure I could give you an update on Penguin’s case while you’re here too,” he glances back for Jason’s stiff nod before doing just that.

Jason half pays attention to flashes of Cobblepot taking the stand while largely doing his best to remember which of his guys ever worked closely with the man who’s nice and calm being held under public scrutiny.

It was City Hall’s worst kept secret that they were bought out by some big boss or the other. Cobblepot wouldn’t be convicted and they all knew it. Gotham’s politicians couldn’t ever leave well enough alone though and just had to go the extra mile of broadcasting their cities inner failings to the rest of the country.

“Hey.”

At the sound of his voice Jason immediately snaps his gaze to Nightwing. He doesn’t look back this time, eyes continuing to stay focused on the batcomputer’s giant screen.

“I just wanna say the offer still stands. Jay,” his name comes off rough from the other’s mouth. “I might not…agree with what you’re doing, but call me and I’ll be there, okay? My number’s still the same. If you remember it?”

The not-glance Nightwing sends him makes his throat constrict suspiciously. This was exactly why he was avoiding the acrobat. He’s all the more glad he decided to get a replacement instead of toughing this encounter out sans helmet.

“Yeah, I remember it,” he forces out.

“Good.” Nightwing continues, voice still oddly pinched while he drops another file into the harddrive’s folder. “That’s good.”

The trial tapers off after that and Grayson stops drawing out their conversation, closing out the tabs he’d opened and leaning over to snatch out the drive.

When he turns to him the older’s face is noticeably paler than before and his hands are clammy when he gives Jason his lackluster reward for putting up with the night’s bullshit.

He forces his arms down to his sides when Grayson stumbles into the table, no doubt bruising his hip, before stabilizing himself again with a tiny laugh. Jason will never admit that as much as it irritates him, he still admires the way Grayson manages to keep the sound from cracking at the edges.

Ever the fucking paragon.

“Thanks,” he nods to the medbay where Alfred and Nightfall are talking as she’s bandaged up. “And go lay down already before you collapse. I will laugh at you if you fall.”

“Heh, yeah, I’d better,” he runs his hand through his hair. “If I pass out again mom’ll kill me.”

Dick’s hand pauses midway through his hair and Jason can tell from the way he goes rigid that his eyes have snapped to where he’s standing.

He huffs, shoves the drive in his pocket and gives the older a mock salute before turning on his heels. On another day he’d probably harp on Grayson for the carelessness, make him squirm just for the hell of it, but he’s reached his people index for the day and he’s got work to do.

His second mother - not counting Sheila and her shitty cigarettes; he hopes she rots - is also someone he does not want to keep being reminded of and staying here will clearly be nothing but that.

She’s a subject he unfortunately can’t stop thinking about now though and he’s so over it his head’s starting to pound.

‘mom’ll kill me.’

Mom.

Y/n.

Jason counts his way through a deep breath. He’s got Nightwing’s information, now he can leave to start sorting his own mess with his people the Bat-Refuted way.

With Y/n he wasn’t going to let himself exist with a child's placations that maybe she’d prove him wrong. He already made that mistake with Bruce. She was his mom. In the same way Bruce was once his dad, but he’s not fifteen anymore and he no longer believes wholeheartedly in the second chance they’d provided. He can’t.

But still, for whatever bastardized mockery of life is in him, he doesn’t want the truth from Y/n as well. So no matter how much he craves to hear her voice again and feel her arms around him, the chances that she’ll reject the son Bruce forced upon her this time round were too high and he was tired of gambling.

He should rip the bandaid off sooner rather than later though, for his sake if nothing else. He wasn’t finished with Gotham yet and all the ‘what ifs’ stampeding over his train of thought could get him killed too early.

Again.

And nobody wants to read about another dead gutter rat who thought he could fly.

…TBC

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed! This chapter is supposed to be a brief slow down before I get back into the emotional gutter with part five.

I’m like 50/50 on this. I was trying to make everything connect but I don’t really think I succeeded. And what I mean by that is that some of Jason’s thought processes don’t flow smoothly into one another the way I want, but I’m tired of poking at it so this is what y’all get.

Regardless, I’m not mad at it and if you’d like to leave a comment that’d be appreciated, but I won’t respond cause this is a sideblog. I read everything though. 🫶🏾

Edited (cause I forgot what I wrote) on 3/18/23

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luvvewan · 3 years

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I'm so excited you are taking prompt again!!! For the hurt/comfort dialogue prompt #12, “You’re normally the tough guy. Today, let me be tough for the both of us.” From Obi-Wan to Qui-Gon. It doesn't have to be exact words, because I am honestly having trouble picturing Obi calling Qui a "tough guy"....

Thank you cass-rw for the prompt! I did change the dialogue up a little, as you suggested: “You have protected me more times than I can count, Master. This time, let me protect you.”

I’m still accepting prompts! This one got me good, wrote the whole thing this morning instead of doing any chores. It was glorious.

—

“No.”

Obi-Wan turned away, gathering a breath. The vastness of the dark forest beyond the small cave stared at him and he stared back, half in fear, half in wild, unearned hope. He knew from his research back on the ship, before all of this happened, before—he blinked and swallowed, shooing away the intrusive thoughts. He needed to be clear-headed. Focused. Alright, he could do that. On the ship, he had read about a small village somewhere in this forest.

People. Medicine, perhaps. Help.

“Padawan.”

The hand on his wrist tightened, though the pressure was still alarmingly weak. Obi-Wan looked down at his Master. “What else would I do? Leave you here to..” the words caught in his throat and he shook his head. “Master, you know I must do this.”

Qui-Gon’s blue eyes were clouded with pain, but they focused on Obi-Wan. Sweat gleamed on his too-pale skin. His long hair had come loose somewhere along the way and hung limply around his face. “You must…do as I say,” he managed to rasp.

Obi-Wan wiped the sweat from Qui-Gon’s brow with the edge of his sleeve. Heat blazed against his fingers where they brushed against his teacher’s forehead. “Let me look at it.”

Qui-Gon tensed where he was slouched against the rough cave wall. His hand crept over the wound. “There’s nothing to be done, young one. We called for help. They’ll…” he paused, trying to wet his dry lips, “Someone will come.”

With a careful touch, Obi-Wan pulled Qui-Gon’s hand away, so he could see the tiny tear in Qui-Gon’s tunic, rust-colored blood blooming around it.

Not very much blood, but then, it wasn’t blood loss Obi-Wan was worried about. It was the poison.

Qui-Gon must have noticed the change in his expression, despite Obi-Wan’s best efforts to appear calm, because he reached for Obi-Wan, patting his knee. “It seems to be slow-acting. I feel…okay, right now. We were lucky to find shelter.” A moan escaped him, and Obi-Wan helped him settle on the ground, quickly shedding his own robe and rolling it up under Qui-Gon’s head.

The cave was decent enough shelter, and the Force shields were added camouflage, well-worth the strain to Obi-Wan. Master Windu had said no skill was mastered until used in the field; certainly Obi-Wan had never maintained a Force shield for so long before. But he knew it would not be enough. The Noxii hunters that chased them were cunning and quick—able to land the poisoned dart in Qui-Gon’s flank before Obi-Wan even understood what was happening. There was no doubt in Obi-Wan’s mind that the Noxxi would catch up to them, despite the advantages the Force afforded them.

Which was why he needed to go for help. The Noxxi were outlaws, with very little support outside of the extreme fringes of society. He doubted the modest village was a haven for criminals, but they might be sympathetic to a young Jedi. The problem was he could not get through the dense forest fast enough with Qui-Gon in tow. If the Noxxi found them on their journey, Obi-Wan wasn’t sure he could defend himself and his Master from them all. Yes, he was sure he needed to make the trip alone. He would be infinitely faster. Once he reached the village, he could borrow a speeder, medical supplies…

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon called to him, softly, from the ground.

He had two water skins in his pack. He would leave them both with Qui-Gon, and just take a swig before he set off. If necessary, he knew how to coax water from the forest.

“Obi-Wan.”

He’d need to gently pull Qui-Gon further into the cave, as far into the concealment of the shadows as possible, and cover him with branches and moss, so the Noxxi might not notice him, if they passed through while Obi-Wan was gone. Qui-Gon would have his lightsaber if—

“PADAWAN.”

The harsh whisper cut through everything. Obi-Wan’s stomach flipped at the obvious rebuke in the word. He kneeled beside Qui-Gon, head bowed in acknowledgement. His raggedy braid slipped out from behind his shoulder and dangled between them.

Qui-Gon inhaled, as if gathering the strength merely to speak. “I told you, young one. I forbid this.”

Obi-Wan swallowed hard. “I cannot stay here and wait for you to die, Qui-Gon.”

An unexpected smile briefly brightened Qui-Gon’s eyes. He lifted his hand, and Obi-Wan ducked down to meet it. His mentor cradled Obi-Wan’s cheek in a wide, clammy palm. “I cannot let you leave when it might kill you, Padawan. You will not do this. Not for me.”

Obi-Wan blinked against the sudden prick of warm moisture in his eyes. He squeezed Qui-Gon’s hand and rocked a little, letting the wave of worry and fear crest within him before replacing it with the steadiness of resolve, duty, the Force. “You have protected me more times than I can count, Master. This time, let me protect you.”

Despite his growing fragility, Qui-Gon dragged him in closer, until their foreheads were nearly pressed together.

Obi-Wan could feel the sick-sour breath against his face. He was not an initiate, or even a child anymore, but something inside him wanted to curl into the comfort of his Master, someone older and wiser, and hope the threats around them just vanished into the cool night air.

Qui-Gon stroked the back of his head, smoothing down the nerftail. “It is my duty…” he coughed and moaned, his pain spiking through their Force connection. “My duty to protect you. Don’t take that from me.”

He had very rarely gone against Qui-Gon in their near-decade as master and apprentice. Obi-Wan knew it was the right thing to do in this instance, but it didn’t make it easier. He could be sanctioned by the Council, or worse, damage the bond between himself and the man who had raised him. Yet no conceivable consequence mattered when Qui-Gon’s life was at stake.

He would do what he must.

Obi-Wan shored up the guards around his thoughts while allowing Qui-Gon access to his general presence in the Force. He emanated frustration and dutiful acceptance, emotions of a loyal Padawan’s surrender. “Yes, Master,” he answered at last.

A relieved, shaky sigh. “Thank you.”

—

Qui-Gon came to the independent conclusion that they should settle in the depths of the cave. Obi-Wan was sweating and trembling a bit himself by the time it was done.

His Master apologized for his helplessness and insisted Obi-Wan drink from a water skin.

Obi-Wan helped Qui-Gon take a few slow sips before doing as he was told, just a swallow to soothe the dry burn in his throat. The night ripened outside the cave; he heard the drone of nocturnal insects, the rustle of a slight wind through the trees.

“Come here,” Qui-Gon tugged at his tabards and Obi-Wan turned, crawling over to him. The ceiling of the cave was much lower here, claustrophobic. He wasn’t sure how a man of Qui-Gon’s size had been able to fit, but Obi-Wan was neither tall nor broad, and squeezed in beside his teacher.

Qui-Gon was spread on his side, head still pillowed by Obi-Wan’s robe. Obi-Wan drew closer at Qui-Gon’s urging, until he was snug in the curve of his Master’s body, and a heavy arm rested over top of him.

“Help will come,” Qui-Gon murmured against his hair.

Obi-Wan watched the night-flies twinkle and wink at the mouth of the forest. He wondered how long it would be until someone received their message, way out here. He wasn’t so sure Qui-Gon would be alive when reinforcements finally arrived. “I can help you,” he tried again, this time using a different tactic. “Do you think I’m incapable?”

Obi-Wan felt immediately guilty for pretending to be offended, for questioning his Master at all in a dire time like this. A large hand laid on his chest, over his heart.

“There is nothing of which you are incapable,” Qui-Gon told him, his feeble voice somehow filling up the entire cave. “It is me. Obi-Wan. I..I am…incapable of losing you.”

Obi-Wan felt Qui-Gon’s lips press into his sweaty hair.

“Someone will come. Just stay here with me, Padawan.”

Obi-Wan found he couldn’t speak so he nodded, the forest suddenly blurring. He listened to Qui-Gon’s breathing slow down, though it did not find a healthy rhythm. He sensed the poison seeping through his Master’s aura, like a scum-squid’s fatal ink spreading in clear, clean water.

The dart was wrapped up in a cloth in one of his belt pouches. He wondered if a healer could at least vaguely identify the toxin from inspection of the dart. Qui-Gon’s symptoms were so common—fever, weakness, pain. How difficult would it be to narrow the options down?

He needed time. He couldn’t wait.

As if he could hear the direction of Obi-Wan’s thoughts, Qui-Gon pulled him tighter to his chest, inhaling fitfully in his sleep.

The dirt was surprisingly soft under Obi-Wan’s cheek. His adrenaline waned now that he was lying down and his own, slighter injuries made themselves known. He had some painful bruising on his back from a fall during their desperate, clumsy escape from the Noxxi ambush. Headache raged behind his temples. He wasn’t certain what hour it was, only moderately confident in the date, but it had been a long while since he’d eaten or slept.

Was Qui-Gon right? Would the travail to the village pose too great a risk? Obi-Wan shut his eyes, the headache pulsing harder. He wondered if he might be concussed. Perhaps he was overestimating his abilities. After all, he was not yet a senior Padawan, and his own Master, a devastatingly adept warrior, had been felled by these hunters.

He let the warmth of Qui-Gon’s arms settle in his bones. He knew the man’s plan had been exactly this, to keep Obi-Wan so close there was no way he could leave the cave without Qui-Gon knowing. Right now, Obi-Wan could not even roll over onto his other side and not awaken his Master.

He thought of Qui-Gon’s fear, a slash of silver in the black night. No fear for himself, of course.

I am incapable of losing you.

Obi-Wan understood what Qui-Gon had meant by those words, because Obi-Wan felt the same way. Losing his Master was not something he would survive. And he had not been taught to surrender in the face of mortal danger.

Resolved, his eyes flew open, and Obi-Wan steeled himself for what he needed to do next. He was no match for Qui-Gon, in Force strength or physical might, except the poison was stealing away his vitality with every passing moment. In their current circumstance, Obi-Wan might be able to nudge Qui-Gon deeper into sleep, maybe even a healing trance, and then he could extract himself from the protective embrace.

They had not covered Force suggestions among fellow Jedi before, not even at the Temple. Obi-Wan supposed it was a more advanced technique for a mid-level Padawan. Or Qui-Gon just didn’t want him to know how to do it because…well, because of situations such as the one they were in now.

Luckily, Qui-Gon was unshielded, and his unconscious Force presence floated out in the open. Obi-Wan sent calm sensations along the ties that held them together.

I am alright. I am here with you.

He repeated the messages, dispatching more and more, letting them carry Qui-Gon deeper into the soft, sheltering void of sleep.

Poison cannot touch you. You are of the Force. The Force cannot be poisoned. May the Force be with you, Qui-Gon Jinn.

He was not a healer, any more than he was a Jedi Master, but Obi-Wan wished fervently for a blessing, that his attempts at healing would do something to help Qui-Gon.

Obi-Wan waited a few minutes, until he sensed Qui-Gon sink well below the surface. Then he very carefully pulled back the arm that held him, and inched out, replacing it on the bed of powdery dirt.

His hand drifted to his belt, alighting on his saber, and touching the leather pouch where the deadly dart was stored, just to be sure. He set the water skins close to Qui-Gon and placed leaves, branches and tangled moss on top and around him. He spared a second to study his Master, just in case—

No. There was no just in case.

Only the Force.

Obi-Wan wanted to touch Qui-Gon’s bearded cheek, but worried it would wake him. His throat felt like it was closing. “Forgive me,” he whispered, and sneaked out of the cave, away from his wounded Master and into the night, towards help.

#star wars #obi-wan kenobi #qui-gon jinn #obi-wan #fanfic #obi wan and qui gon fanfiction #fanfic prompts #LuvEwan prompts

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naralanis · 3 years

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My first pen was a Pilot Metro Retro. And was promptly broke by an E-2 I let borrow it to sign paperwork (i kept the cap so he would have to give it back, but alas). And then a couple years later I jumped to a TWSBI Vac700 Iris. Anyway, i have a few different pens, but I havent found even a basic instruction on how to tune tines or maintain them besides washing them out with distilled water. And suggestions?

Hi there! Sorry about your Metro, and hope you're happy with the TWSBI! I once let someone borrow my Décimo and they... mangled it. Heartbreaking! I was eventually able to fix it, but it took some doing, and it was also a last ditch effort -- I was already fully prepared to dish out the money for a brand new nib unit, so I figured there was no harm in trying.

I'll get to the easy stuff first: if your fountain pen is writing OK, it doesn't really require more maintenance than a good flush every now and then. You don't even have to use distilled water (unless the water in your area is like, exceedingly mineral-heavy) -- plain tap water and regular dish soap will do just fine.

As for nib tuning/readjustments, they are not part of a pen's general maintenance. Readjustments are done if there's a problem with how your pen is writing, and personally I view nib tuning as something done to improve the experience to the user -- mostly to smooth a scratchy nib.

Here's the short answer as to why info on making these adjustments is a little less widespread (though still relatively easy to find):

1) While often simple, these alterations can be a bit fiddly, and it's very easy to irreparably damage your pen.

2) These alterations, but especially tuning/otherwise modifying your nib/feed, will almost certainly automatically void your pen's warranty.

Keep that in mind if you decide to undertake any tuning -- it is always at your own (and your pen's) risk.

That's the short of it! For the (much, much) longer version, as always, see below the cut!

sorry this one took so long, I got really, really into it and it is stupidly long adalskjadhls

So, first things first. Your pen writes completely fine, you wash it every now and then or whenever you're changing inks, and have an overall pleasurable experience writing with it.

Congrats! Nothing else needs to be done. Enjoy your pen.

Now, let's say your pen isn't writing completely fine. Maybe it's skipping, maybe it feels scratchy, maybe it's laying down too much ink or not enough.

Before you go straight to tuning your nib, the first thing you do is: you clean it.

"But Nara, I already cleaned it." Clean it again. You'd be amazed how often a more thorough flush fixes simple flow problems -- do it with dish soap if you used only water the second time.

The next step? Try a different ink, if you have some. Then, try some different paper. It's good to have a paper/ink combo that you're familiar with to use as a standard. I like to use a Rhodia No. 19 Dot Pad and Waterman Serenity Blue to test all of my pens -- nearly every pen I buy writes an 'inauguration' page with that exact combination.

If your pen is a cartridge/converter, always make sure the cartridge or converter is the right fit and that it's seated properly. It should fit securely without a ton of pressure -- if you can basically bop it off without trying, it's probably the wrong fit. If the converter provided to you by the retailer doesn't fit, contact them -- maybe you got a defective pen.

Alright, so you've done all of the above, but your pen is still writing funky or not at all. Now it's time to take a closer look at the nib.

Enjoy this expertly made reference image I made on my phone before I realized I could just link you to a better one.

Before you start researching how to tune/grind your nib, let's check the nib and feed alignment -- the feed is what allows the ink to travel from reservoir to paper, and if cleaning your pen hasn't solved the problem, there's a good chance it is probably not seated correctly.

Here's what you should check for:

1) Make sure your feed is flush to the underside of your nib

If there's a major gap between the underside of your nib and the top of the feed (where the ink channel is), the ink simply can't get to where it needs to be (i.e. the tip of the nib). I

If there is a major gap, you can check if your nib and feed are seated correctly in the nib section. This depends a little bit on the pen and the model, but most of the time, you can try grasping nib and feed together and gently pushing down. Remember to never grab your nib by the shoulders/tines, as that will most likely ruin it.

2) Make sure your feed is properly centered with the nib.

This is easier to check if your pen has a breather hole, which most of them do. Basically, check to see if the ink channel at the top of your feed (you can see it through the breather hole) lines up with the ink slit. Here's a good example:

And here are... not so good ones. Coincidentally, both on Conklin pens.

This is usually a simple fit -- sometimes you can gently wriggle it back in place. Other times, you need to remove the nib and feed from the collar (basically the plastic thing that holds the nib unit together) or they are friction fit to the section altogether (like in the Lamy AL-Star). Do a bit of research on your pen model before you try disassembling it.

Feed is centered? All good to go? OK, now we move on to checking the metalworks, so to speak. I recommend using a magnifying glass or loupe for this part. Here's the one I use.

4) Check your tines for a) factory oopsies and b) misalignment.

Here's an example of tines that were just... cut very wrong (sorry for poo-poo pic quality, but you should be able to see the tine on the right just... ain't right)

In the case above, contact your retailer. I noticed this one before even inking my pen, but they should cover a replacement regardless.

DISCLAIMER: all adjustments from here on out may void your pen's warranty.

(maybe not a simple realignment, but don't risk it, or ask your retailer before you try anything).

Here's an example of slightly misaligned tines (ON THE SAME PEN AFTER EXCHANGE BTW).

I stupidly didn't get pictures of my Décimo or the Duragraph above looking straight at nib pointing up -- you could actually see one of the tines sloping slightly downward. That causes unbearable (to me) scratchiness and can tear off paper fibers. No fun.

There are better examples from JetPens' Fountain Pen Troubleshooting Guide (which you should absolutely check out!)

You can fix misaligned tines yourself. It requires patience, a little pressure, and a lot of finesse not to overdo it. You can manually bend the tines back into place, but before you try it yourself, I recommend going to YouTube to see how other pen people do it. My method is similar to this one, but there are several others. You can use your fingernail to push it down, just be very careful with how much force you use.

The one method I personally don't recommend is, ironically, the one JetPens recommend on their guide. It might work just fine, but I just think it is way too easy to overdo it and get splayed tines or create a major gap between nib and feed.

OK, seems like the tines on your pen are fine? Time to...

5) Check the distance between your tines.

Your tines should, ideally, be juuust a hair apart-- only enough for the ink and capillary action do their thing. They shouldn't be touching, since that would hinder ink flow, but there should not be a gulf of distance between them either. Let's revisit another Conklin

Yay. Fun.

This is also fairly simple to fix, but again: you have to be delicate about it. I manually manipulate my tines into position and kind of go by feel by now, always testing and checking with my loupe. Here's how PenBoyRoy does it:

youtube

Again, there are many different methods, and you will often hear different things from different pen people. It's down to preference and what works for you!

OK, now we've gone through an odyssey of troubleshooting (I AM SO SORRY), let's talk about nib tuning.

Yet another disclaimer: doing anything I describe below will 100% void your pen's warranty.

Tuning your nib isn't necessarily fixing it. It certainly can, if you've done pretty much all of the above and everything looks fine but the pen isn't writing the way you want it to. I use it to smooth down pens that are technically writing OK, but the experience of writing with them isn't entirely pleasant for me.

Essentially, you're using a rougher surface to basically... 'sand down' your nib. There's a wide variety of techniques (from using a rough paper bag all the way to actual fine-grit sanding blocks), but the most important detail you need to remember is you're removing tipping material (however little).

While tuning your nibs isn't necessarily hard, it's very, very easy to overdo it, and that will cause pretty much irreparable damage. If tuning nibs is something you're interested in, practice on inexpensive pens first -- I practiced on ye olde Pilot Varsity.

The Varsity is great to practice tuning because 1) it's super cheap, so even if you fuck it up completely, it's not the end of the world. 2) It has a medium tip.

The bigger the tip = the more tipping material = more room for error.

I mainly use two things to tune my pens: micromesh and mylar paper, which are both super fine abrasives. Goulet (and other pen retailers) sell entire nib-tuning kits with everything you might need to get started, but here's my own (plus a few extras that may look scary, but trust me, you don't need all of this):

In my pen kit above, you can see my newer sheets of micromesh and mylar and the scribbles I use to tune my nibs. I hold the pen the way I normally would when writing with it, and scribble over the abrasive, but I don't do it randomly. Figure 8s are usually the go-to for simple tuning; you can also go a particular direction if you know exactly which area of your nib needs to be smoothed.

Again, even micromesh and mylar paper (particularly the latter) are incredibly fine abrasives, it is still very easy to overdo it. I have fucked up nibs before, mostly on my practice pens, but also on a not-super-cheap pen, and I had to buy a whole new nib unit.

So, like I said, possible? Very! Simple? Sure! Finicky? Hell yeah.

Side note: tuning a nib is mostly just making it write more smoothly. If you'd like to change the shape of the tipping material entirely (and thus create line variation), that is totally something that can be done!

It is called nib grinding, and it is better left to the professionals, but it is super cool!

pOK, I didn't quite mean to go into a full nib troubleshooting post, but I should have known my brain could not be stopped. Hopefully, this (extremely) long-winded, tangent-riddled descent into the rabbit hole was at least a little bit useful!

Thanks for dropping by!

#soulofkeys #ask naralanis and maybe she will deign to respond #fountain pen #pen asks #nara rambles #and holy shit how she rambles #I AM SORRY I COULD NOT HELP MYSELF #anyway #have fun I guess?#also #please do more research than reading what 1 (one) hyperfixated idiot put together on a Tumblr post #I avidly encourage it #pen talk

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forevercloudnine · 3 years

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batman forever riddlebat ship meme

(This one was inevitable. God, do I love this movie. @heroes-etc gave me questions from this ship meme.)

2. Who is the most insecure and what makes them feel better?

The obvious answer here is Edward because he is... clearly and pathologically insecure in his identity and requiring outside approval. You could argue he gets over this once he adopts his flamboyant supervillain identity, but as soon as he steps out of it to be Edward Nygma again he’s as self-conscious as ever. On some level his Bruce cosplay at the Nygmatech party is probably supposed to be a dig at his former idol, but it’s pretty transparent that he’s paranoid about not measuring up, especially once Bruce actually walks in.

As for what makes him feel better, two obvious high points of his self-esteem right off the bat (lol) are when Bruce is giving him positive attention in his intro scene, and directly afterwards when he’s murdering his boss for ragging on him.

Of course, neither external validation or murder is, like, a permanent solution to insecurity. Obviously. If they ever got together Bruce would probably make him go to therapy, which would be incredibly hypocritical because, as Dr. Meridian points out in this movie, that’s not exactly something Bruce is doing. Although in Bruce’s defense, if you count the novelizations as canon for this continuity, the psychiatrist Alfred hired for him as a child basically wrote him off as a lost cause that was going to inevitably self-destruct at some point in adulthood. So I can see why he’d think therapy isn’t for him.

"Young Bruce may seem quite the stalwart, but there’s still a child beneath that veneer of calm acceptance [...] The day will come when that veneer crumbles, and the boy reacts to the memory of his ordeal. Such matters may be postponed, but not indefinitely. And the longer this one is delayed, the greater the damage will be to his psyche.”

“Still,” Alfred pressed. “How do you think this will all come out? Off the record, if you prefer.”

Another pause. “I am not terribly optimistic,” the stout man admitted. “But I assure you, I will do my best.”

Alternatively, Bruce just lets Edward borrow his clothes and calls it a day. It’s less time consuming than therapy and both the movie and novelization demonstrate how into that Edward is.

He was murmuring to himself, “We’ll probably be dining at Wayne Manor together.” He envisioned Bruce sitting across from him, and began to launch into a narrative [...] “Yes. Yes. A Party in my honor? I should have rented a tuxedo. What?” he couldn’t believe it, “One of yours, Bruce?” He gave it a moment’s thought and then shrugged. “Why not? We are the same size.”

3. Who is the most romantic?

Uh, not Bruce! Batman Forever is the most thoughtfully romantic he gets in the entire series, and even here his only two dates ideas are “whatever Gotham social event my secretary tells me I need a date for” and “coming on to my date in my alternate identity to see if she loves me enough not to cheat on me with Batman.” Also, he vacillates between staunchly refusing to do any flirting at all and dishing out the least romantic pick-up lines possible.

You say “bad writing,” I say “totally in character for a hot rich guy who knows that this is as hard as he has to try to get into someone’s pants.” Bruce might love his partner with the intensity of a thousand dying suns, but he’s still sending Alfred to buy all their Valentine’s Day presents. His idea of a romantic evening for two is finally trusting someone enough to tell them his secret identity. If he’s done that already, or they already figured it out, then his playbook is over. That’s clearly the only romantic fantasy he’s ever allowed himself.

(I was going to say he does this once every movie, but he actually never does this in Batman & Robin specifically because he doesn’t actually care about Julie Madison. She proposes to him and he gets her name wrong while shooting her down. Add that to the “Bruce Wayne isn’t romantic” box.)

The ridiculous amount of magazine cut-outs populating Edward’s apartment indicates that he probably has a very vibrant and extensive set of fantasies involving Bruce, which is hinted at a couple times in the novelization.

Edward would certainly know him when he saw him. He’d spent enough time anticipating the moment, after all [...] Finally he was going to be meeting Bruce Wayne face-to-face, and he had every moment of the encounter scripted [...] He’d rehearsed it to perfection in his mind for weeks upon months.

In the grand scheme of things... in the fabulous, sweeping, intertwining destinies of Bruce Wayne and Edward Nygma, such a slip would not even rate a footnote.

He becomes suddenly and painfully aware that if Bruce Wayne walked away without Edward Nygma by his side, then that would be it. It would be finished. All these weeks, months... indeed, a lifetime of planning... and it was crumbling under him just like that.

Of course, that doesn’t necessarily mean his fantasies are all romantic in the traditional sense of the word. This is a man who was charmed by Harvey holding a charity circus hostage with some kind of graffitied missile warhead. Tonally, there’s not even that much of a difference between his crush collages and his riddle death threats.

What’s weirder, using a magazine cutout of someone you hate to make a pop-up card of their face, or using a magazine cutout of someone you love to replace the anatomically correct heart in the cardiovascular system diagram you keep in your apartment/arcade/makeshift laboratory? Probably the former, since it was made with the express purpose of Bruce actually seeing it. Although presumably Edward was planning on taking Bruce to his apartment at some point? And in the novelization, he actually drags Bruce into his cubicle to look at his Wayne Shrine.

He grabbed Bruce’s arms and shouted “No, don’t leave me! I need you!” [...] Bruce was thunderstruck as he was pulled partway into Edward’s office... and then he caught sight of the shrine.

Edwards’s head bobbed eagerly. Now, finally, Bruce would understand the depth of Nygma’s devotion to his idol. He would see how important he was to Nygma.

Notably, the only thing that upsets Bruce about the fact that one of his employees has a serial killer wall dedicated to him at their work station (@heroes-etc: realistically.... IS this the first time this has happened? i doubt it.) is the fact that the shrine includes a picture of him taken directly after his parents’ death, which is obviously a huge trigger for Bruce’s PTSD.

Wayne’s gaze zeroed in on the picture of himself as a young man.

The eyes of Wayne the elder locked with Wayne the younger, and when he slowly turned his scrutiny back to Edward Nygma, Edward could feel the temperature in the cubicle drop to subzero.

Later, once Bruce isn’t being actively reminded of the most traumatizing day of his life, he reflects that he could probably relate to Edward’s specific brand of crazy, and hopes that it’s not too late to try again (it is).

He paused momentarily at Edward Nygma’s cubicle, thinking about the intensity he’d seen in the man’s eyes the other day. Nygma’s ideas might have been a bit odd, but that sort of passion—if properly channeled—could accomplish miracles. That was something Bruce Wayne certainly knew better than anyone else. Perhaps after this fiasco was the time to take Nygma aside under less-pressured circumstances. Start again...

With any other character, I would call bull on their being this unphased by someone being obsessed enough with them to build a stalker shrine, but, like. It’s Batman. He probably has a stalker shrine to Michelle Pfeiffer Catwoman in his cave somewhere. When they start dating, Edward mails the weirdest magazine cutout valentines to his office on the regular, and every time Bruce has to assure his staff that it’s not a ransom letter and it’s just “his boyfriend being romantic.”

9. What is the most embarrassing thing they have done in front of each other?

I mean, by most people’s standards, any one of the things that Edward does in front of Bruce could easily be the most embarrassing thing to happen to them in their lifetime. But for the most part, Edward seems blissfully free of that kind of self-consciousness. He accidentally introduces himself to Bruce as “[extended moaning sound] Bruce Wayne” and shakes it off without even registering his mistake. Even when he feels like Bruce has rejected him and his project, his emotional state is more shocked, saddened, and angry than it is ashamed. He does apologize to Bruce, during the scene where they first meet, for holding on to his hand too long during their handshake. And by “handshake” I mean that Bruce extends his hand to be shaken, and Edward just grabs on and holds it without any motion whatsoever for the entire first half of their conversation. Which might be the only time he ever apologizes in the entire movie. So I’ll say that was his moment of embarrassment.

Bruce only really embarrasses himself in front of Alfred, but Edward does manage to trick Bruce into getting scanned by his mind reading device at the Nygmatech party. Being tricked in general would be pretty awkward for Bruce, since this movie goes out of its way to show the audience how SMART and CLEVER and KNOWLEDGEABLE ABOUT BRAINWAVES Bruce is at every opportunity. But being tricked into getting your mind read is about a million times more embarrassing than just running into a wall like some kind of Looney Tune. Obviously having access to Bruce’s mind allows Edward to figure out that his former boss/current obsessee is Batman, but also it’s just got to be super weird in there. Bruce is a bizarre man.

12. What first changes when it starts getting serious?

Whether he’s idolizing Bruce or plotting his destruction, Edward is still seeing the subject of his lifelong obsession as a larger than life exaggeration of the real man. Some of that pedestal would probably survive into the beginning of a romantic relationship, but by the time they got serious Edward would have had to recognize that Bruce has both positive and negative traits. He would also have had to grapple with the fact that the man he once assumed would make everything in his life better is a lot of work to be around, especially in this movie’s continuity where the trauma of his family’s death and his guilt over allowing enemies like Joker to die are genuinely affecting Bruce’s day-to-day functionality.

(A lot of things, Chase.)

Edward’s introduction scene demonstrates that he doesn’t see Bruce as having these kinds of problems. His Escapism Wish Fulfillment Device TM is clearly a very personal project for him, since he, you know. Is kind of already living in a Bruce-centric fantasy world.

When he’s pitching it to Bruce, however, he states that he doesn’t think someone like Bruce would ever need to escape reality (which could just be ingratiating flattery, but he barely seems aware of what he’s saying at the time because he’s too busy staring with his mouth open at Bruce putting on glasses).

(Side note: an interjection from @heroes-etc

Anyway, moving on.)

Obviously we know he’s wrong, since Bruce escapes his reality every night by dressing up like a bat and scaring people. Normally that’s just subtext (or me being cynical and creating subtext), but Batman Forever introduced a hot psychiatrist who is constantly poking at Batman for being a power fantasy created by a traumatized mind to cope with intense feelings of helplessness in childhood.

The novelization makes it clear that it’s not the illusion of perfection that Edward is attracted to, however. The picture of Bruce in Crime Alley is what kickstarts Edward’s obsession, not because Bruce seemed flawless but because he seemed to be going through similar pain as Edward (whatever Edward’s pain even IS in this continuity). So I think recognizing Bruce’s issues would be less of a dealbreaker and more of a point of connection, were they to get serious.

He saw, there in Bruce Wayne’s face, an intensity that mirrored his own. An anger, a frustration at the hand that fate had dealt him. There were no tears on Bruce’s face. Instead there was a smoldering intelligence that Edward intuitively sensed was on par with his own.

There was something in Bruce’s eyes, something in that gaze. There was Bruce, in a moment of raw emotion, his parents just having been cruelly taken from him. And there was no self-pity. Just cold, hard anger.

[...] Ed still had the newspaper with him when he was walking home from school. Not that he needed it to read; the contents were safely locked away in his skull, thanks to his photographic memory. But he wanted to clip out the articles and pictures about Bruce Wayne. He found the young man fascinating, as if he had discovered a soulmate of sorts.

For Bruce, on the other hand, getting serious presumably just means attempting to include Edward more and more in the found family he builds in the latter half of the 90’s Batman movies. Alfred approving a love interest is not quite as tantamount in this continuity as it is sometimes (Micheal Gough Alfred is pretty laid back), but Bruce is still spending all of his non-Batman, non-socialite time with his butler. So if Edward wants to hang out with Bruce, he has to either get on Alfred’s good side or prepare for a lot of “romantic quality time” where his boyfriend’s dad is glaring at him from the background.

Dick is less important to get on the good side of, since he and Bruce argue all the time in these movies (apparently one of the proposed scripts for Batman & Robin was Bruce kicking Dick out of the house and making him go to college, where Dick would cope with his dad-related anger by bullying his psychology professor Dr. Crane into becoming a supervillain. I personally feel like I deserved to see that Scarecrow origin). So if Dick doesn’t like Bruce’s new boyfriend, it’s just one more thing for them to be catty to each other about.

Alfred’s niece Barbara Wilson on the other hand (who is adorable as a fusion of Barbara Gordon and Julia Pennyworth, do not @ me) would be absolutely vital for Edward to win over, because her opinion could easily either make or break his standing with her uncle. Also Bruce decided to adopt her within five minutes of meeting her, so he’s obviously fond.

19. Where do they go on their first date?

Edward’s fantasy sequence in the novelization makes it obvious enough that he would really, really like to have dinner at Wayne Manor. Hanging out at someone’s house isn’t really a traditional first date, especially if one of you is a billionaire who could have taken you literally anywhere, but clearly none of that matters to Bruce, because that’s exactly the first date he invites Vicki Vale on in Batman (1989).

It’s pretty painfully awkward (“You want to know the truth? I don’t think I’ve ever been in this room before”) until Bruce gives up on the formality and takes her down to eat the rest of their courses with Alfred in the kitchen.

I feel like his first date with Edward could probably go the same way, with a few major differences. One, Edward would have been super enthused about eating in the fancy dining hall, and Bruce would have only suggested finishing their meal in the kitchen because Edward clearly wanted to see As Much Of The Manor As Possible. Two, when Alfred offers to stop embarrassing Bruce and leave them alone for the end of their date, Edward would have insisted he stay and break out the baby albums. You cannot convince me that Alfred is not a scrapbooker. Actually, does what Edward’s doing count as scrapbooking? Maybe they could compare notes.

#riddlebat #batman forever #edward nygma #riddler #bruce wayne #batman #ship meme #i do not actually recommend reading the novelization because it did chase so dirty i still seethe about it sometimes #but it did make edward pretty fucking gay #now the batman & robin novelization i recommend wholeheartedly #because for some reason bruce has a huge crush on mr. freeze #like literally bruce stalked him for a while in his 20's #and his internal narration is constantly monologueing about how handsome victor is #truly george clooney batman is canon gay

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liza011 · 3 years

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The Parcel

The parcel arrived exactly at one o’clock during the day.

Sender unknown, no return address.

It had baffled Mara quite a bit, since she wasn’t expecting anything. She hadn’t ordered online, and family and friends wouldn’t just send things on a whim, without announcing it first.

She had taken it inside and opened it, or at least she had attempted to open it, when a loud screech came from inside the box. There was something alive in it! She couldn’t identify the animal by the noise it had made.

For a split second she hesitated, before continuing to cut. She prayed that whatever was in it, wouldn’t immediately attack her.

She was relieved when she found that it was just a lizard in a tank. This was most likely sent to her by mistake. Maybe it had been meant for a neighbor, and the sender had gotten the apartment number wrong?

She placed the fully equipped tank onto her dining table and plugged in the heat lamp that was attached to it. She took another closer look at the lizard. It looked like a bearded dragon, but as far as she knew, they didn’t make noise. Reptiles in general rarely did, and that screech she’d heard was not something it should have been capable of doing.

With a sigh she grabbed her keys and made her rounds, asking her neighbors if they had been expecting to get a pet lizard, but none of them were.

Back inside her apartment, she contemplated what to do. She wasn’t someone who wanted to take care of a pet, she could barely take care of herself. Just one look at the dirty dishes in the sink told her that. She would probably have to put out a notice and give the lizard to someone who really wanted one. For now however she was stuck with it, and decided to go to the nearest pet store to at least buy some food for it.

On her way out, she took a picture of the lizard and it let out another screech, almost as if to say, “Don’t leave me here alone.” The fact that she had somehow felt the sadness in the sound, made her feel strange.

The guy at the pet store told her that whatever kind of reptile had been sent to her, it wasn’t a bearded dragon. In fact, it wasn’t any kind of lizard he’d ever seen before. It confused her, and made her wary. What if it was venomous?

She took the dried insects home, and fed them to the lizard, wearing protective gloves usually used when working in the garden. To her surprise, the lizard was surprisingly docile, just gently taking the insects from her and swallowing them whole. It kept nudging her hand for more, and when it had enough, it curled up on a stone under the heat lamp.

In the moment she decided to try to take care of it. At least for a while, just to see if she could. If she deemed it too much work after all, she could still give it away to someone who was better suited for the job.

And so, she went about her usual business as days and then a week passed.

Halfway into week two however, things had begun to change. She felt like the lizard had begun to speak to her. The sounds she was hearing were like whispers, but she couldn’t make out any words. She was also sure that she was the only one who could hear them.

One evening, she had caught herself asking it, “What are you telling me? I can hear, but I can’t make out words.”

By the end of the second week, she thought, maybe, just maybe, she was going crazy. She had just come back from work and was inspecting the blank envelope that had been left in her mailbox, as she sat down on the sofa, opening it.

There was a single piece of paper inside. One sentence, and a strange symbol drawn on it.

Show this to the lizard, it read.

This was probably a prank. She wasn’t quite sure why she didn’t ignore the message though.

Shaking her head in disbelief at what she was about to do, she pressed the paper against the glass and said, “Look what I got here. Somebody is trying to prank me, I think.”

The lizard opened one eye taking a lazy look at the symbol.

The paper caught flame, and she shouted in surprise. “What the hell?” The glass was quite warm, but it shouldn’t make paper ignite.

Before she could form another thought, the tank suddenly burst, spraying shards of glass everywhere. She reflexively covered her eyes and scrambled back. “Fuck!”

“About time.” A woman had replaced the lizard and was sitting on her dining table, right where the tank had been just seconds ago. She was dressed in black, skin tight, jeans and a tank top. She seemed about her age. “Sorry about the mess.” The woman pulled a few of the shards that had embedded themselves in her skin and her wounds immediately healed.

Mara stared at her. She’d been lucky to avoid the shrapnel. “That’s it, I’m nuts.” The adrenaline in her blood made her want to run, but she stayed where she was.

The stranger held her hand out to her, with a smile. “Hi, I’m Roslyn. How do you do?”

She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again. Roslyn was still there. She had lowered her hand again however. “I’m Mara. I’m not doing well. I think I’m hallucinating. I’m gonna go for a walk.”

“Don’t you want to clean this up first?” Roslyn gestured at the mess around her. “I’ll help.”

She was already grabbing her keys. “No. You’re coming with me.”

“Excuse me?”

“I need to make sure my neighbor can see you!”

Roslyn shrugged. “Fine, if it makes you feel better.”

Mara’s neighbor opened. He was an older man. “Hello,” he said. “Can I help you?”

“Yes,” she said. “I was wondering if we could borrow a broom. We made a bit of a mess in my apartment.”

“Of course. Please bring it back when you’re done though.”

He came back with one and she stepped aside to let Roslyn take it. He handed it over to her without any problems.

They returned and Mara slumped down on the sofa. “Holy shit! Would you like to explain how the hell this is even possible?”

Roslyn busied herself with sweeping the glass on the floor into a pile. “I could try, but I doubt you’d understand. It involves a lot of particle physics and quantum mechanics.”

“Yeah, no thank you. I’ll just sit here for a bit longer and work through the shock of this being real.”

Roslyn laughed. “Just wait until you hear about how many times I’ve changed owners before that letter arrived.”

“How long were you stuck like this?”

“I wasn’t exactly stuck. I could have changed whenever I wanted, the letter was just the notice from my boss that I should. And on that note,” she walked over to Mara, broom in hand, “I’m done here. I have to report this at the office. You’ll receive a payment for the pet food you bought over the two weeks and for any damages the exploded tank might have caused.”

She didn’t want to admit, even though she was shocked, she wanted to see Roslyn again. “How about you visit me again next week?”

She seemed surprised at the request, but then nodded. “Most people want me back out of their lives as quickly as possible and just forget about the whole thing. But fine, I’ll be there next Sunday, eight in the evening. Does that work for you?”

“It does.” She got up and took the broom from her. “See you around.”

“See ya!” Roslyn headed for the door, but stopped short of pushing the handle down to open it. “I’ve got to ask, are you going to tell anyone about this?”

“Probably, but I’ll leave out the part where my lizard turned into a woman,” she laughed.

“Good, good!” She opened the door, and right before it fell shut behind her, she added, “If anyone asks what happened to the lizard, tell them it’s alright and found a new home.”

And with that, she left Mara standing there, feeling more weird than usual.

#shortstory #short story #short #original

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music-es-vida · 4 years

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SOULMATE AU - LUCAS/DOYOUNG

CHAPTER SEVEN

The rest of the week passed by pretty quickly. The nurse was right about your cast becoming loose, since the swelling in your hand and wrist finally went down- so you made an appointment to go back to see her so they could tighten it. Thankfully your shoulder was starting to hurt less as well.

Every time you saw Doyoung in class, he seemed to act friendlier towards you, since you two were ‘friends’ now. “Are you looking forward to our date?” You joked, but he didn’t realize you were kidding and stared at you like you were crazy or something. “..It’s not a date-” “I was just kidding,” you raise your eyebrows.

“Look, if you wanna be my friend, you need to be able to take a joke, okay?” “You’re so weird.” “I’m weird?” You laughed, when suddenly Ms. Thompson smacked your desk with her ruler to get your attention. Both you and Doyoung jumped.

This was how class went almost everyday now. You kept getting in trouble for talking, but it was kind of funny to you both- after she walked away, you’d joke about how her ruler was gonna snap one day.

Finally the end of the week came around, and Doyoung ended up coming by your house to pick you up. Since he had dialed his number into your phone that day Haechan stole his, you already had it, so you texted him yours, and sent him your address.

You were going to ask to borrow your mom’s car, but Doyoung said he could pick you up (which was probably a good thing, since your mom would’ve said no anyways).

When he arrived, you invited him in because your mom wanted to meet him. “Why does she wanna meet me? We’re just going to a movie..” He texted from his car, not wanting to get out. “Because she wants to meet my new boyfriend,” You joked, sending a heart emoji, and he immediately sent the emoji that was rolling its eyes, back. He eventually decided to come up and meet her though.

“Mom, this is my boyfriend, Doyoung. Doyoung, this is my favourite person in the world- also known as my mother.” You say, introducing them, after he walks in. He was wearing something different from his usual style that he wore to school. He had on a button down, long-sleeved polo with black jeans. It was a good look on him. “Boyfriend?” Your mom asks with a smirk, and Doyoung turns red. He hated when you joked like that. “Yes.. -With a space in between ‘boy’ and ‘friend’,” you clarify, laughing at the expression on Doyoung’s face.

You’d decided your new favourite thing was to embarrass him.

“Nice to meet you, ma’am.” “Ma’am? Oh no, don’t call me that- makes me feel old. You can call me Sandra.” She chuckles.

Their first time meeting each other didn’t go as awkwardly as you’d expected.

As you dashed into your room to get your purse, you heard the two of them having a conversation about something random. You were glad that they seemed to get along.

It was always a good sign whenever your mom liked someone- you always checked with her to see if she liked your friends because she was a pretty good judge of character. She was being friendly now, but you’d ask her what she really thought of Doyoung once you got back.

“I think your mom liked me.” He smiles as you’re on your way out of the apartment complex. “I hope she did.” You say honestly. “Hey, I noticed your dad wasn’t in any of the family pictures you had..” He asks once you’re in the car and driving off towards the movie theater, to your surprise. “That’s because he’s not part of my family.” You reply, and it goes silent.

Doyoung grew up in a big family. All his cousins lived close by and they were all very tight-knit with each other, so he couldn’t even imagine what it’d be like growing up without a father. “He abandoned me as a kid- he left my mom because his soulmark changed to match someone else’s.. Someone who he had a history with, and I guess she was more important to him than us..”

You surprised your own self, telling him all this. He was still silent, not knowing how to respond. It was all pretty shocking. He’d expected you to say that your dad died when you were young or something, not this. This was complicated. What can you say to someone who’s experienced something crazy like this, except that you’re sorry?

‘Sorry’ won’t make anything better.

“I can’t believe i’m telling you this- I never share personal stuff about myself with people I barely know. Aisha doesn’t even know this about me,” you laugh bitterly. “What is it about me that makes you wanna tell me all this? You didn’t have to answer my question..” “..I don’t know, I guess I just trust you,” you shrug, looking over at him. He just continued looking at the road.

“Either that, or it’s because I know you won’t tell anybody because you have no friends,” you smile. He rolls his eyes, but grins too.

The movie was pretty stupid, but you didn’t feel like it was a waste of money because you and Doyoung were laughing and making jokes the whole time. There weren’t many people in the theater, so you two were talking as loud as you wanted to. It was kind of weird being here with somebody other than Lucas, but it was a nice change.

Doyoung wasn’t so bad afterall. You smiled over at him during the movie, just thinking to yourself. “What?” He asked, noticing you staring at him. “Nothing.. You’re pretty handsome, you know that?” You say, and his eyes go wide. He wasn’t used to how blunt you were yet, and you started laughing. He looked away, toward the movie screen, but you could still see the shocked look on his face.

Every time you’d tell Lucas he was handsome, he’d just laugh it off since he was used to it, but with Doyoung you could actually get a reaction out of him and it was hilarious.

Eventually the movie ended and he took you home. He parked and walked you up to your apartment, stopping at the door. “This was fun,” he smiles, looking down at you, and you nod, returning the smile. “Goodnight.” He says, turning to leave, but you stop him. You wanted to mess with him one more time before he left.

“Wait!” “Hmm?” “You didn’t kiss me goodbye- don’t you know that’s how all first date’s end?” The shocked look returned to his face, but was replaced with a knowing smile. He was starting to catch onto your games.

“Y/n, you are delusional.” “That’s actually not the first time somebody’s told me that.” You shrug with a laugh, remembering when Lucas said that to you- the day before soulmarks came in. Doyoung just snickers, shaking his head. He wasn’t surprised.

He actually did something to surprise you, though. He walked back over and placed a quick kiss on the top of your head. “Wh- I was just kidding! You didn’t have to--” “I wanted to.” He says, before heading out. You didn’t see his smile.

He wanted to throw you off this time. You’d been doing it to him all night and he figured it was his turn to be amused. “How’s he gonna say something like that and then just leave? The audacity..” You say to no one, closing your door back, wide-eyed.

You sighed, leaning back onto the door. “What did he mean by that..? ..Here I go, overthinking stuff again,” you say to yourself, knowing he was probably just kidding. But what if he wasn’t..

“What did he mean by what?” Your mom asked, turning a light on in the hallway. You jumped, not noticing she was standing there. “Jeez mom, you just gave me a heart attack.” You said, holding your heart with your good hand. She chuckles, sitting down on the couch, and you walk over and sit next to her.

“So~ what did you think of Doyoung?” “You mean your new boyfriend?” “Mom, I was just joking- don’t call him that.. only I can call him that.” “I’m not joking though, is he replacing Lucas?” “No!” You answered, but it was actually a legitimate question.

Were you just befriending Doyoung so it’d hurt less when you lost Lucas?

Even if you were, it would be pointless, because you’d just end up losing Doyoung too whenever he found his soulmate. “If he even cared enough to find her..”

“Alright, alright. No need to yell- it was just a question.” You mom raises her eyebrows with a slight smirk. “I think he’s nice, but that he’s hiding something.” “What??” “I’m joking, I’m joking. I think he’s a decent guy- I’ve only had one conversation with him, but he seems decent.” “That’s it? Just decent?” “Why, do you want something to be wrong with him?” “No, but..” You trail off, thinking about whether what she said was true or not- about you replacing Lucas with him.

Suddenly you remembered that you still hadn’t texted your dad back yet about him paying for the damages of your crash. You wanted to just say ‘yes’, and let him take care of everything, because money was tight for you and your mom sometimes- since she was self-employed. But you knew you mom wouldn’t allow it at all. You considered bringing it up now, but decided against it since she seemed to be in such a good mood.

Now wasn’t the time.

You also wanted to ask her how she felt after seeing your dad for the first time in so long too, but you figured she’d tell you about it when she was ready, in her own time.

She places a hand on your back. “Why don’t you head on to bed? It’s pretty late.” She says, and you nod. Once you’re in your room, you get a text from Doyoung, saying that he made it back to the dorms. “Okay, but why are you telling me this?” you texted back, and he replied, “I thought you’d wanna know.” You contemplated asking if he really meant what he said about wanting to kiss you, but you decided not to. “He was definitely joking.. I think.” You say out loud to yourself, staring up at the ceiling.

Now wasn’t the time.

You also wanted to ask her how she felt after seeing your dad for the first time in so long too, but you figured she’d tell you about it when she was ready, in her own time.

You both texted back and forth for about an hour about nothing important, before deciding it was time to go to bed. Texting with one thumb was pretty tiring.

You’d mentioned that you had to go back to the hospital to get your cast tightened, and he offered to go with you. You were about to decline and tell him your mom would take you, but you ended up just saying ‘ok’, and then you drifted off to sleep.

Maybe you were trying to replace Lucas with Doyoung..

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