bakerstreet | Morning after

morning after

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ a meme
→ COMMENT WITH YOUR CHARACTER'S NAME, FANDOM, AND PREFERENCE.
→ PICK A CHARACTER YOU WANT TO TAG AND HIT UP RNG (01-10), OR CHOOSE A SCENE OF YOUR OWN.
→ PLAY NICE; NO WANK, FLAMES, OR GENERAL HUMBUGGERY.
( keep in mind that sexual scenarios are the basis of this meme! please enter with caution )

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ the scenarios
① BREAKFAST IN BED; your partner is up and about -- maybe dressed, maybe not -- and in the kitchen. what are they making you? could it be... grilled cheese?
② HIT ME BABY; they're such a peaceful sleeper. a peaceful, sexy sleeper. actually there's too much of that sleeping happening. why don't you wake the up, world's kindest alarm?
③ ESCAPE FROM AZKABED; you wake up to find they're rummaging about for their clothes, about to leave. why the rush, can't you convince them to stay?
④ THE AFTERNOON AFTER; and the evening, maybe even the morning after after... hours have passed but you just can't leave each other! or maybe one of you just won't...
⑤ HANGOVER FROM HELL; there's a tiger in the closet, a baby in the bathroom, and a total stranger curled up beside you. who is this person beside you, smelling of tequila and regret? do they know any more about what, or who, went down than you do?
⑥ WET AND WILD; don't feel too lonely waking up by yourself -- the shower's on and the sound of water falling is mighty inviting. why don't you get cleaned up -- or down and dirty all over again?
⑦ I'LL SLEEP WHEN I DIE; sleep? what is this sleep thing you speak of? dawn's breaking and neither of you have gotten a wink, or want one. who's ready for round xxx?
⑧ A BITTER PILL; turns out the reason you scored wasn't your sparkling wit and magnetic confidence. your partner had an ulterior motive -- they already knew it and you're about to. recon? revenge? rebound? tag and find out, if you can handle the truth!
⑨ THIS ISN'T MINE; that sleepy person in your living room had a great night -- with your roommate. well, might as well get to know each other while you're both there, right? ... right?
⑩ WILD CARD; roll more than once and combine scenarios, choose your favorite, or make up your own!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Something about a visit to the Astral Plane is so engaging mentally, it's almost easy to forget what happens physically. How taxing it can be, for example, to withstand the experience Betsy has curated for Jason in their shared mindscape. An evening's worth of time spent in each other's minds, unhindered by the borders of physical reality and space, leaves Jason returning to the waking world in a cold sweat. Less like the way one escapes from a nightmare, more like the way one is dragged away a dream too blissful, too sweet, to let go of.

But it's not like it would ever be the last reverie between them, not when the real and physical Betsy was a dream in her own right-- at least in Jason's opinion. He's pretty sure she's been the nightmare of many others: a quality that only draws him in further with no means of escape. There's nothing for him to flee from, anyway, but to flee towards. Like the feeling of Betsy's arms when they embrace under the showerhead. It's on the mist setting, for now, softly peppering Jason's skin with sensations so indicative of the real. The tangible. Just as the very real and very tangible Betsy soon finds her forehead pressed against Jason's, him tilting his head to do so.

His expression isn't as severe as usual, contemplative instead. Almost wistful. ]

This is quite the pretty picture, Betsy.

How can I be sure this isn't another figment of your imagination?

[ In some ways acts on the Astral Plane seem even more intimate to Betsy than the physical ones. Perhaps it's just the nature of how much trust is required between two people to engage so openly with one another. While she doesn't search for the sordid or intimate details of his traumas, she can always tell they're there on the sidelines of his mind. They brew in the background like an overcast sky threatening to interrupt their mental dalliance at any moment. Yet his storms are never alone, connecting minds like one does to meet in the mindscape means that he's privy to a glimpse of her own mental chaos. Storm clouds that hang on the edges of the scenes she created for them to fuck around in.

Literally.

She pulls bits and pieces from his memory, only the most pleasant things. Memories of locations he's found a moment's happiness in or a location he may have found particularly peaceful. A beautiful place with a more golden hue to it's memory. From there she builds a perfect space for them to share. A hideaway to escape to.

But she can't fully erase the shadows that creep in each of their minds and even if she could, she wouldn't want to. The shadows in his mind are part of what draws her to him: a kindred spirit. Someone who knows the taste of death as she does. He's someone that understands what it means to fear being too happy, to fear letting someone in, because it may just all come crashing down. But for a short time she lets them escape into their minds.

Now that they've left and they're together in the real world with water pounding down to prick her skin with a real sensation she's not sure what to think of it all. If it'd been a mistake to invite him in like that, or if she should have simply left things between them as a physical thing. As the steam settles in around them and she leans up against him she's caught up in the desire to run and the desire to stay.

There's always a duality in everything she does, isn't there? ]

I suppose that's always the problem with me isn't it? You never can be certain what's real.

[ As long as the turbulent weather occupies the periphery of their shared mindscape, Jason has no complaints. It's almost fascinating watching the storm clouds brew in concert, twin tempests so indicative of their respective trials and tribulations. In the distance he can glean the totality of his rage, his discontent, over the hand he'd been dealt. The burden he's had to bear, largely alone, in pursuing his war on crime. He's had his attempts of trying it Bruce's way, only to fail - and fail miserably - by discerning where the logic stops. Where the value of life loses meaning if he has to spare someone who values death more. The Cobblepots, Sionises, and Jokers of the world... they're living proof life isn't inherently sacred.

Betsy herself doesn't seem to have qualms with that notion. How could she? Maybe that's why Jason's opened up as much as he has, letting her dissect his mind for any semblance of calm - of peace - he's managed to grasp in his life. From walking down a street in Gotham on a bright sunny day, to the very first moment he put on the Robin suit, brimming with hope and wonder-- she can feel what he felt, and thus mourn what he couldn't regain. What sometimes, in nights of his loneliest loneliness, he wishes he still had.

But in the present moment, mourning's the furthest thing from his mind. So is regret. It's difficult to be trapped in his own head when so much beckons him to maintain his presence of mind. Betsy's here, she's real, and she's leaning against him. Corporeal, tangible... not a memory, nor a dream. Real. ]

Maybe certainty's overrated.

You're real enough to me, and that's what matters.

[ If she's gonna be this close, his hands are gonna just naturally gravitate to her hips, as if seeking stability. It's different from the way he attempts to ground himself in their telepathic trysts, tethered by the strength of his thoughts. There's something almost nerve-wracking being in her physical presence, Jason all too aware of his own quickening pulse. To be this excited for her, despite what they've been to each other... is this what it means to catch feels? He can't imagine she needs her powers to piece that together. ]

Besides, there's a certain value to not knowing. Just makes you a really good mystery.

The kind I don't mind racking my brain over.

Morning after

betsy braddock 🦋 marvel 616

6 🚿

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