#and it is the easiest to stop and put down before you see/experience something traumatizing if you find you’re not ready

[bilaudad]

of course they compare freedom and intellectual exploration to being hit - these puritanical mindsets are shame- and fear-based and come from this very anti-humanist belief that people would generally just be monsters if left to our own devices and not strictly controlled.

(also “You know who else says the impact and severity of a thing depends on its context? People who defend hitting their children!” draws the same kind of false parallel and has the same ridiculous absence of logic as “You know who else was a vegetarian? Hitler!”)

There is genuinely no such thing as an inappropriate book for a child.

[a-n-conrad]

Showers (Karl Heisenberg x Reader)

[Summary: You love Karl Heisenberg completely. And because of that, you are more than willing to put up with his quirks and flaws. However, you make sure to try everything in your bag of tricks to help him take care of himself a bit better and deal with his trauma. That means you have to come up with a plan to help distract him while he showers so that perhaps he can enjoy it a bit more. (They/Them pronouns)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), shower sex, oral sex (male receiving), swearing, depressed/traumatized Heisenberg, gender-neutral reader

Request: From my request survey (https://forms.gle/D9rsJtkERoBPaKvv8)]

Karl Heisenberg wasn’t exactly the easiest person to be in love with. You both knew it. He got angry easily. He would lock himself in his workshop for hours at a time. He was overly protective often, and wouldn’t let you wander without him there to protect you. He forgot to pick up supplies much more frequently than you’d like. And he was terrible at taking care of himself. He didn’t make it easy for you to care for him, but that never stopped you.

Part of it was that you were truly, unbelievably in love with him. There was no way that was changing over some minor annoyances. But part of it was that you were fucking stubborn. Karl had a habit of pushing people away. You didn’t know if he even knew it, but he seemed to try and push away anyone that got too close. You didn’t know what it was or why he did it, but you knew it wasn’t good for either of you. So you were far too stubborn to let him push you away like that.

So you got into the habit of helping him with all of these issues. You knew exactly how to help him calm down when he was upset. You’d find ways and excuses to drag him out of the workshop to take a break. You made sure to reassure him that you were safe whenever you went out. And you always made sure to gently remind him when you needed supplies. But the biggest thing that you made sure to do was to help him remember to take care of himself.

You made meals for him often and would bring them down to his workshop so that he didn’t have an excuse to not eat. You’d bring him water and other drinks, occasionally bringing him a chamomile tea or something of the sort when he had been avoiding sleep. You’d tend to any cuts on his hands, and you’d give his hands massages after he’s been working for hours, to help him avoid getting cramps. Your biggest challenge, however, was to get him to shower.

Heisenberg hated showers. It wasn’t the idea of hygiene that was the issue. It was a mix of a lot of other things. He was tired most of the time when he came back to the living area, far too tired to convince himself to go shower. His body ached, and the water pressure in his factory was, well, aggressive. And while he would never admit it, Karl was incredibly self-conscious. He hated having to look at himself while he washed. Part of it was that he didn’t like the way he looked, but most of it was the scars. A lot of those scars he didn’t quite remember getting. But he knew where they were from. And the thoughts of the experiments that Miranda did on him haunted him every time he had to look at his scars.

So you had to find ways to make showering a little less painful for him. You just weren’t really sure how to do that. There were a few little tricks that you had tried. You had tried getting him soaps in smells that he loved and that made him feel confident. You tried rewarding him for taking care of himself with extra cuddles. You had even tried getting him to shower with most of the lights off so he wouldn’t have to see the scars. None of that really seemed to work. So you were on to your last resort. Distraction.

- - - - -

“I’m back,” Karl sighed as he dragged himself through the door to the living quarter. He had just run for supplies after a long day of working on his experiments. You could tell that he was exhausted. And you also knew, from the layer of sweat, grease, and dirt clinging to his body, that there was no way that he was going to feel better until he took a warm shower and washed himself off.

“I’m glad you made it safely,” You responded, knowing you needed to ease him into the idea of a shower, “How was the supply run? Anything eventful happen?”

“Not really,” He sighed, setting the bags down on the table in the kitchen, starting to unpack the food and things that he had bought, “The Duke made me go to the middle of the village. My guess is that he was hoping for some drama from the villagers acting weird around me, but most of them just steered clear. I have no issues with them right now as long as they don’t get in my way, so there wasn’t anything to entertain The Duke.”

“I wish he wouldn’t use you for entertainment like that,” You sighed in response, helping him put everything away, “You have enough to deal with. You shouldn’t have to deal with him treating you like a circus animal.”

“Yeah, well, I’m used to it. It’s better than being a lab rat,” He responded, the bitterness in his voice being clear. All you could really do to respond was to nod, a slight frown on your face as you thought about his childhood once again. It always made you angry to think about, but it wasn’t helpful for anyone for you to get upset.

The two of you continued to unpack the supplies in warm silence. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. It rarely was when the two of you were together. It was just that neither of you had anything to say. You were just enjoying each other’s company, enjoying being near each other, without having to fill the air with mindless small talk. It was only after you had put everything away that you finally broke the silence.

“Why don’t we hop in the shower, and then we can relax a bit,” You suggested gently, “You’ve had a long week. We should take some time to relax.”

He looked a bit uncomfortable and unsure at the suggestion, but didn’t outright object. He just winced. He understood that he needed a shower, but the look on his face told you that it might take a bit more convincing.

“I’ll join you if you want,” You said, winking at him, “I could use a shower too, so perhaps we could make things a bit more fun.”

His eyes widened a bit at that, and you saw his thoughts get a bit conflicted. He still wasn’t excited about the idea of having to go shower, but he was never one to turn down sex. He was entirely enamored with you, he thought you were the most attractive person he had ever seen. You watched the debate happen behind his eyes, trying to decide if he hated showering more than he loved seeing you nude. Eventually the part of him that just wanted to touch you all the time won out, and you saw the debate end. And he nodded in agreement to your plan.

- - - - -

You got the showering running while he got himself undressed. You had figured out the temperature of water that both of you liked a while ago, so you managed to get it right much quicker than Karl could. You couldn’t do much to help with the insane water pressure, but getting it to a decent temperature made it a much nicer experience.

Karl hesitated at the edge of the water flow when you were both ready. Something about actually stepping into the shower was one of the hardest steps for him. Because of that, you made a point to help him with that. You grabbed his hand and guided him into the shower with you, pulling him a bit closer to you. You wrapped your arms around his torso, pulling him in for a quick kiss to distract him while he started to get used to the feeling of the water running down his body.

It took a few moments for him to adjust, but eventually you felt his muscles relax under your fingers as you ran your hands across his body. You took that as your cue to start getting him cleaned up. You started with his hair, which got greasy pretty quickly. You rubbed the shampoo into his hair, massaging his scalp in the process. He seemed to relax even more, enjoying the feeling of you playing with his hair. The feeling seemed to be doing well enough to distract him.

You normally try to get in and out as quickly as you can when it comes to helping Karl shower, and usually that means forgoing things like conditioner. But this time, you had a feeling that you had the time. So as you finished with the shampoo and slowly washed it out of your hair, never stopping your massages in the process, you grabbed your conditioner from the shelf. Karl didn’t use your soap very often, but sometimes when he was feeling especially sad, he liked to. It made it so that even if you weren’t right next to him, he could smell you.

You massaged the conditioner in, taking extra care to note exactly what motions made him relax extra. You took the opportunity to detangle a few of the knots in his hair as well. Using your fingers to gently pull the knots apart. Before long, his hair was soft and detangled, and he had been fairly relaxed the whole time. He hadn’t said anything, still fairly on edge, but he was much less tense than usual.

It was once you had moved on to the body wash that you could feel the tension returning to his body, despite your effort to massage his tight muscles. His whole body tensed each time your fingers ran across a scar. You watched every muscle in his back turn hard as your hand ran across a large scar on his hip. You needed to find a way to help him relax, before the calm mood was ruined completely.

You ran your hands across his chest, turning him to face you and taking a break from washing him off. He looked at you, a bit confused as you did. You just smiled at him, a smile that you knew made his heart melt a bit. The kisses you left softly on his neck did wonders on distracting him as well. He seemed tough, rigid like the metal he worked with, but when you were soft with him, he melted in an instant. So you just had to be soft.

You continued your care, leaving soft, small kisses across his collar bone. His hands started to wander, grabbing at your body as his own started to relax a bit. You finally felt his shoulders relax as one of your hands began to wander as well, sliding from his chest to just above his belt line. One of his hands raised to your face, pulling you by the chin into a kiss. It wasn’t rough like his usually are, but it was passionate in the soft and loving way.

As he pulled you closer, careful not to make you slip on the wet flooring, you felt something poke your leg, his erection catching your attention clearly. You had implied something a bit more intimate to bait him into the shower, so perhaps it was time for you to make good on that promise.

He raised his eyebrows as you slowly lowered yourself to your knees, sliding your hands down his chest as you did. You made sure to add a few kisses to his chest and stomach on the way down as well, your lips catching a slight taste of soap, but it wasn’t anything you couldn’t ignore. You looked up at him through your eyelashes, a small smirk finding its way onto your face as you started to slide your hands a bit lower, following the path of his hips to where his legs meet.

He was watching you intently, his mind far removed from the normal complaints of a shower. The only thing he was thinking about right now was you. He watched carefully as your hands moved to his cock, handling him gently at first. You gave him a few light pumps, getting a feel of just how aroused he was. The small drops of precum that appeared almost instantly were a pretty clear sign of just how much he wanted you. And you weren’t about to deny him what he wanted.

You started with a broad lick across the length of his cock, swirling your tongue around the head when you reached the tip. He groaned loudly, his hands finding their way to the back of your head in an instant. You took his tip into your mouth, still swirling your tongue around him. You could feel his impatience as his fingers started to dig into the back of your head as he tried to resist the urge to push your head down further.

Teasing was never something that he handled well, getting impatient quickly. He liked to take control, taking over completely if you teased him too much. Normally, you enjoyed it, but this was meant to distract him, meant to give him a chance to relax. So you yielded to his need, taking him a bit deeper into your mouth, making sure to maintain suction as you started to bob your head up and down.

“Fuck, (Y/n),” He groaned, pushing your head down just a bit more. You couldn’t help but savor the look of him, practically melting in your hands. His eyes were almost rolling back in his head as you took him all the way into your mouth, fighting your gag reflex as he reached your throat.

You moaned in response, the vibration making him groan again. The taste of his precum in the back of your throat was bitter and acidic, a sharp contrast to the clean smell of the soap clinging to his body. However, all you were truly thinking about at that moment was making him feel as good as you possibly could. You wanted to make him come undone completely in your mouth. And you were going to do just that.

You had to take a moment to breathe after a while, though, pulling him out of your mouth completely to do so. You looked divine, though. That was all Karl could think of as he watched you. The line of saliva trailing from your mouth to the tip of his cock, the look of your chest raising and falling harshly as you tried to catch your breath, the water clinging to your skin, all of it was perfect. You were perfect.

He almost lost it completely when you took him into your mouth again, the feeling of your tongue and the inside of your mouth wrapping around him was almost too much. You could feel it in the way his dick twitched in your mouth, and you hummed a bit to add a bit of extra sensation. He was getting close, so you would encourage him, edge him closer until he broke his resolve.

The hand on the back of your head was helping you along, setting a pace that he was enjoying as he pushed your head down the length of his cock. You made sure to keep the suction, and to continue to curl your tongue around him. He was cursing under his breath as you did, clearly losing his control. The shaking in his legs was another clear sign that he was reaching his finish. You were just enjoying turning him into putty in your hands. The sounds he made were music to your ears.

“(Y/n), I’m gonna- fuck,” He groaned out, giving you a bit of warning. You hummed in response, a sign that he had permission to spill himself into your mouth. And he did just that, the hot, sticky substance shooting straight into your throat and he held your head in place, his eyes screwed tightly shut.

Saliva and cum dripped out of the corners of your mouth as you pulled your head back, letting him fall from your mouth. The line your saliva formed, connecting your mouth to his cock was clear. It only broke when you closed your mouth again, swallowing deeply to clear your mouth out, but never breaking eye contact with Karl.

His pupils were still blown wide as he watched you catch your breath. He never took his eyes off of you. But his body was relaxed, the tension in his muscles had entirely dissolved, and instead of the normal far-off look in his eyes that he usually had when he was trying to stay calm, they were entirely focused on you. Your plan seemed to have worked.

“We should do this more often,” You said, an amused grin clear on your face.

“I agree,” He replied.

(A/N: Thanks so much for reading! I hope your guys enjoyed it. Don't forget, tips are welcome at Venmo: Al3x13l if you'd like to support me with my writing.)

[xskyll]

The BNHA x Chobits AU that no one, not even Mineta, asked for.

The ramblings of my mind under the cut. Warning, it’s loooong.

Okay, so bear in mind that I only watched four episodes of Chobits and it was probably about 14 years ago, and also I didn’t really like it, lol

-Todoroki finds Midoriya laying on some bags of trash next to a dumpster.

-First he’s like “oh no, I need an adult,” because for all his “training,” dad never actually told him what to do when he found a dead body, (this is the summer before he starts U.A., so he’s still living at home). Endeavor is away for a week, and Fuyumi doesn’t count to him (sort of an Aristocats, “she’s not [an adult,] she’s just a sister!” thing). While he’s trying to remember that the police exist, he notices this dead body has very strange ear-like things. He comes closer to investigate. There are lots of weird body types in the world, because of quirks, but these things look metal, which isn’t unheard of, but something about these ears just strike him as unnatural.

- Good news, it seems like a robot, not a dead body. The ears open easily, and there are buttons inside. A power button (that’s right CHOBITS!! It’s in the ear! My love story isn’t going to start with molestation), some USB ports, an aux port, a slot for a microchip or SIM card or whatever, some sort of safety switch (he flips that on)…what really convinces him this is totally a robot are the blutooth and volume buttons (that’s right, Midoriya in this au can charge phones AND he’s a speaker, although the volume buttons’ primary function is to control the volume of his voice).

- He has no good reason for taking this thing home. It weights a ton, it’s awkwardly naked, except for some bandages wrapped around it, which do nothing to hide how anatomically correct this robot is, and he already has a phone charger, so he really has no use for it. 

- He feels weird about it though. While he was checking out the ears, he touched its face and the skin was soft and warm. He checked for a pulse, just out of curiosity, and found one. It looks like a person, aside from the ears, and it feels like a person. He feels bad leaving it in the trash. So he takes it home.

- Cue comedy routine where he gets this thing, not just in the house, but to his room without Fuyumi noticing.

- Once in his room, he hits the power switch. Nothing happens. He holds the power switch. Bingo. Robo-boy powers to life, bright, adorably large green eyes open. He’s holding it in his arms, and it’s still all tied up. It looks up at him and says hello.

- He drops it.

- He apologizes as he picks it back up, tugging at the wrappings to try to get its arms free. He realizes he needs to get pants, or at least boxers, for it, because it’s awake now and very much naked.

- For the very first time, he realizes that this adorable, thin-yet-lean-muscled, between 14-16 looking robo-boy might have been someone’s weird sex doll. They probably threw it away because they found a real person to date and they didn’t want them to know about their underage sex robot. This also sort of explains the pulse; the mystery pervert person probably programmed a fake pulse and did something to make his skin warm, to make him feel more real. Gross.

- He’s broken from these thoughts when the robot speaks. It says, “Please insert memory bank files or turn on base memory.” Todoroki is already freaking out, because this thing wants its memories, and he doesn’t have them. He opens the ear again and investigates. Next to the empty slot, there’s a small button labeled BM. Base memory? Sure, why not. He pushes it.

- The robot goes blank faced for a few seconds. When he comes to, he looks at Todoroki, then the room, then down at himself. He flexes his arms, trying to break the bands around him, but stops, saying, “Safety mode is on.”

- Todoroki finishes helping unwrap him, awkwardly doing so while pointedly looking away, once he gets to his lower half. Once he’s free, he goes and gets a pair of boxers and throws them in his direction. “Can you put them on?” He’s curious if the robot can do something like that unaided, and also he doesn’t want to cloth it himself, because even though this is a robot, it looks like a very cute boy his age. And it has a pulse. He can’t stop thinking about that.

- The robot puts on the boxers, after inspecting them for a second. He honestly does struggle to figure it out for a moment, cause he has zero common sense, but he does figure it out. It probably takes him about a minute. Once they’re on, he stands and starts inspecting the room.

- “Do you have a name?” seems like a dumb question, but he asks anyway and the robot answers, “I’m Project Midoriya.”

- Background info time. Midoriya is not fully a robot. He was kidnapped just seven months ago, coming home from school. It was the day of the sludge villain attack, but he got nabbed before they could cross paths. AFO wanted a quirkless person to experiment on. He did his research and found Midoriya Izuku, a quirkless boy with no friends and little family, who wouldn’t be missed very much. He’s confident enough that he won’t get caught that he titles his new project by its name: Midoriya. Midoriya’s memories are still in his mind, but they’re suppressed. AFO found it easier to backup his memories to a chip, so he could remove them as needed. When they were installed, Midoriya responded best to his own name anyway, so calling him that was also the easiest thing. Without his memories, AFO found him a bit annoying, because he had no social skills or common sense. He needed to be taught, which he didn’t have the patience for, so usually he just left the memories in. He was a timid boy anyway and easy to intimidate, especially if he threaten to hurt his mom.

- The cops figure his disappearance was maybe a runaway situation, but given his track record and the profile on him they’d compiled from listening to his mom, classmates, and teachers, they figure it’s more likely a kidnapping or murder. Fun fact though, he got kidnapped the day Bakugou told him to kill himself. Obviously no body is found, but he knows people go to forests to hang themselves, or put weights in their pockets and drown themselves. Those bodies can take years to find. So while all of this is happening, Bakugou is out there just every day, “what have I done, what have I done, what have I done?” When they finally see each other again, Bakugou freaks out and Midoriya’s suppressed memories are triggered. Bakugou demands answers, Todoroki is confused and defensive, and Midoriya is just, “System overload. Shutting down,” and then face plants to the floor.

- Anyway, back to Shouto. He asks Midoriya if he remembers anything. Midoriya has exactly one memory (or at least, one easily accessible memory), and it’s this: “A man. He looked like this.” He put his hand over his face. “He said, ‘Sensei put so much work into you. Why are you so useless (Deku)?’”

- More bg info, AFO gave Midoriya to Shigaraki, telling him to try to make him useful, and Shigaraki DID try for a couple of months, but he was over the whole situation after basically one day. With his memories, Midoriya was scared and traumatized, had morals, cried a bunch and sometimes tried to escape, and was just UGH. He could mute his voice, but even that didn’t help, cause this kid was just sooo annoying. Without his memories he was awkward and boring and still annoying. Eventually he just yeeted him into a trash heap, but took his memory chip, since it technically contains LoV information.

- Midoriya considers his only memory and thinks being called Deku feels sort of normal, so he says as much. “Deku might also be my name. You can call me that, if you want.” Todoroki says he’ll stick with Midoriya, because Deku isn’t a nice name for his new robot friend.

- So the first section of the story after this is fairly light-hearted. Todoroki has to keep Midoriya a secret from Endeavor and Fuyumi (I feel like she does find out eventually, but agrees to help hide him, as she sees it’s good for her little bro to finally have this (maybe?) living thing/person to talk to and take care of.) Speaking of care, Midoriya is very easy to care for. He can eat, drink, and sleep, but doesn’t need to. He has some sort of self-charging system. Most of his “care” involves teaching him social skills (which oof, blind leading the blind, but they say teaching is the best way to learn, so this is actually good for Shouto too). Embarrassing stuff happens. Fluffy stuff happens. It’s a good time.

- Shouto spends the summer with Midoriya this way. Most of their interactions are fluffy and light, but not all. The first time he comes back to his room after training with his dad, he learns two things: Midoriya has first aid knowledge programmed into him and he’s capable of crying. As the trainings continue, Midoriya eventually reveals that he has over a hundred fighting styles programmed into him and knows over 70 ways to kill a person, but he can’t access any of that information while his safety is on. Todoroki is just like, “Uuuuuh, that’s really good to know…but we’re gonna keep the safety on for now, okay? I hate my dad but also please don’t murder him. He’s famous so we wouldn’t get away with it. Also murder is bad, don’t kill people.”

- Midoriya wants to know if all heroes are like Endeavor and Shouto is like, noooo and shows him the debut video of his personal favorite hero: All Might. Watching this video is the first time Midoriya has a “System overloading. Shutting down” moment. Shouto has an absolute panic attack, because if Midoriya reboots and his memories are wiped, then he’ll have lost the best friend he ever had. But Midoriya restarts and he’s fine. He explains that sometimes he shuts down, to prevent a system failure, which would damage his…idk, hard drive or whatever. He quietly admits that the All Might video is very familiar, and he thinks maybe it used to be important to him. Shouto questions him about his memories and Midoriya theorizes that perhaps he has them backed up, but he isn’t sure how to access them. 

- This is exciting for Shouto, because he thinks maybe if Midoriya experiences more “triggers,” like the video, he might regain his memories and be able to shed some light on the general mystery of where he came from/who made him/what his purpose is. Whenever Endeavor is away, he tries to sneak Midoriya out, so he can see the real world. He isn’t too concerned about his ears, because in a world of quirks, there are plenty of odd looking people around. So far he’s been wearing Todoroki’s clothes, which a little too big on him, so they go shopping and get him clothes. None of their outings seem to trigger anything, except one time when they pass a park where Midoriya and Bakugou used to play as kids. Midoriya grows quiet and seems far away for a moment, but he doesn’t overload and shakes off the familiar feeling.

- Whenever they see All Might stuff he’s just !!!!!!! He can’t remember why he likes All Might, but he remembers how he feels about him. The more All Might stuff he sees, the more his old feelings return. One day they pass a large All Might poster and Midoriya says, “I think maybe I wanted to be like him, once.”

- Eventually Todoroki starts school. He feels bad about leaving him, but Midoriya is content to stay in his room and occupy himself until Todoroki comes home. He’s part computer, so he’s a total boss at helping with math homework. He likes doing homework with Todoroki in general, because he likes learning. This is great for Todoroki’s grades because again, the teaching thing helps everything stick better for him. 

- The attack on USJ happens and Todoroki sees Shigaraki, who has a hand on his face, and he’s like, “Shit, shit, shit, this is the guy who threw away Midoriya,” and he has NO idea what to do with that information. Midoriya belonging to the LoV does explain the “70+ ways to kill” programming though. He tells Midoriya what happened and Midoriya is kind of whatever about it. He says, “Maybe I belonged to villains, but I belong to you, now.” And Shouto is like, “No, no, no, no. You do not. You belong to yourself” and Midoriya is just ????

- I think for the Sports Festival, Midoriya convinces him to use his fire. It’s sort of like, “It’s your power, even though its origin is Endeavor. Just like how everything I can do is my power, even though I was programmed by villains. Being made by villains doesn’t make me a villain. Using the resources they gave me doesn’t make me a villain. Being Endeavor’s son doesn’t make you Endeavor, and using your fire doesn’t either.” Todoroki turns off Midoriya’s safety, confident he has nothing to fear.

- Midoriya watches the Sports Festival on tv (using his blutooth, he can actually just hear the volume in his head, so he can watch silently). He sees Bakugou. Seeing him on screen doesn’t have a huge impact on him, but he does feel something. Fear, unease, admiration, and affection. He’s confused and uncomfortable, and ends up looking away from the screen whenever he’s shown for too long.

- Shouto actually starts making friends at school. Being with Midoriya has taught him a lot about being kind and the joy having other people in your life can bring. Still, he doesn’t trust anyone enough to tell them about Midoriya. He’s terrified of losing him.

- For the Hosu incident, Midoriya is home alone, probably doing something on Shouto’s laptop. He sees the breaking news and is just, “Welp, that’s where Shouto, the official best person in the world, is, so guess I’m going to Hosu to make sure he’s safe.” He leaves the house alone, for the first time ever, and just runs to Hosu. Idk how far away Hosu is from the Todoroki residence, but Midoriya doesn’t fatigue and he’s also outrageously fast, so it’s fine. Also he can see in the dark, but only if he activates his night vision, which makes his eyes glow. Not good for sneaking, but very pretty and cool. I’m not sure how he finds Shouto, or how Shouto found Iida, but I imagine Stain is like, seconds from skewering him and then Midoriya comes out of nowhere and collides with Stain (which is a big deal, cause remember, Midoriya is filled with metal parts and is super heavy). They fight together and at some point Stain cuts Midoriya and he bleeds, which for Shouto is like !?!??! And then he licks his blood and the paralysis works and Shouto is just !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

- Later, after the life threatening stuff is over, Todoroki has some seriously thoughts about this, because what if Midoriya is human? Or part human? That would be a huge development, and also kind of relief for him, because he sort of feels like he’s been falling in love, but he’s been desperately stomping down on those feelings, because he knows falling in love with a robot probably isn’t healthy. But falling in love with a half robot? I mean, Iida could be called part robot, with his legs, if you want to get technical about it. And Todoroki does want to get technical about it, thank you very much. If Iida is dateable, then so is Midoriya.

- Back to Hosu. They beat Stain and, after securing him, Todoroki tells Midoriya to go home, before his dad arrives. Once he leaves, he begs Iida not to tell anyone he saw him and promises to explain later. For ease of narrative, Native was unconscious the entire fight.

- Endeavor shows up, as does the Nomu. It takes Shouto but Stain rescues him. At the hospital, Todoroki explains the Midoriya situation to Iida, revealing that this incident was the first time he realized Midoriya had blood in him. Iida agrees to keep the secret, but urges Todoroki to tell someone. Maybe Aizawa. He agrees to consider, but he doesn’t want Midoriya to get taken away and like, locked up to be studied or something. He and Iida become better friends, bonding over almost dying together and sharing the secret of Midoriya. 

- Midterms! Shouto scores higher because he has an awesome robot tutor. He doesn’t actually care, but good for him regardless.

- Summer field trip time. Midoriya can’t come, obviously. I’m thinking during this time, he decides to sneak out of the house and explore on his own. He feels guilty, because Shouto would worry if he knew, but he just feels this draw. He feels like maybe his old memories were important, and he’s becoming curious. He keeps thinking about the boy from the Sports Festival and about All Might. He ends up in his old neighborhood. He sees his middle school and he doesn’t remember anything, but seeing the building makes him feel lonely and sort of bad about himself. It reminds him of Shigaraki calling him Deku, and the familiar feeling that gave him. He leaves and finds himself on his old street. He isn’t close at all to his old home - he can barely see the apartment building - but he can still see it. He almost shuts down, but turns away quickly and starts back the way he came. He doesn’t remember anything, but seeing that building fills him with overwhelming emotions. The strongest one reminds him of his feelings for Shouto, but it’s different. He can’t place it, but he knows he’d die to protect Shouto, and he feels like maybe he once knew someone in that building that he would also die to protect. Once he gets home, he realizes he’s crying. He decides to sleep and he dreams of green eyes and a smile that looks like home.

- Shouto is injured during the villain attack and goes to the hospital. Once he’s released, he agrees with Kirishima that they’ll go rescue Bakugou. That whole thing pretty much goes at it did in canon, except All Might never found a successor, so he’s more powerful. He defeats AFO and does not have to retire, though he’s feeling an overwhelming pressure to find a successor now, because he knows he’s hanging on by a thread.

- Dorms!! Shouto is bringing his boy with him. He figures he can hide him just as easily there as he can at home. Getting him in is a little tricky, but he manages. From there, it’s smooth sailing.

- Except not really, because living with 18-19 other people (19 if Hitoshi is in the class, which, maybe) is way different than living with 2. Midoriya is discovered in like, a week and everyone is freaking out, most of all Bakugou, who basically breaks down. He tries to hit Midoriya and screams at him, about thinking he was dead and going to his funeral and how it was his fault and having to face his mom and did Midoriya even think about his mom??? As previously mentioned, Midoriya just shuts down and face plants to the ground.

- Shouto finally learns Midoriya’s full name. Midoriya Izuku. A+ name. Very cute. He plans to use it immediately.

- Bakugou’s insight changes the situation completely. Now they know Izuku was once 100% human and something awful happened to him. They end up bringing him to Aizawa and explaining the situation and everything they know. Todoroki gets scolded, cause Izuku could have been dangerous and he should have known better, but he doesn’t even pretend to have regrets. Endeavor would have made him throw Izuku back into the trash where he found him. His best friend isn’t trash.

- Now the name of the game is helping Izuku restore his memories. Bakugou is a huge help, but patience is required, to keep Izuku from overloading. He remembers bits and pieces at a time, all centered around Bakugou. Aizawa agrees to let him attend classes, so they can keep an eye on him. He’s also hoping a school setting might trigger more memories. He meets All Might and he doesn’t even get to announce his system malfunction before he’s out. He sees him, starts smoking at the mouth and hits the floor. All Might is very alarmed.

- Tsukauchi is made aware of the situation. He wants to keep things under wraps though. If the LoV is aware Midoriya is out and about, they may target him. If they can restore his memories though, they may gain insight into the group’s plans. That being said, he thinks it’s only right that they tell Inko. They tell her they have information on her son and make her sign a contract, agreeing not to release any information. Once she agrees, they brief her on what they know and, at the end, bring in Izuku.

- Izuku has been talking with Bakugou about his mom, to prepare for this (he usually wants Shouto with him for these conversations, and Shouto and Bakugou sort on inadvertently become friends). He can’t remember her at all, but he remembers the face in his dream. He knows it’s her. While talking, he’s shut down a few times (which drives Bakugou up the wall, and also scares him a little, cause he kind of looks dead when it happens), but he thinks he might be ready to see her now. He’s brought in and he does not shut down, not fully, but he comes close. He definitely glitches a little, maybe doing a quick reboot, quick enough that he doesn’t even fall, and his voice comes out cracked and metallic when he speaks, and there are sparks in his mouth, but he manages, “Mom?” They both cry and she holds him while he tells her, voice wavering between sounding normal and sounding robotic, that he doesn’t remember her, but he loves her, he knows he loves her so so much and he knows he’s missed her, even though he didn’t know who she was. It’s very emotional, and extremely hard for both of them when they finally have to separate, because Izuku can’t go home with her. She’s allowed to visit though, and each visit helps him restore little pieces of his memory. Between her and Bakugou, he starts making enough progress that he stops shutting down when he gains a new memory, and he starts remembering his old hopes and dreams. He doesn’t remember what AFO did to him, but he remembers enough of his past to feel self-conscious now, about his body. He breaks down one day and Shouto holds him while he grapples with his identity, his humanity, and his future. 

- I’m picturing a scene where he’s crying and Shouto takes his face in his hands and explains all the beautiful things about him that make him human, and he finishes up with something corny like, “I know you, Izuku. You’re human. You have to be human, because I’m in love with you.” And then they KISS and it is ROMANTIC!

- He decides he still wants to be a hero and he becomes a real member of 1A, instead of just a visitor. The whole class helps him design a costume and come up with a name and in general are just like, “Cyborg Hero, yay!!”

- And that’s all I got. I think eventually he would fight the league, and probably retrieve his chip, giving him 100% of his memories. There’s a LOT of trauma to deal with there, because he was basically torn apart and put back together several times by AFO, but they do gain all the information they need to take down the LoV for good. And the Overhaul arc is in there. Izuku might still intern with Nighteye, because All Might is like, “Robot successor? Maybe???” and he wants Nighteye’s opinion. Nighteye can’t see his future, because he’s not fully human, but eventually he gives his stamp of approval. Eri is rescued and that’s a very personal fight for Izuku, because he identifies with what she’s gone through. And of course she loves him and thinks his ears are cute and his glowy eyes are pretty.

- Oh, and the School Festival. I honestly don’t even know what to do with him. He can learn any instrument just by like, downloading some YouTube tutorial videos. He can learn any dance by watching it once. He’s really strong, really fast, and can also operate as a speaker (though that can be awkward, cause it’s through his mouth, so he’d just be standing there with his mouth open). They might keep his role same as canon, idk. They’d probably all fight over him.

- I’m sure none of this was anything like Chobits. Sorry. I just think the ears are neat, really, and liked the idea of Izuku being a cyborg (Chobits isn’t even about cyborgs, lol).

Sorry this is outrageously long! If you want to write this into a full fic, feel free to use my ideas! Just give me a shoutout, maybe? And tell me about it, so I can read it!

[b1ksh88p]

Be Mine ⛏

Plot Plot: You’ve been in a few relationships, unfortunately all ending in tragedy. You had a reputation for being a bad omen. Truly you were a sweet girl but it seemed like every single one of your lovers ended up dead or horrendously disfigured in the long run. This Valentine’s Day your boyfriend decides to jump ship for some blonde crushing the little hope you had left for your love life. In a slightly drunken haze you sneak into the mines for a rant about the cursed corporate holiday and to drown your sorrows in the solitude of the mines. But it seems like you’ve got a listener.

Tags/Warnings: Lots of cursing | Sprinkle of angst | Fluff

The cold air of the abandoned labyrinth did nothing to cool you down as you ventured further into its clutches. To put it lightly you were on fire. Every part of you wanted to tear someone apart. The auburn liquid sloshed around as you clumsily stomped past heaps of forgotten debris. If not for your drunken stupor you would’ve turned back. Everyone knew the horrific tale of the pickaxe cannibal murder. Although you were sure the story was somewhat embellished you’ve heard worse. Poor fuck did what he had to do to survive. Anyone else would’ve done the same, it’s human nature to do anything no matter how gruesome to survive.

“Give a girl a box of cheap chocolates and a fucking bouquet of withering roses and she’s supposed to repay ya by sucking your fucking dick and acting like yer the best thing since sliced bread.” You grumble.

The deeper you go the darker it gets. Stone walls become suffocating and everything looks like the enemy. A fight or flight response may have kicked in but you were in no place to think rationally. When your heel broke you fucking snapped.

“Stupid Roses, fuck ass chocolates, fake relationships for fake people who wouldn’t know love if it fucking stabbed them in the face!” You yell throwing the broken heel piece deep into the darkness. “A corporate holiday with no fucking insignificance! Just a money plot and a excuse to fuck and act like you like that worthless pathetic fuck you’re dating that you like them. When all 364 days you’ve been with em ya fucking loathe them!” You continue on tearing up the damned holiday in partially incoherent babbling until you hear glass break.

Despite your conditions you aren’t stupid. “Fuck is that?” You call out whilst backing up. At first you’re sure it’s a group of horny teenagers but through the gritty lights you see a single foreboding silhouette. This was where you run. Or at least you should’ve. Instead you squint your eyes like some tourist taking in the sights and step forward. “Bud y’know the mines are abandoned cuz of the poor guy who had to eat his friends right?” You call out. “I mean do you if this is your thing I support it but it’s kinda weird since you look exactly like the serial killer guy. Spot on cosplay.” You compliment. The figure doesn’t move. It doesn’t even look like he’s breathing. You feel your hairs start to stand up and goosebumps pepper you skin. It seems your liquid courage was fading.

“Welp I’ll leave you be, don’t wanna bore you with the details of this fucked up holiday.” You let out a wry laugh before turning your back on the figure. You get about 12 good steps in before the stride of death crescendos behind you. Now you were running. Your broken heels doing wonders at making this chase the easiest for your attacker. In the midst of running you take them off and throw them off behind you. Now look you weren’t aiming for the guy but when you heard the hit connect and a surprised grunt you got the feeling you were fucked. Instead of running in a straight line you dip into a little crawl space. Maybe he’d give up and fuck off you. To your horror the man crouches down and starts to crawl his way inside.

Without thinking you take the whiskey bottle and crash it on his head. “Leave me alone I don’t even like this fuckass holiday you fucking weirdo!” You cry. He looks up at you and stops trying to fit.

“Why not.” His voice was eerily calm. As if he weren’t some insane pickaxe murderer but a man.

“Well because it’s stupid and to lovy dovy. And because it feels wrong to celebrate it when such a tragedy had occurred.” You explain. “And...and I got dumped today so there’s that.” You huff.

“...You pity me?”

You shake your head. Words weren’t really your strong point and you didn’t need him thinking you were coddling him or anything. Instead you just stare into the glossy eyeholes with your own praying he’d just fuck off. You practically shit yourself when he continued to scramble through and stand up. You grab a rock and stand ready to knock him upside the head with it only have your wrist harshly grabbed mid throw.

“I don’t want your pity.”

This was it. You were gonna die. And it was gonna be painful and super fucking lame. On your headstone it would say:

“Loser girl no one cares about got dumped on Valentine’s Day...also got murdered lol”

Even though you wanted to sob and cry your eyes out you were way to stubborn to go out pleading and begging. “I was being empathetic you weirdo! We do what we gotta do to survive, and you did just that. You aren’t some crazy murderer. You’re just angry and traumatized and that’s ok!” The grip on your wrist only tightened. “Gah! Th-the system failed you dude. The whole fucking city failed you and still is failing you! You ha-have a right to be mad! I’m not excusing what you’ve done b-but shit I would’ve done the same!” You squeal feeling the blood flow completely cease as he tightened his grip.

Suddenly the pain stopped. You open your eyes and rub your poor wrist hoping the feeling would return. He seemed more docile. It was as if his entire aura had changed. The man sat down on a hunk of rubble, his weapon clenched in his grip. If you didn’t know better you could’ve sworn he was crying. It was a silent sob. Nothing overtly dramatic, kind of how like you’d expect a man who’s rarely cried to cry. It was unnerving. The only man you’ve ever seen cry was your dad and that was when he laughed to hard. This...this was gut wrenching.

This monster that was hellbent on killing you seconds ago was now a sad man huddled up in a corner like a child. You could never feel the pain he’s felt, relive the days of utter darkness and skewed rations. Never could you imagine the gritty taste of human flesh. The depravity one must have for themselves. The survivors guilt. The nightmares he must relive. He kept muttering something about the dark and the how he wasn’t a monster. How he just wanted to see the light again.

“It’s ok.”

You weren’t sure you could touch him so you just sat in front of him. He was still shaken up but the sound of your voice seemed to get through to him. “It’s ok and you’re safe. I’m here. I won’t go anywhere I’d you don’t want me to...” You could bare the cold for a night. You’d rather be frozen to death then brutally murdered.

Both of you sat there for what seemed like ages until he moved. You were on the edge of slumber before seeing a gloved hand slither towards yours. You wanted to move it. Make haste and dip but your body had become heavy. Your eyes seemingly weighed down by stones. Before you knew it he was oddly holding your hand. You saw him looking at you intently. Probably waiting for you to scream or pull away but you stayed put. One hand held up your head whilst the other was his to experience. It had probably been awhile since he’s been so vulnerable so you let him have this. It wasn’t like you had anything else to do tonight but sleep and pray that the hang over didn’t beat your ass in the morning. Before you could fall asleep he pulls you into a really awkward half ass embrace against the cold stained suit. It was far more comfortable than the back straining position you were in a second ago but man this guy was bad at ‘snuggling’. You felt like he was gonna smother you! When he found a comfortable position he rested that stupid ass mask on top of your head with a satisfied grunt before you gave up on protesting and fell asleep. How the hell were you gonna get home

When you wake there’s no cold embraces or odd masked men. Instead you find yourself wrapped in some dusty old quilt at the entrance of the mine. For a moment you think everything that occurred was a mere fever dream. A whiskey fueled hallucination. You scramble to your feet and notice a little note that had fallen from the tattered cloth. The paper, or what you hoped was paper and not dried human skin, had fairly neat handwriting. It was short and morbidly sweet.

Thank you.

There was a part of you that was absolutely mortified. The note solidified your suspicions of what had taken place last night. But the other part of you was strangely elated. You turn to the mine and put your hands to your mouth to amplify your words. “THANKS FOR NOT KILLING ME ILL MAKE IT UP TO YOU!!!!!!” You yell happily before heading back into town. You were pretty sure he didn’t hear you but it calmed you to know that he not only spared you but someone actually appreciated your presence.

This was definitely not your final encounter ⛏

#⛏

[witchy-mel]

The Note

[A/N: This is a Russell x Petey "one-shot" fanfic. I put one-shot in quotes because I low-key kinda ship them and this is basically just my interpretation of how their relationship would... begin(if that makes sense lol). I won't be necessarily adding on to this, but if my school work doesn't take over me, I might make different situations of this ship(or just draw it idk). FYI: I'm going to be using Petey's full first name when he's not being referred to in quotes just in case you're wondering why he's referred to so formally lol(idk why i did it this way, but it's just better for me than to just use 'Petey' all the time).]

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It was 3:30 pm on a Thursday. Classes were over for the day. Kids were racing out of classroom doors, hurrying to meet with friends to talk about weekend plans and whatnot. Something Peter wished he was doing right now. Unfortunately for him, he was walking down the halls with Derby Harrington. They were talking about their part of the class project they got assigned to in English. Luckily, they got the easiest part. All they had to do was a six-slide PowerPoint report summary of the current novel the class was reading, Romeo and Juliet. Every one else was assigned a skit or some sort of visual representation, and Peter was glad he wouldn't have to experience another episode of 5th grade. But his luck didn't last long because he got paired up with Derby. If he had a list of Preps that he couldn't stand, Derby would be at the very top. His snobbish behavior irritated him and he was going to have to deal with it for two weeks. He couldn't switch partners either because Mr. Galloway had already picked these groups in advance so he was just going to have to deal with it. Hopefully, he won't drive him crazy before the end of the week.

They had stopped by Peter's locker so that he could put away his stuff and grab his book. "So, we'll do three slides each, then, " Peter said while neatly stacking his things into his locker. The golden-haired boy leaned on a locker next to Peters, examining his manicured nails with one leg crossed over the other. "Let's keep this simple, okay. Harringtons are very busy people, y'know." Derby said, who was now examining the nails on his right hand. 'Yeah, because buying yachts and spending daddy's money is soooo time-consuming,' Peter thought while rolling his eyes. Ignoring Derby's statement, they proceeded to talk about how they would set-up the project. While they were discussing their plans, the hallway next to them was emptying faster than when one of the bullies would chuck a stink bomb in the cafeteria, making the already horrid smell of the lunchroom even more unbearable.

Kids were darting left and right, frantically trying to avoid the person that was coming their way. Cheerful conversations were replaced with gasps and footsteps tapping against the floor. It was Russell and he was heading straight towards Peter's locker. His head hung low, his face dull and ominous. His power-walk made him look even more threatening. It wouldn't take him long to get there. "... and make sure to be prepared the day before the due date. We don't-" Derby was cut short after he took a glance up from his hand, seeing Russell storming towards them. He quickly fled into the bathroom that was close to the lockers.

Peter, on the other hand, was still rummaging through his locker. He was looking for his book for the project. He could have sworn he had put it on the top shelf. He had already toned out Derby earlier, which was for him, but it was a little too quiet. "Sorry, what were you saying?" Peter asked as he closed his locker, pretending as if he was listening. He'd imagined Derby would be standing there with his arms crossed with an impatient look on his face. Strange enough, he had completely disappeared. "Derby...?" Peter called out while he looking around, but no response. He just shrugged it off; more time to work then. He decided to use a copy online until he can find his.

He turned from his locker and was greeted by Russell looming over him. His tan skin slowly faded into a sickly white as he locked eyes with the taller and significantly larger pupil. His face was red, and his eyebrows were burrowed. Was he mad? But why at him? He greeted him nervously, "Uh...h-hey Russell," his voice small and shaky. Russell suddenly slammed his giant hand against Peter's locker, trapping the petite boy in between himself and it. The noise of the metal clashing together made Peter jolt and hiccup a gasp. There were so many thoughts were racing through his head. 'What is happening?' 'Did I do something wrong?' ‘Is he going to shove me in the locker?' ‘What does he want from me?’ Russell had begun to raise his tightly balled fist. Peter just flinched beneath him and waited for whatever was to come. A minute passed before he realized that he was still in one piece and wasn't smooshed into someone's messy locker. Peter slowly opened his right eye to see if it was just some prank to scare him. Well, that's what he hoped. To his surprise, he saw a little, white, wrinkled envelope resting in Russell's large palm. "For...Petey," Russell said, who was now looking away from the smaller boy, his face slightly flushed. Peter carefully took the envelope out of his hand. "Ah- t-thank you," he said, with a fearful grin. Russell removed his hand from the rusty green locker and shoved them into his dirty, jean pockets then walked away from Peter, leaving him lost for words.

Peter watched as Russell walked away until he disappeared behind the hallway walls. After grasping what had just happened, he slammed his body into the locker and slid down to the tiled floor. A sigh of relief escaping his lungs. He looked at the envelope in his hand He turned it around in his hand. 'What could be in this?' he thought as he studied the envelope. Knowing Russell, surprises from him either left you injured or eternally traumatized. "Is he gone?" asked a voice coming from the right of him. He turned his head towards the bathroom to discover the once obnoxious and over-confident prep cowering behind the boys' restroom wall. It was kind of funny. He couldn't blame him, but still. "Yeah," Peter answered back. He was trying to hold back laughter. "Good. Speak of this to anyone, and I'll have daddy sue you." Derby threatened while he brushed off his Aquaberry vest and recomposed himself. Peter quickly cleared his throat and put on a straight face. “Well, now that that's over, I'll be seeing you tomorrow in English, so be prepared.” He then proceeded to walk down the hall towards the main doors. Peter decided it was his time to leave as well and because he was getting sore from sitting on the hard floor for so long. He pushed himself up and headed for the boys' dorm.

When Peter entered the dorm, it was quieter than usual. It was practically empty. Well, it would be if Gary and Jimmy weren't sitting on the couch watching some cartoon on the tv that he didn't care to recognize. ‘Just great…’, he thought. If they spotted or heard him, especially Gary, they'd probably hassle him about the letter. He had to figure out a way to get past them quietly. Then it came to him. As ridiculous, and probably unsanitary, as it was, he got down on all fours and started crawling to his room. Since he was small enough, it would be easier for him to sneak past. Successfully making it past the entrance to the living area, he now had to make the final stretch. As soon as he was far enough from the doors, he tiptoed the rest of the way to his room. When he got to the door, he slowly turned the doorknob and opened the door wide enough so that he could quickly slip in. He slid through and gently closed the door.

The duo continued watching tv in the living room, but Peter's plan didn't necessarily go as planned. Unfortunately, the main doors weren't as quiet as he was. "He does know that we heard him come through the front door, right?" Gary asked before taking another sip of Beam Cola. "Just let him have his fun," Jimmy replied, still focused on the tv. There was a moment of silence until Gary placed the can on the floor next to him and leaped over their couch, "I'm gonna see what he's doing," Gary said. He shoved his hands into his pants pockets and headed towards Peter's room. Jimmy sighed, then t switched off the tv.

Safe and sound he hoped. Peter plopped straight onto his bed. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out the envelope. He examined it a bit closer than when he was in the school halls. It was sealed with a barely sticky, small, pink heart sticker, and on the back was a note that read 'For Peter' written in three different shades of red in colored pencils. He lifted the sticker from the paper and pulled out the neatly folded piece of notebook paper stored inside. But before he could even read it, it was snatched out of his hands. "What'cha got here, femme boy? A love letter? Let me guess... it's for Beatrice, isn't it?" Gary teased, "Or wait, maybe it's for one of the jocks. I know how much you love to watch them during football practice in those tight pants." Gary pestered, causing Peter's face to go red. He didn't even hear him come in. He knew he should've locked the door! He had to get that letter back before he read it. "Hey, give that back!" he cried, stretching his arms up to grab the piece of paper Gary was taunting him with but was failing to reach it. "And it's not mine; someone gave it to me," Peter explained, still stretching for the paper. He knew he shouldn't have said that, knowing it would only make this worst. "Ooh~, a secret admirer, huh~?" asked Gary, seeming even more interested, "It can't be any of the girls. Hm...maybe one of the nerds or, better yet, one of those idiotic bullies! That seems right up your alley." Gary insulted. A sly, toothy smirk painting his face. Peter had stopped reaching for the paper bowed his head, tightly balling his fists up in his lap, almost digging his nails into his palms. His vision became blurry, and his face was hot.

"Cut it out already, would ya? Geez." Jimmy instructed while propped up on the door frame, his arms folded. "What? I was just playing around," Gary shrugged. Peter quickly snatched the paper out of Gary's hand, secretly wishing it would have given him a paper cut. "You're such a jerk, you know that?" Peter snapped back, clearing his watery eyes. "Aw~ did I hwurt da baby's feewlings? Here let me kiss it better." He extended his arms, attempting to hug the smaller boy but was restricted by a hand pushing on his chest. "Shut up..." Peter responded irritated, dodging eye contact.

"Well, when you two are done making out, I would like to know what's going on here," Jimmy said impatiently. "Little Petey here got a love letter," Gary said, pushing himself away from Peter. Jimmy raised an eyebrow, "A love letter? From who?" This was the part that Peter didn't want to happen. He knew if they found out, they'd probably, no DEFINITELY, laugh at him. Especially Gary. That's why he wanted to get to his room unnoticed. But he couldn't just sit there in silence, wishing he could turn back the time. He took a deep breath and spoke, "...it's…from Russell..." the boy softly answered.

"Russell?!" the duo exclaimed, jaws practically dropping to the ground. "So I was right! Haha, that's hilarious!" Gary laughed as if he had heard the funniest joke in the world. Jimmy elbowed him in the arm, almost causing Gary to fall. The taller boy glared back at Jimmy while rubbing his arm. "What does the letter say?" Jimmy asked. Peter uncrumpled the paper from when he snatched it out of Gary's hands so that he could read it. The handwriting was really neat, but the grammar was close to illegible. He tried his best to decode the message. "Meet Russell at...Old Bullworth Vale Garden tomorrow... at 4:00 pm." ‘4:00?’ 'What does he want to meet up for?' Peter thought about the incident that went down at the lockers and it sent shivers down his spine thinking about it.

"Ooo~ little Petey's going on his first date." "Would you cut it out already?" Petey shot back. He was growing tired of Gary's little comments. That combined with the thoughts of Russell potentially trapping him a port-a-potty only gave him a headache, and Gary wasn't making it any better. "Could you guys just go…please?" He said while rubbing his forehead. This was stressing him out. The two said their goodbyes and left Peter to drown in his thoughts. He could hear them arguing outside his door, but he wasn't paying much attention. He was still thinking about the note. He laid down on his bed and stared up at the broken ceiling fan. He thought to himself, 'Why did I read it?' 'What if I just threw it away? Then what?'. Peter didn't have time to worry about the ‘what-ifs’. He had a project to do. He groaned and rolled out of his bed. Sitting at his desk, he opened up his laptop and began working. Hoping that this would keep his mind off of it.

It was the next day at school. The day was nearly over, and Peter felt as though he had made no progress at all. All his day his mind was fogged up with recurring thoughts. His thoughts had shortly came to a stop because a faint voice was coming into tune through his right ear "…ey. Hey! Snap out of it!" It was Derby who was snapping his fingers, trying to pull the dazed boy out of his trance. "Hm? Oh, sorry, I got a little distracted..." Peter explained. "A little?! You've been "distracted" almost during the entire class! This is the third time I had to wake you back up!" Derby responded sharply. "I said I was sorry, alright? I just have a lot on my mind right now..." Peter explained. “Ha! What exactly could poor people even think about? Now is not the time for jokes, Kowalski.” Peter stared him down, now even more annoyed. He wished he was daydreaming again. Derby rolled his eyes and sighed. "Whatever, let's just get back to work," Derby instructed. They continued to work on their separate slides, Peter trying his best to keep his head out of the clouds.

*RING* The sound of the last school bell. To Peter, it sounded like the final gong before disaster struck. He stopped by his locker to put his stuff away before heading to the dorm. When he got to the dorm he headed straight to his room. He entered his room and sat on his bed. He sat there for a while. He scanned the wall in front of him until his eyes landed on the clock. A couple more minutes until it was time to meet up with Russell. He stood up and walked to the mirror behind the bed. He stared at his reflection. He looked drowsy. He hardly got any sleep last night. It was because of the note. That stupid note kept him in and out of sleep. Even when he was doing his work, that couldn't take his mind off of it either. And this was all because of a piece of paper. More so the person who wrote on that flimsy piece of paper. He slapped his face a bit to wake him up a bit and bring the color back to it. He contemplated whether he should change his clothes or not, but he decided that was unnecessary. It's not like he was going on a date or anything, despite what Gary said, so he just took off his vest and fixed up his shirt collar. He looked back at the clock. It was about time. He looked in the mirror and gave himself a reassuring nod. He headed out his room and straight to Old Bullworth Vale Garden. At least he would've been if he didn't have an unexpected visitor.

Gary was standing in front of him, his hand raised to knock on the door. Great, another person he didn't want to see today. They stared at each other for a while. “Look. I have somewhere to be, so if you have something important to say, hurry up.” the smaller boy explained. “Rushing to see your new boyfriend, huh?” Gary teased. Unsurprisingly, he only came to annoy him. Peter tried to walk past him, but Gary quickly blocked his path again. Peter sighed, “What?” he asked impatiently. “Look, I'm sorry, ok. For yesterday.” “You really think I'd fall for that? I know Jimmy told you to do this.” “Well, yeah. But if I didn't, then you'd ignore me for the rest of the week. Then teasing you won't be as fun. So…apology accepted?” Gary asked with a crooked smile. Peter shook his head. “I'll think about it.” He responded firmly. He pushed past Gary and continued on his way.

Well, here he was. No turning back now. He scanned the park looking for Russell, but he couldn't see him anywhere. Fortunately, he brought the note with him. Peter pulled the note out of his back pocket and unfolded it. He re-read it to see if there were any directions. Nothing on the front. He flipped it over to the backside. In blue-colored pencil was a message in the middle of the paper that read: 'Meet by soda machine' He stuffed the paper back into his pocket and treaded up the long stone path. When he reached the stone wall before the picnic area, he paused for a bit. There he was. He was sitting on the far left of the stone bench, staring out into the distance. He puffed out his chest then walked over to him. "Hey, Russell!" Peter greeted with a tiny wave, trying not to sound scared. Russell spun his head around and directed his vision to the smiling boy. Hi, Petey..." the red-head replied meekly, his cheeks a little flushed. "Mind if I sit here?" Peter asked, pointing at the vacant spot on the bench. Russell shook his head which allowed Peter to pop-a-squat right next to him.

"Sooo, what did you want to talk about?" Peter asked. Russell was nervously twiddling his thumbs, avoiding eye contact with the smaller boy. He never felt this anxious about someone, especially someone who he deemed as weaker than him. And that was nearly everyone! But for some reason, Peter was different. "Well...," he started, slowly, "Russell has been feeling weird. Towards you…" "Weird? What do you mean?" Peter asked curiously. "Whenever I see you...Russell get a weird feeling in my stomach, and heart goes fast," he answered. He could feel his cheeks getting hotter. It took Peter a while to realize what he meant. When he did, his eyes widened. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Wait, are you saying that you like me?" Russell nodded, his cheeks becoming darker by the second. "For how long?" "A while," Russell responded shyly. Peter was still shocked about the unexpected confession. He didn't know whether to feel relieved that Russell wasn't going to make him walk home smelling like the boys' gym locker room or surprised that Russell had admired him.

He never considered Russell to be his type, not that he had one, but he's pretty sure not many people's types are destructive bullies. But he had to admit when Russell wasn't threatening other students for their lunch money, he was kind of… cute, when he was like this, in one way or another. That's one thing he never thought he would think about Russell."It's okay if you don't like-" Russell began before being cut off by Peter, "N-no, it's fine. I don't mind..." he said while rubbing the back of his neck. A little splash of maroon now tinting his cheeks. Russell was surprised by the response a bit, but it shortly turned into a soft smile.

It was starting to get late, and Peter didn't want one of the prefects reporting him for being out after curfew to Dr. Crabblesnitch. "Well, if that's all you wanted to talk about, I should be getting back to the dorms." He explained. "Russell give you ride back," Russell offered. Thinking about it now, Peter didn't have any way to get back to the dorms, and he didn't like walking around at night. "Oh, okay. Thanks." Peter followed behind Russell towards the entrance gates to retrieve his bike. He stepped onto the spokes and tightly wrapped his arms around the bigger boy's waist. "Ready?" Russell asked. "Yeah," Peter replied. Russell raised his foot off the ground and started pedaling.

Russell was biking slowly just in case he went over any bumps, Peter wouldn't go flying off. The smaller boy was resting his head on his back and his arms wrapped around him gave his butterflies in his stomach, but the good kind. Peter was able to take in the scenery from the beach. The sunset made the town look so peaceful, especially the beach. With little speckles of the sunlight bouncing off the water, it was as if the sea were a peach that contained all of outer space. The scent of Russell's cologne and the view made Peter feel calm. He involuntarily nestled himself closer into his back which caused the redhead's heart to beat faster it could nearly pop out of his chest. He smiled to himself as he continued pedaling towards the school purposely going a bit slower so that the moment would last longer.

They arrived back at the school not long after. Russell parked his bike near the first step of the boys' dorm. Walking up the stairs, Peter stopped at the highest step and Russell two steps behind him so that they were at eye level. Or at least where Peter wasn't bending his neck to see not even half of his face. “Thanks for giving me a ride back.” the tiny boy praised with a gentle smile. “You're welcome," Russell replied sheepishly, blushing. There was small silence between them. The whooshing of the lukewarm early autumn wind filling in for some of the white noise. Before anyone could say anything to break it, Russell planted a little peck on Peter's forehead before walking back down the stairs to his bike. Russell waved back at Peter before getting on his bike and hitching it back home. Peter watched as Russell rode out to the courtyard as they waved at each other. When he was completely out of sight, he slightly touched his forehead and smiled to himself before entering the boys' dorm.

As soon as he got to his room, he fell onto his bed. He took one of his pillows and covered his blushed face in case someone walked in him. Little giggles passing through the pillowcase. He rolled around joyfully, completely messing up his bedsheets. The excitement letting loose throughout his body. He finally had calmed down after a session of frolicking all over his bed. He had almost forgotten to finish the rest of his slides. Now that his mind wasn't as cluttered as before, it would be easier for him to work. But considering what had just happened, he'd probably be distracted thinking about that now. He headed to his desk so he could get started, but before he even sat down, he noticed a book on top of his laptop. There was a piece of paper attached to it with clear tape. He picked it up and sat at his desk chair. Pulling the paper off revealed the cover of the book. Romeo and Juliet. He took a look at the note the was stuck to it. It read:

['Hey femme boy. I stole your girly book. I realized that I didn't want any of your girliness or any of you rubbing off on me, so I decided to return it. Be grateful.'

Sincerely,

You're BFF Gary Smith ;) ]

'So that's where it was huh?' Peter thought. He tongued the inside of his cheek before releasing a slightly annoyed laugh. At least he got his book back. That's all that really mattered. He'll get him back later, but for now, he had work to do. He flipped open his laptop and continued his previous work.

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

That's the end! I'm not really good at writing(even tho my strong suit is English/Literature 👀), so I hope that this was at least a little bit enjoyable/entertaining and not too cringy😅

[magpiemorality]

Seeking: Family, Foster Twins 8

You Only Have To Ask

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse throughout this story. Lashing out, conflict, cursing for this chapter.

It's November in America, which can mean only one thing. Unfortunately the whole traditionally family holiday thing could end up being a tricky subject for two teenagers in foster care...

First | Previous | AO3

***

It felt like no time at all before it was Thanksgiving and the boys were off for break. Not the best timing to have such a family orientated holiday, but Patton was determined to make the best of it.

Making the best of it here meant; handling the whole thing as delicately and sensitively as possible, and mentally and emotionally preparing for the inevitable slip ups to come. They'd had a similar issue with Thomas all those years ago (who had called to say he was going to work over Thanksgiving at his college and come back for Christmas instead), and Patton winced when he thought back on it. At least this time he had Emile on standby if things took a real turn for the worse, a whole heap more experience, and a better understanding of what the actual underlying issues were for both twins.

But the best weapon he had at his disposal was the two boys themselves. It would be harder to misstep if they'd chosen the route, after all.

"Hey, so Thanksgiving is in a few days, and I wanted to know your guys' thoughts on things. Can we have a house meeting?" He asked them, finding them both hanging out in front of Netflix that rainy afternoon.

"Sure," Remus agreed easily, hopping up from the cushion. "Here or somewhere else?"

"Here is fine," the adult smiled, ruffling Remus's hair. "Sit yourself back down kiddo, no harm in being comfortable."

Roman seemed less convinced, as always, but now that Remus was asserting himself more and more he seemed to have lost a lot of his momentum in his instinctive fight against Patton. He didn't move, but did tap the remote to pause the show they had on and turned his head vaguely towards the other couch that Patton fell onto. Little victories…

Options. "Right! So I did things a certain way before you guys got here, but I'm not stuck on tradition or anything, if there's a better way you want to celebrate. If you even feel like celebrating at all?"

In the quiet Remus shifted, thinking hard if the frown on his face was anything to go by. Roman inspected his fingernails and turned his phone round a few times, glancing at his brother first. It was interesting, if a little worrying, to see the reversal of roles from how they'd been when he'd first met them both. Something to mention to Emile perhaps, when they broached the family therapy session subject.

Eventually Remus cleared his throat. "Um, can we take some time to think about it? I have a lot of thoughts and I want to make sure they're all sorted out first."

"Why don't you just say you want a nice happy family Thanksgiving?" Roman mumbled. "We all know you do."

"Maybe I don't, you don't know that!"

"I think I do."

"Well you're wrong! I want- I don't know what I want yet. And that's okay too, isn't it Patton?"

Hurdle number one. Okay, take on this obstacle without overthinking it, Patton, c'mon. "That's right. It's better to take some time than to react instinctively and regret saying something later. Sometimes you need to but-"

"Oh stop with the fucking psycho-babble!" Roman hissed, jumping up and running off. His feet thundered up the stairs and his door banged loudly when he got to his room, and Patton took a moment to re-examine the hurdle. Maybe it was a little more like an iceberg in a water obstacle, mostly hidden below the surface…

"He's always so mad!" Remus whispered, looking at the door his brother had vanished from with big eyes and a scrunched nose. "I don't know why but I think- do you think he hates me now?" He asked, and Patton just had to slide down to the cushion on the floor and offer his arms so the teenager could hide his sniffles in a hug.

"No, kiddo," Patton soothed him gently. "I think there's a lot going on and he's finding the easiest way to let it out. Mostly we do that when we're scared, and I don't know for sure, but there's a lot Roman could be scared of right now, don't you think?"

Remus shrugged.

"Whatever it is it's not something you've done, alright? You keep thinking about your ideas for now and I should go talk to Roman. I think maybe he might need a hug too and I'd like to offer."

"But shouldn't I be the one to do that?"

Patton cupped the back of his curly head, full to the brim with tender fondness. "Oh kiddo, that's real good of you. You're all kindness inside aren't you? But let me look after Roman for a bit now, and maybe you can offer him a hug too, in a little bit? I bet he'd appreciate you thinking of him."

"Okay," Remus agrees, letting go and sitting in Roman's spot on the couch.

"Okay."

The knocking went unanswered for a while. Patton tried a couple of times before he resorted to talking through the door, much as he disliked having to. Boundaries were one thing, but just allowing Roman to feel like he had all of the control in the situation could be as damaging as the opposite. And really it wasn't so much that he needed to be controlled as parented. Structure and guidance at Roman's age was invaluable, and now he'd decided to stop his sports as well there would be a loss of sorely needed routine that Patton was just hoping would transfer over to his performance club instead.

"Roman?" He called at last, softly. "I'm going to come inside so we can talk, alright?"

After giving Roman a moment to gather himself Patton pushed the door open and walked in, closing it again behind himself. "Hey Roman," he greeted the boy sat on the bed. He had his knees hugged up tight to his chest and he was glaring at the bedspread. "So. That was kind of a lot you put out downstairs. You wanna-"

"Oh cut the crap, Patton, I was being a brat. Why can't you just come out and say it?" Roman snapped.

"Because that's not helpful wording. And you're a teenager with trauma, Roman, I'm not gonna lie and say everything is okay, you could certainly hold the cursing a bit, but some outbursts are kinda inevitable."

"I said mean things."

"Yes. And why did you do that?" Patton wondered, sitting at the desk chair in the room. "Was it because you wanted something to happen?"

"No I-" the teenager faltered, before renewing his scowl. "It's none of your business."

"Well, that's sort of not true. I'm your foster parent now, Roman. You are my business, and when you're hurting it's my job to try and help you out."

"Well, I'm so sorry you got stuck with that."

Patton sighed. "Can I come sit with you for a sec, kiddo?" He asked, rubbing his hands over his knees. Roman rolled his eyes and shrugged in the same movement, shifting over very slightly and curling up even tighter somehow, looking as small as Patton had ever seen him.

"Dunno why you're even asking. It's your house," he muttered, and the adult took a moment to regroup.

"So, I think we've got a little mixed up somewhere," Patton began after a moment, perching on the edge of the bed beside Roman. "Because I'm not 'stuck' with you. I chose to take you and your brother because I wanted to help, and I wanted to help you boys. And that goes for both of you. I know we don't necessarily have the same friendship that Remus and I do, but that's okay. I'm not judging you differently for it, alright? I'm really not, but-"

"Kinda feels like you are."

"... Do you really feel that way?" Patton asked softly, a little horrified that the thought had even crossed Roman's mind.

"Well, yeah! I mean, you never try and hug me, or ask me to help in the kitchen, or touch my hair, or like, call me kiddo or have stupid midnight chats with me. You're just all over Remus and his stupid need to please! You're probably fucking him up even more, you know?! He won't even talk to me anymore, he just worships you, and that's not fair! You can't steal him! It's not fair!"

"Oh Roman, gosh. We'll," he cleared his throat quickly. "We'll go through some of that in a moment but right now I do want to hug you, real bad. Can I?"

Roman just nodded, and folded like a house of cards when Patton wrapped his arms around him, toppling over into his lap. He was clearly crying but Patton tried to allow him the dignity of not fussing too much. Except maybe, that's where he'd been going wrong so far?

"There, it's okay, you cry it out baby, alright?" He murmured, stroking Roman's hair slowly. It only made him sob all the heavier, and Patton closed his eyes and prayed it was cathartic and not traumatic. He waited until the boy in his lap had mellowed to sniffles and lying limp, before helping him sit up again, and reached for the box of tissues on the nightstand to start helping him clean his face up. "Oh sweetheart. Everything that I do with Remus, that's on the cards for you too, okay? Anything we have, it's not that he's earned it or I like him more, he just asks. All you gotta do is ask, and I'm so sorry you didn't know that before. I'm really sorry I didn't make it clear and you felt like you were being treated different.

I know you've got boundaries and I wanna respect them, because that's important too, so you gotta communicate with me if you want something to change, alright baby? I won't judge, I won't be upset or annoyed or disappointed if you want to change that, and I won't take a yes to a hug today to mean you'll want one tomorrow, you understand? These are your boundaries. I won't cross them, but you can step over and back whenever you like. That's what they're there for."

Roman gazed at him with his cheeks all blotchy and Patton fought not to well up in empathy. "I think it's best if we all start seeing Dr P. for some group stuff sooner rather than later, don't you? Help give you guys some of the words or tools you can use for times like these?" Patton suggested, brushing away a stray eyelash dislodged onto Roman's cheek by the tears. "Cause there's a few things you just said that I really want to make sure I don't do. Like taking Remus from you, that's not my goal, y'hear? But I also won't deny him what he needs when he asks for it, and you guys will have to figure that part out between yourselves. Can you try and do that?"

The head in his hands nodded slowly, and when he moved to pull away Roman stopped him, shyly giving him a blink and holding onto his wrists. Patton waited, silently willing Roman to find the words, cheering him on with a little encouraging smile until the teenager managed to croak out a quiet request for him not to go just yet.

"Of course, Roman. You want a hug again, or something else?"

"Can you just, sit here and keep doing this?" Roman asked, and oh boy could Patton oblige. The swelling of his heart in his chest powered every muscle in his body with pride and joy, and it was all he could do to just nod and keep gently brushing his thumbs over Roman's cheeks as the boy breathed and closed his eyes, giving in to the need for comfort.

They would come back to the Thanksgiving question later on, and decide that maybe choosing a movie or video game and having a fun night in could work for all three of them, picking their favourite snacks. They ended up playing hours of a hard-fought Smash Bros tournament that Patton spectacularly lost but thoroughly enjoyed, especially when Roman outlandishly cheated by leaning across him to sabotage Remus's controller, turning a slightly shy grin his way when the adult just laughed at the audacity. The twins camped out in the living room together that night too, and when Patton finished in the bathroom later on and made the walk back to his bedroom, he could hear soft whispers and giggles from down the stairs, and smiled in relief.

A better Thanksgiving he couldn't have asked for, as the first of many to come.

--

Next

[myidlehand]

Hello. I’m back with another Geralt/Eskel thing.

I have this headcanon that sometimes the Witchers get really overwhelmed by everything around them since all their senses are so acute. And I also wrote a line in the previous piece in this series about Eskel helping Geralt thought his trials and I wanted to write something around it. But you can read this and not read Fear without missing anything. 

Wordcount: 2581

tags: Eskel/Geralt, Hurt/Confort, Baby Witchers

 I’m sorry the editing looks a bit weird, I don’t know what's going on. You can read it on AO3 if you prefer.

I wanna say a huge thank you to @poetastic for always listening to me and reassure me about writing stuff and let me talk her ear off every day. She hasn’t found my off button yet ^^ (it’s crispy m&ms).  Go check out her blog, she’s awesome and a kind person :)

Senses

The smell of sweat, acrid and burning cold on his flesh. The dazzling rush of blood in his hands, his chest, his veins. The beat beat beat beat of his own heart deafening in his ears. The air tearing at his lungs with each breath. Darkness too bright in his throbbing eyes. It’s so much, so much, all at once.

He gasps and curls around himself, needing the world to be small and quiet again.

The door open quietly, grating louder than his own bones shifting under his skin.

“Geralt?” He winces at the voice, covering his ears and whimpering very quietly.

Sounds of light steps moving across the dirt, soft but heavy. The burning heat of another body, settling next to him, almost touching but not quite. The coarse fabric of the tunics they all wear shifting and shrieking in his ears. Everything hurts, everything is raw. He scratches at his own skin, fingernail already turning red.

A hand tenderly settles on his and tucks it away gently.

“Don’t do that please”, the voice murmurs.

“It hurts so bad Eskel, everything’s too much”, Geralt gasps and snatches his hand away trying to make himself even smaller but his skin burns every time he moves.

Eskel waits a moment. His senses are quick to adjust to the darkness of the basement where they are sitting in a corner. But he still needs a minute to see well enough from the sliver of light coming from under the door. He turns his body to shield Geralt’s oversensitive eyes from the light. The smell of the dirt is strong and unpleasant, the air feels wet and heavy. He can’t imagine how it must smell to Geralt with his enhanced faculties.

Looking at the small form in front of him, Eskel gets lost in thoughts. This would be the third time they’ve put Geralt under experimental trials. The first two hadn’t been as terrible as the last. Geralt had screamed and kicked and begged for it to stop but when Vesemir had led Eskel to his bed, he had quickly calmed down under his touch. The mages had protested, not wanting him to bear witness to what was happening in the darkness of the trial room, but Vesemir had left them with little choices. Eskel’s voice had been a reassuring presence throughout each of the trials after that first night. Few other boys had been chosen and none had survived past the first few additional mutations. Each trial had been a mountain to climb. Eskel would be led out of the room on the last morning every time when Geralt was finally completely conscious and not delirious with the pain anymore.

He knew the mages and trainers wanted to inspect his brother as closely as they could before letting him loose among the others again and they didn’t need Eskel for that. His task was done. He had overheard and pieced together enough conversations while smoothing Geralt to know his own future at Kaer Morhen depended on Geralt’s ability to survive the trials well. Somehow Vesemir had managed to convince Rennes that Eskel was indispensable to ensure the success of the experiments. His point had been made when the other boys had died screaming alone and Geralt had quietly survived after Eskel had climbed in the bed with him without a pause and held him tight all night long. He had smoothed the skin around his wrist when Geralt had pulled at his restraints so hard they had started to bleed and let his voice become a soft blanket for Geralt to hide under from the pain. His hair had turned white from the traumatic experience but he had survived and it was all that mattered.

If it wasn’t for the older Witcher, one of them would have been sent away already, probably to the Griffin school. That was what happened to trainees who got too close to each other. They got separated and sent to train under new Masters. Most of them didn’t make it to the trial of the Mountain, belonging to both schools and neither of them at the same time. Not all the mutations were compatible. Eskel wasn’t a fool, the Wolves would never let go of Geralt. But neither would he.

Vesemir had come to him this morning, worry plain on his face. Eskel had been dismissed after two very intense nights and days. Geralt had screamed and clung to him more than usual and had to be pried away from his arms that last morning, exhausted but still so strong. Eskel had thrown a last worried glance towards him before the door had been shut on his face. Geralt smelled more strongly like pain and exhaustion that the other times. It left a bitter taste at the back of Eskel’s throat he had come to hate.

Barely a quarter of an hour had passed before the older Witcher had found Eskel and explained that Geralt had run away from the trial room before the mages could examine him fully. There was no doubt he had run to the deepest basement, no one could hide from a proper Witcher, but nobody had wanted to force him to come out. One of the mages had explained the last trial had been designed to enhance all of Geralt’s senses specifically and he was probably just extremely overwhelmed. Eskel remembered how it had felt to open his eyes for the first time and seen colours he didn’t even know existed. How everything had been too bright before he’d learned to contract his pupils. How each of his senses had been assaulted the first few weeks following the trials. Why would the mages need to make it even worse? What purpose would it serve to push Geralt beyond every limit when everything was already so overwhelming for each of them? Maybe there was no purpose he thought. Maybe they just wanted to know how far they could push him before he died. Eskel was led to the right corridor and could smell Geralt’s fear even from three doors down. But if they were to allow them to stay together, Eskel had to do his part. He didn’t mind. He would never mind smoothing Geralt’s worries away.

Geralt lets out another tiny whimper that focuses back all of Eskel’s senses at once.

“I know you’re hurting Geralt, I’m here to help”, he answers as quietly as possible, running his fingers lightly through the white hairs in front of him. Geralt’s gives a full-body shiver at the soft touch. He’s curled into a ball and lets himself fall to his side on the cold floor, too exhausted to keep himself up any longer. Eskel takes his hand away, it’s clearly too much.

“I know you’re overwhelmed right now but I’m going to need you to focus with me?”

“I can’t”, Geralt answers, face buried in his knees, rocking himself a little.

“Of course you can.”

“It hurts, everything hurts.”

“I know, I know”, Eskel answers, lowering his voice even further. “You remember the teachings?”

Geralt shakes his head a little.

“Come on, I know you do. You’re overwhelmed when you try to focus on everything at once. You always want to run first but I need you to slow down for now. For me.”

“I don’t know how. Everything is so loud. I can hear my blood run in my veins.”

Eskel winces at that. If he concentrates he can faintly hear breakfast being prepared two floors up, someone is cleaning vials above them and some people are already training outside. He used to hear all of that constantly but they’ve learned to tune things out instinctively when they aren’t important. Their minds trained to warn them if they pick up on anything dangerous.

Right now, everything is at the same level for Geralt and he can hear much more than Eskel can.

“We’ll do it together. Just one sense after the other. We don’t need to rush.”

Geralt doesn’t answer but unfolds from himself just a tiny bit. His eyes are closed tight, his breath almost panicked.

“It’s just you and me and nothing else alright?”

“Al… alright.”

“Good.”

Sound seems to be the easiest to deal with right now. it’s probably one of Geralt’s most overloaded sense right now, but it’s something Eskel has started to work on as soon as he entered the room.

“Alright Geralt, I need you to focus on me right now. Nothing else okay. Can you do that?”

“I… I don’t know."

“First I’m going to need you to sit up for me.”

Geralt’s shiver at the thought of being exposed so much and shakes his head no.

“That’s okay.” Eskel quickly rethinks his plan. “We’ll go slowly. Can you focus on my voice? You don’t need to move. Just listen.”

Geralt doesn’t answer but Eskel doesn’t need him to. He lowered himself to the floor instead, face right next to Geralt’s own. “Focus on my heart Geralt.”

They are quiet for a few minutes. Eskel makes sure he’s relaxed so his heart will beat at a steady, calming rhythm for Geralt, who’s breathing is erratic and loud in the small quiet room. Eskel can see Geralt’s eyes move under his eyelids, seeking the source of a noise that caught his attention, incapable of focusing more than a few seconds. That won’t do.

After a couple of minutes, Eskel starts to hum a song, extremely quietly. Geralt’s breath stills for a second or two, surprised. Eskel can sense Geralt's entire body suddenly focused solely on him. It’s not a song Eskel sings often but he always enjoyed it. He hums it twice over before Geralt relaxes a fraction and unfurls a little bit more.

“May I touch you?”

Geralt nods, still not opening his eyes but clearly more concentrated now.

“Alright. I’m going to start with your hair”, Eskel warns before running his fingers very lightly on top of Geralt’s hair, barely even really touching them. At first, the simple touch sounds like sandpaper to Geralt’s ear making him wince a little.

“Focus on the sound and make it quieter”, Eskel reminds him.  When Geralt finally settles, tuning down the sound, Eskel works his fingers in the white locks and pets them, being very careful to not pull at all when he feels some resistance. Geralt has been tossing and turning all night, his hair is a mess. He lets his finger run all the way to the base of Geralt’s neck and that earns him another full-body shiver, but Geralt relaxes a bit this time. Next, very carefully, Eskel rubs his thumb right above Geralt’s ear where his skin is most sensitive, his palm resting on the hair without moving much. He’s just making very small reassuring circles.

“Alright there?”

Geralt makes a tiny content sound. His breathing has improved greatly.

“Okay, I’m going to touch your face now.”

Eskel’s palm moves from his hair to Geralt’s cheek carefully, his thumb stroking right under Geralt’s eye, at the top of his cheekbone. It feels excruciatingly hot and Geralt frowns his eyebrows, needing to concentrate fully to make the feeling bearable again. Eskel looks, fascinated to see Geralt relax under his touch bit by bit and finally press his cheek a little against his palm. He would like to do this forever but it’s not the goal here.

“You’re doing so well for me Geralt. I’m going to move to your side now.”

“Okay”, Geralt answers quietly, please to hear the praise from Eskel. He misses a breath when Eskel’s warm hand presses against the top of his hip, where the tunic wasn’t covering all of his skin.

“Stay focused on my heartbeat.” He warns gently. After Geralt relaxes again, he starts stroking up from the hip all the way to his ribs in a long, feather-light caress then back down again. Geralt’s skin is on fire, like all his nerves are raw and exposed. But after a minute or two, the touches become familiar and comforting. Eskel moves his hand up and down, up and down and up again, more and more insistent but never forceful.

“Tell me how it feels.”

“Hot. Tingling. Raw… like… like I can feel you still touch my hair and my face and my side all at the same time.”

“Does it hurt?”

“A little, at first. Now it’s okay.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“N… no. But could you… would you sing to me again?” Geralt asks, embarrassed. His breathing is ragged under Eskel's touch but no longer frantic.

“Of course”, Eskel answers softly, giving Geralt a little indulgent smile and starts humming again.

Geralt has let go of his knees and Eskel moves a little closer. Close enough that Geralt can press his face to the hollow of his shoulder and inhale deeply if he wants. Geralt takes the bait, instinctively.

“What do you smell?”

“Dirt? Wet dirt.”

“Focus just on me Geralt, not the room around us,” Eskel answers, not stopping his strokes. Geralt inhales again.

“Soap. But not fresh? From a few days ago. And… and wool. Sweat. But not bad. Just you. Good.”

Eskel chuckles.

“Shut up”, Geralt growls a little. He lets his head fall back on the floor, body and mind almost completely relaxed now. Eskel uses the opportunity to push him on his back, his hand still on Geralt’s side. Geralt goes willingly, feeling Eskel’s body shift a bit to move slightly above him. Eskel is not straddling him, not wanting to undo all his hard work so he pushes all his weight on one side, using his right forearm to lift himself up.

“Open your eyes”, he murmurs and Geralt does without hesitation. “What do you see?”

“Warm Honey”, Geralt barely answers, breathless. His own hand coming up to stoke Eskel’s face this time. Eskel’s smile sweetly. Geralt had the same reaction the first time he saw his new amber eyes. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from Eskel then either.

“Kiss me”, he whispers.

“Are you sure?” Eskel answers with a frown. He doesn’t want to overwhelm Geralt again.

Geralt, always impatient, surges up and kisses Eskel, pushing him up, his left hand coming to grab the back of his neck. Eskel’s hand grips his hip a little more where it was gentle before and his arm, free now that he doesn't have to take all his weight anymore, comes behind Geralt to support him in a sitting position. It’s a little bit awkward but it works. Geralt is forceful at first but calms down after a minute and allows Eskel to kiss him a little more tenderly. It’s the way he prefers kissing Geralt when they are both exhausted after the trial and Eskel has managed to whisk him away in the darkest corner of the dormitory. The other boy pretends they can’t hear them kiss quietly for hours, Eskel’s hands seeking every possible millimetre of Geralt’s body to make sure he’s still whole. Geralt’s body changes quickly after each trial and Eskel always has new things to discover and catalogue.

Geralt breaks the kiss first but doesn’t go far. They push their forehead together, noses touching and breathing quietly for a few seconds, eyes closing again, just appreciating being in each other's space.

“Thank you. For being here for me” Geralt murmurs, his hand stroking the back of Eskel’s neck gently.

“Always”, Eskel answers back in a quiet exhale.

***

Thank you for reading! I really appreciate that you kept reading all the way to the end.

I have lots of different pieces on my AO3 if you’re curious

[sweetjekyll]

Writerly contemplation tag!

tagged by the lovely @j-pping; thank you for the tag!

this might end up being long so I’ll add a read more cut ☺️

2020

what was the most challenging part of writing this year?

I guess the most challenging part of writing this year was tuning out the real world. I’ve always used reading and writing as a form of coping and escapism from all the things that were troubling me. Unfortunately there were times when simply reading and writing weren’t helping me and I took so many breaks, postponed so many WIPs I was excited about... I ended up beating myself down for not being able to keep up with an expectation I had for myself and my writing. Considering 2020 was hell for everyone, I came to terms with myself that it cannot be always my fault, I can’t blame myself for not being able to do things I set my mind to do, sometimes there are obstacles that take time for you to cross.

I’m just going to quickly mention stressful anons and hopefully get a point across for all fan fictions writers. WE ARE NOT ROBOTS. WE ARE HUMAN. All of us write for many personal reasons, mine are that I just love writing things which I wish to read! Simple as that. What I wish for some rude people to understand is that the least you could do for us creators is be thankful and be kind to us, give feedback and constructive criticism, share our work. I don’t understand why you are scared of the reblog button. When I go through my notes and take a look at some blogs, they are empty. No one is paying us to contribute creatively to the fandom, you are enjoying our content for free while we put hard work and our free time into it, so why should we “hurry up”, “update faster” and “write more/this/that”? Please, remember that we are people too, and the toxicity some people spread on anonymous asks is just incredibly baffling and hurtful to me. If you, as a reader, believe that my request is nonsense and my words are too harsh, then perhaps you should reconsider how you’re viewing content creators before disagreeing without a valid reason.

what was the most enjoyable/rewarding part of writing this year?

The happiness that came from writing something which I enjoyed reading as well! I have been a writer for years on another platform until I had to take a long hiatus because of writer’s block and depression. For how cheesy this may sound, the most enjoyable and rewarding part of writing is in fact writing something that makes me happy even if I’m torturing my characters and traumatizing them. There is truly no point for me to write things that I don’t feel I am enjoying. As I have said other times before on the blog, I would much rather post something that makes me happy, than post something just to get notes from silent readers.

what piece has left the most impact on you and why?

Given the fact that I have not written a lot because of my constant mental health breaks (yes 2020 had me on rollercoaster mental breakdowns more often than usual), I have to say that Damaged is what really kept me entertained with myself and perhaps sane. It has been way too long since I’ve taken on something so creative as building an entire universe from just a dream, but it’s what reminded me why I love writing so much, it reignited my passion. With this story I really wanted to challenge myself to write something unique, something I’ve never done before with any other work... And I admit it’s quite difficult; the easiest part was taking inspiration from EXO’s lore, but the hardest was incorporating it in a universe and storyline completely different to the original concept. It’s something I’m set on finishing as a complete multi-chapter story no matter how long it takes.

what have you learned about yourself through the process of writing in the past year?

To be completely honest, I learned that I can push myself out of my comfort zone when writing, because every piece is a fictional world of its own, every character can be more than a copy and paste personality. What do I truly learn about myself if I don’t explore things I have not thought about before? I learned that I should not be afraid to write of things that I don’t know or fully understand, specifically about things that I didn’t post but tried for just for fun. It is a good way of finding out whether a certain subjects interests me or doesn’t. I love doing lots of research and gather information for the stories I’m writing, you get to learn about stuff you usually would never think about.

how has your writing changed in the past year? how have you grown?

Well, I don’t really have anything to compare my writing to except my older fan fictions for movies and tv shows. I guess I have changed quite a lot since 2018; my writing style has become more fluid, at least I think it has. I’m also able to write longer chapters without feeling as if I am dragging it out for the sake of the word count, yet now I have to literally stop myself from just writing too much! It pleases me, to be honest. I remember struggling to sometimes put ideas into words and balance narrative, dialogue and descriptions.

2021

ignoring your wips for a second, if you had all the time and energy in the world to write your magnum opus piece, what would it be about? why is that the dream story you’d write, all other things controlled for?

This can go back to Damaged, honestly! It’s something that I haven’t finished writing and it will be a long story. It’s the fan fiction which has gotten me out of a 2-year-long writer’s block with such strength, I feel truly attached to it. As I mentioned in one of my first answers for 2020, this is the WIP I want to focus on the most and be proud of it.

how do you want to grow in your writing this year?

I mentioned this is my first 2021 post after I took a short break, but one of my resolutions for this year is to work on self acceptance when it comes to my projects. (I’ll copy and paste what I wrote there so I don’t repeat myself with other words) One of my resolutions for 2021 is to write more, to not be afraid of beginning something and even if I end up setting the story aside, at least I will have gotten it out on (digital) paper. I punish myself way too much when I’m not able to finish something, and that is truly one of the worst things a content creators can go through, in my opinion. I have many drafted works that may or may never be published and I wish to appreciate them more instead of dwelling on the fact of what they could have been.

what’s one thing you’d wish to see in the fan-writing community this year?

I wish for more love and recognition of the amazing and talented writers that share their content with everyone on tumblr. We are a community, or at least we are supposed to be. I would absolutely love to see more readers actively interacting with writers, share ideas, share art inspired by what you read! As readers, you can contribute as well by sharing moodboards, song recommendations and/or playlists! You are more than welcome to join us in the community as writers too! 

As for myself, I have mentioned this towards last year but I still want to compile a list of all the writers I am currently following and read their works. I haven’t been in a good mindset to do that for a long time and I wish to get to know them. I’m a pretty shy person who struggles to start up a conversation, so I hope I get to make some friends on tumblr this year!

name one new thing you want to try doing in your writing this year.

I would like to make a list of aus and experiment with them for either one shots or some short series! I have so many creative ideas and thoughts but I always forget to take a note or maybe I’m doing something else and I end up getting caught up in a stream of consciousness, until I lose the initial spark. Also mentioned plenty of times, I would love to write for other groups, like nct, but for now I’ll focus on exo.

✨✨✨

anyway, that was it for my writerly contemplation tag!

I’m tagging a few fellow writers, but feel free to ignore for any reason! sorry if I forgot someone but feel free to do this even if I didn’t tag you!! @pororodks @velvetsehun @yeoldontknow @yeagerluvr @soos-goddess @shaalk @mooneylooney1 @dewbebe

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 77

Warnings: none

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @alievans007​, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​

“Easiest way to do this is to park on the east side of the Sultana Kamal Bridge,” Esme instructs,  face emotionless and eyes riveted on the road in front of them.

The closer they get to the city center, the more powerful the anxiety grows; gnawing at her stomach and tying it into knots and painfully tightening her chest. The mere thought of being in Bangladesh itself has been nerve wracking enough, but being minutes from the downtown core and from the single most traumatic event of her life has her body and mind rebelling. Incessant nausea accompanied by a pounding headache; her heart thundering in her chest and sweat gathering at her temples and along the nape of her neck.  She feels light headed and repeatedly wrings her perspiration slicked hands together and bounces her leg up and down. The beginning of the ride had been tolerable, but when weather beaten high rises and smaller, derelict apartments began to appear on the horizon, the situation became far too real. It’s terrifying and puts her already frazzled nerves on high alert, and there’s nothing she wants more than to tell Koen to stop and turn around; go back to the house and get someone else to do the dirty work. To find a way back to Mumbai and her children; wait the situation out and hope  and pray that they can go home sooner rather than later.   But it isn’t that easy. She can’t simply walk away and wash her hands of it. Not when Neysa and Aarev are being held captive and especially not when her own family is being threatened.  There’s not a single escape   that doesn’t involve going directly into town. And unfortunately, the quickest way in -and out- is over that bridge.

“You sure about that?” Koen asks, a frown curving his lips. “Doesn’t seem easy. Or smart for that matter.”

“It’s way too crowded right downtown,” she reasons. “Especially at this time of the day. This is prime market hours. I’ve been here; I know what the streets are like and I know they’re crowded and damn near impossible to navigate in a car.”

“And if shit goes down, we have a hell of a long way back to our ride,” he informs her.

“If shit goes down, it won’t matter where we’re parked. Thirty inches away, thirty feet, thirty yards, thirty miles. If something goes wrong, we won’t make it back to the car no matter how close it is.”

“So how do we get back? If something does fuck up?”

“We don’t. At least not until nightfall. We find somewhere safe to hunker down until things have calmed and we can start moving again. And that’s IF we get that far. You do realize what will happen to us if we’re caught, right? If Asif’s people catch on or the cops figure out we’re connected to Tyler? Chances are, we won’t survive long enough to see the sun go down.”

“Jesus Christ…”

“I know places where we can hide out if we need to. But they’re only good if we can get to them. We have to get into town and be smart and be quick. The longer we’re there, the higher the chance of things going to shit. I learned that the hard way. I don’t want you to learn it too.”

“But if we…”

“You have to listen to me!” Esme snaps, and he blinks at the force in her voice. “I’ve been here before. I know the city and I know the market area and I am telling you that the best thing to do is park on the east side of the bridge. There’s a clearing there; it’s where we got Ovi out. And if you want to get out of this, you’ll learn from my mistakes. Because I made enough of them seven years ago and I don't want to make any now. I have too much to lose and I won’t let you fuck this up!”

Silence descends on the car, and she places an elbow on the ledge of her window and her palm against her forehead. Eyes closed as she battles both increasing nausea and the flood of tears that threaten to escape. It’s all too much; the sunlight glistening of the waters of the Buraganga, the cityscape in the near horizon, the faint outline and expanse of the bridge in the distance, even Amir Asif’s home -still occupied and majestic; looming down river.

“I’m sorry,” her voice trembles. . “I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

“That was hardly yelling, kiddo. You’d make a great third wife if you think THAT’S yelling.”

She manages a small laugh. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I’m just stressed and tired and scared. And this baby has me hormonal as fuck already.”

“You know, that last part could have been prevented had you just told him to roll over and go to sleep,” Koen teases, then drops a hand from the steering wheel and lays it on the back of her neck, gently massaging. “It’s okay, sunshine. I get it. I understand.”

“This place...Dhaka...that bridge...it’s nothing but horrible memories and a lot of suffering and a lot of trauma and nightmares and bullshit. I do NOT want to be here. I don’t even want to be in Bangladesh. Or Mumbai. I just want to be home; with my husband and my kids and my dogs. I want to wake up in the morning to the sound of the ocean and fall asleep to it at night. And I want to sit on my back porch and watch my kids play and hear them giggle and squeal. And I want to cuddle up to my husband knowing he’s safe and sound and that there’s no one out there that wants to hurt him. That’s all I want. And I don’t think that’s too much to ask.”

“It’s not. It’s definitely not.”

“I almost lost him to this place once, and I don’t want the second time to be successful. I know I pride myself in being a strong, independent woman, but I can’t lose him. I CAN do this life alone...raise the kids by myself...but I don’t want to. That man is my entire world; he’s my best friend and he’s my lover and he’s my confidant. He’s my ‘person’. And if that makes me weak and pathetic for saying all that, I don’t give a shit. It’s true. I love him in a way I thought I could never love another human being. And I’m not ready to let that go. To let HIM go.”

“It won’t come to that,” Koen assures her. “I’ll see to it. That it doesn’t happen.”

“Tyler showed up at a time in my life when I’d given up on ever trusting a man again. Mark was a terrible person, he destroyed me in every possible way and Tyler came along and he picked up those pieces and put them back together and he never once complained about it. He just did it. In his own way.  He always talks about how I saved him, but he doesn’t realize he did the same thing for me. That he saved me in every possible way a person can be saved. If I'd never met him, I probably wouldn’t even be here. Because I was just as much of a mess as he was and just as ready to give up on everything.”

“I never realized it was that bad. That YOU were that bad.”

“There’s a lot of things people don’t know.  That only Tyler knows. But believe me when I say that I was broken and I was lost and he found me. We found EACH OTHER.  And he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I don’t care how cliche it sounds or who hears me say it. It’s the truth. And I didn’t let Mahajan or Asif’s people take him from me. I didn’t let them the first time, and I won’t let it happen this time either.”

“You’re a tough little shit," Koen praises. “You know that?”

“A tough little shit bawling like a baby in front of you? Yeah, that screams tough.”  She uses the backs of her hands to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “Don’t tell Tyler I got like this, okay? He worries enough. He doesn’t need to know about my mental breakdown.”

“Your secret is safe with me, kiddo. But I’m afraid I have some things to say that might make you cry some more.”

“”Oh great! Just what I need; looking like a wreck on the job.”

“Now this is all between me and you, because we both know how embarrassed he gets about feelings and emotions and all of that crap. Just between us, yeah?”

Esme nods.

“First, I have to start off by letting you know that he is wildly and crazily, head over heels,  in love with you. More than he thinks he could ever possibly tell you. So if he doesn’t say it a lot, just know he’s feeling it.  That every time he looks at you, he sees his entire world in front of him. The most beautiful, incredible woman on the planet.”

“He told you that? That came out of his mouth? Was he drunk?”

“Stone cold sober. He does say things WHILE he’s drunk, but those are triple x rated, so…”

Esme laughs. “Of course they are.”

“He is terrified of losing you. Right scared shitless. And he isn’t scared of much and he certainly doesn’t admit what he IS scared of. He doesn't want to do this life without you, and he’s pretty convinced he wouldn’t be able to. I’ve seen women come and go out of his life; mostly one night stands or girls in different places he could go to for getting his rocks off.”

“Nik?”

“Nik meant nothing. He’s not lying when he says that. There wasn’t anything there; at least not for him. And I knew his ex. Sarah. Spent some time with her.”

“”Yeah, I had the pleasure of meeting her. When they shipped him from the hospital here to the one in Sydney.  That was a...pleasant...experience.”

“He thought he was in love with her.  High school sweetheart, mother of his first kid. She treated him like complete shit and they’re both at fault for how that whole thing ended up. But when you came along? When I first met you at the hospital and I talked to him about you? I could tell you were different. That what he was FEELING was different. And I saw how he looked at you; how his whole face just lit up when you walked into the room. The way he’d smile at you and how the whole tone of his voice would change when he talked to you. He had it bad even then; I could tell.”

“Maybe he was still caught in the afterglow of those five days.”

“It was more than that. We all knew it. And I’ve known Tyler a long time; I’ve seen him at his worst. And when you came along, I could see how badly he wanted to change. How much he wanted to be the man you needed him to be. That you deserved. And he worked at it. He STILL works at it. You could have easily walked away after Dhaka. Even with a baby in your belly.”

“I didn’t want to walk away.” Esme says. “I wanted to be with him. I wanted to see if we could make something out of nothing. And we did. We made something so amazing.”

“No way he was letting you go. He knew he had a good thing.  He wasn’t going to fuck that up.”

“We were both a mess. And somehow we’ve managed to not make an even bigger one and not totally screw up our children.”

“Those kids are incredible. They’re beautiful. The best of both of you. And they’re here because you looked past just how messed up their daddy was and you saw the potential in him. He was screwed up, but you still managed to see he was a good person...a good man...under all that. And you gave him a chance. To prove that he mattered. That his life meant something.”

“His life has always meant something to me. And it means everything to his kids. He’s our entire existence. He’s the one that keeps it all together when it feels like it’s falling apart. And it WILL fall apart; if something happens to him. If he doesn’t make it out of here…”

“He will,” Koen insists. “I’ll make sure of it. I’ll make sure he gets out and gets back to you and those littles. I promise.”

She gives a  small, hopeful smile.

“And thank you. For taking care of him like you do. For giving him this life. And for loving him like you do.”

“Your voice…” her voice cracks once more. “...you are going to make me cry again..”

“Some things just need to be said,” he reasons, and runs a palm over the top of her head and down her hair. “Just in case.”

****

“We have a problem.”

It’s difficult to make out what she’s saying; a mixture of poor signal and the near deafening sound of vehicle horns blasting and impatient, flustered yelling of people gathered around her. But there’s no mistaking THAT tone of voice. Fear and worry and a whole lot of anxiety.  He had  just managed to fall asleep -a combination of pure mental exhaustion and another handful of meds- when the phone rang; startling him awake and leaning him disoriented and lightheaded. The extra dose of dilaudid making his head spinning; drowsy despite the nap and sweat beading across his forehead and the back of his neck.  And he grimaces as he sits up on the couch, wincing as he stretches his legs out in front of him and then reaches across his body to rub his shoulder. All those drugs and it STILL persists; that dull, incessant throb deep within the joint and the numbness in his hand.

“What’s wrong? You okay?”

“We parked on the south side of the Sultana Kamal bridge. I figured it was easier to walk in then deal with the traffic and the crowds around the market.”

“Good thinking.” he praises. “Definitely the best way to go. What's the problem?”

“They’ve locked the bridge down. All of the bridges, apparently. They’re not letting anyone through without showing proper ID.”

“You got it, yeah? The one Anil got for you?”

“I do. But that’s not the point. If they’re doing this, they know you’re here. How the hell would they know? We were so careful; coming from the airport.  How do they know you’re here?”

“I have no idea.”

“Someone is feeding these people information. Someone inside. You need to call Anil and let him what’s going on; tell him he needs to figure this out. How are you supposed to do an extraction if you can’t even get into the city? They will kill you on sight, Tyler.”

“I’ll have to figure that out. Is it just the cops?”

“Military too. This is some serious fucking deja vu. As if being on this bridge isn’t bad enough…”

“Are you okay?”

“Not really,” Esme admits. “They have pictures of my husband that they’re comparing to everyone that walks or drives across. So no; I’m not okay.”

“I need you to stay calm. I need you to get over the bridge, get shit done, and get back here safe and sound. I know it sucks; being there on the bridge. But I need you to stay calm. If they see you freaking out, they’ll know something is up. So I need you to settle down.”

“What do we do? If we can’t get out? What do you want us to do? If they lock the city down completely?”

“You call me. You call me and I’ll come and get you. You find somewhere to hide you and I will find a way to get there and get you out.”

“They’ll kill you. If they see you…”

“Better me than you.”

“And if we get caught?”

“Don’t fight them. Let them take you. You fight, they’ll make it worse on you. And if that happens...IF you get caught...I still come get you. Right now, I need you to just relax and get shit done, okay? In and out. No mistakes. Not a single fucking one.”

She gives an uneasy laugh. “No pressure, right?”

“You’ll be alright. You’ve got this. You’ve done this kind of thing hundreds of times.”

“Not when there’s so much at stake, I haven’t. I feel sick. Like really sick.”

“You’re working yourself up. Just try and stay calm. I wish I was there with you; I wish I was the one keeping an eye on you.”

“I wish that too. I’d feel a lot better about all of this if you were here.”

“And it should be me. With you.”

“Koen has things under control. I trust him. Not in the same way I trust or as hard and as deep as I trust you, but…”

“You’re going to be okay. You run into any trouble, you call me. You call me and I’ll get you out.”

“I love you, Tyler. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too. You’ve got this. I know you too.”

“I’ll call if I need to,” she promises, and then disconnects the call.

Sighing heavily, he tosses his cell onto the coffee table and then leans forward and places his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands.   It’s his worst nightmare; her out on the street without him to keep an eye on her. As much as he trusts Koen and knows his friend would stop at nothing to keep her safe, he also knows Koen’s limits. He hasn’t been on the job that long, and despite his years in the military, he simply doesn’t have the skill level or the experience that Tyler has. And it's hard as hell. Being able to do nothing but sit back and wait while his entire heart is out there walking around, putting itself in danger.

He feels nauseous, and both his head and his heart pound furiously. He squeezes his eyes shut and drops his chin to his chest; attempting to steady himself -and his nerves- with long, slow intakes of breath through constricted lungs. It’s the start of a panic attack; he recognizes the fast, irregular heartbeat and the twisting and knotting in his chest and stomach, the perspiration that dampens his hairline. All he can think of is the worst case scenario; Asif’s people grabbing her and spending days...even weeks...making her beg for mercy and eventually death. Doing disgusting and horrendous things to her; abusing her in ways that will make his nightmares seem tame. And they’ll make sure he witnesses it; whether it be through photographs or videos or even forcing her to call him.

His eyes snap open as he reaches for his cell phone; prepared to call Anil and let him know of the hurdles awaiting him in the city center. Pausing when his eyes fall on the bottle of meds sitting nearby. He’s already tripled the recommended daily dose and it’s not even past noon. But there’s no denying the pain; the throbbing in his shoulder and knee and the gnawing in his stomach. And his hands violently tremble as he reaches for the bottle, resorting to using his teeth to twist off the cap. Feeling shame and guilt as he lets four pills drop into his mouth and then swallows them dry.

****

“Something’s not right,” Esme says, as she drops her cell phone into her bag.

The heat is stifling and the humidity nearly unbearable; the Dhaka sun bright and punishing as it beats down on the pedestrians crammed shoulder to shoulder on the bridge. She refuses to acknowledge her surroundings. Choosing to walk along the curb as opposed to near the railing; keeping her eyes straight ahead and never looking down at the ground or out at the river. It’s still too hard; the memories still so fresh and vivid.  Easily able to recall the exact spot in the cracked and dirty sidewalk when he’d been dying in her arms and she’d resorted to sticking her fingers in his neck to save his life. She can still hear the staccato of gunfire and the cries of the wounded and dying and smell spent lead and spilt gasoline. Still able to see the burnt out shells of cars and trucks and mangled, bloody bodies.

“There’s nothing right about any of this,” Koen grumbles, a hand resting protectively on the small of her back, keeping her half a step in front of him as they make their way to the checkpoint.

“That’s true. But I meant with Tyler. Something isn’t right with him.”

“He seemed fine this morning.”

“He is FAR from fine. Things have gotten so much worse since the night he was jumped. The pain is intense and he’s suffering more and more and I don’t know what else I can do for him, other than forcing him to go to the doctor when we get home.”

“Just keep loving on him like you do and taking care of him. I know he appreciates it; Even if he won’t admit. And Lord knows he’s stressed and he’s worried and he’s got a lot on his mind. Makes sense he’s not himself.”

“It’s more than that. He didn’t sound like himself. He sounded...off. He didn’t sound like Tyler. I KNOW his voice; I know its changes and all the different ways it can sound depending on his mood. And that? I haven’t heard that Tyler in a long time. Since our battle trying to beat Oxy. He almost sounds like he’s on it; he’s groggy and just out of it and his accent is even thicker. It’s hard to explain.”

“He was probably napping. You probably woke him up.”

“No. I know what he sounds like when he first gets up in the morning or when he wakes with the baby. It wasn’t that. I know it wasn’t. It’s weird, right? That I notice those things? The changes in his voice? That must seem weird to you.”

“He’s your husband; You spend that long with someone, you notice things. Even the smallest of them.”

“How come you didn’t stay married?” she asks. “Why didn’t any of your wives work out?”

“Marriage isn’t for everyone, sunshine. I happen to be one of those who can’t be married AND happy. I just can’t. Can’t be tied down like that. I like not having to answer to anyone. Doing what I want, when I want.’

“But did you love either of them?”

“Love is...subjective.”

“Humour is subjective. Love is love. You either feel it or you don’t. So did you? Love either of them? Tyler said he liked the second one. What was her name? Kim? He said she was really nice; that she seemed crazy about you. How come you didn’t hang onto her?”

“She was friends with Sarah. His ex. So once they split up for good, it kind of made things difficult between Kim and I. I know he fucked up...HUGE…but I also know what she was like. I know she was always cheating on him and doing him wrong. A lot of us didn’t even think the kid was his.”

Esme arches a brow. “Really?”

“We had our doubts. For good reason, too. He’s never told you that?”

“No. I guess he’s never felt a reason to. But knowing Tyler, it wouldn’t have mattered to him if Austin wasn’t really his. He would have loved him and taken care of him anyway.”

“That big heart of his is going to be his downfall one day.”

“Nik doubted Millie. Hell. I think Tyler even doubted Millie when I first got pregnant. Which is understandable.; I totally didn’t blame him for questioning it. But her? Even when Millie was a baby and even a toddler, she tried putting it in his head that Millie wasn’t his.”

“Which is bullshit,” Koen says. “I mean look at the kid and look at the father.”

“Right? She looks just like him! There’s no way he could ever deny her. Nik’s been a thorn in my side since day one. And I just…” she grimaces and lays a hand against her stomach. “...oh god...I feel so sick.”

“It’s the heat,” Koen reasons. “You shouldn’t be standing out in it like this.”

“It’s everything. The heat, the noise, all the people, the smell of the water...” she draws the neck of her t-shirt over her mouth and nose. “...this isn’t good.”

He moves his hand up to the back of her neck, keeping her moving forward. And when they reach the front of the line, he rummages through her bag for her ID and presents it -along with his own- to the police officer manning the checkpoint.

“Bandha,” the officer orders in Bengali, motioning for Esme to remove the shirt from her face and the ball cap from her head. “Bandha!”

“Now what’s the point of that?” Koen questions. “She’s clearly not the bloke in the picture you got there. She’s clearly not a bloke at all.”

The officer ignores him, pulling a second picture out from underneath the photo of Tyler. A black and white shot of her from the job in Ireland. When she’d sported short, red hair and glasses. And she feels her stomach jump clear into her throat.

“Look, my wife isn’t feeling well,” Koen explains, as he wraps an arm around her shoulders and draws her tight into his side. “We just found out a few days ago that we’re having a baby; our first. And she hasn’t been having a good go of it and the sun’s making it worse. It's obvious she’s not a bloke and she’s definitely not the girl in that picture. So unless you want her throwing up all over the place…”

“I really do feel sick,” she whimpers. “I need to get somewhere to puke.”

“I know, honey,” he presses a kiss to her temple. “And I’m sure this nice policeman understands.”

The officer looks towards the nearest colleague -likely a higher ranked officer -for help. And receives a nod to allow them to pass.

“Have you seen them?” The first officer inquires, showing the two pictures in her face.

“Haven’t seen them a day in my life,” Koen says, and quickly whisks her away.

****

“That was way too fucking close!” Esme finally allows herself a sigh of relief three blocks later, and tucks her hair back under her baseball hat. “Why the hell would they have a picture of me?”

“Asif’s people aren’t stupid. If they know Tyler’s in town, they also know he’s not dumb enough to show his hand just yet. Guess they figured he’d send you in his place.”

“This is fucked. Way more than I first thought it was. How do they even know Tyler is here? Nathan made the most sense as the mole; he disappears and then shows up out of the blue, being held captive by them? A week and a half later? That makes no sense. They would have let us know if they had him. They take pride in shit like that.”

“So you don’t think it’s him now?”

“I still don’t trust him. Something IS shady about him. But he wouldn’t know that Tyler is here. So there has to be someone else; someone on the inside. Two moles.”

“That’s reaching, don’t you think?”

“It’s the only way any of this makes sense. Nathan was the one who told Mahajan’s man where Tyler was that night and what areas of his body to target. They knew, Koen; they knew to go after his shoulder, knee, AND back. They even went after his neck; right where he was shot and the surgeon had to repair that vein. They knew. And then Nathan takes off and doesn’t show up until a week and a half later?”

“But they have him,” he argues.  “Asif’s people. They have him and they’re fucking him up pretty good.”

“It’s all bullshit. I’m sure of it. And there has to be a way to prove it. Tyler can’t just go in there trusting him. He can’t. There has to be a way to find out Nathan is in on this. We just have to figure out what it is.”

“Whoa...whoa...whoa...you and I don’t need to do shit. We’re doing enough being here.”

“I’m going to ask them to let me see him with my own two eyes. When we find out where he is, I want to go in and see him for myself. I’ll know if he’s lying or not.”

“Are you fucking insane?  You can’t go into something like that. That is not your job.”

“If it prevents Tyler from going in and Nathan backstabbing him? I’ll do it.”

“You think he wants you to? You think he wants you to go in there? Put yourself...and that baby...at risk? He’d never allow that.”

“I don’t need his permission.”

“Normally I’d agree with you, but this is fucked. This is a horrible idea. Let someone else figure it out. This is not up to you. You’re doing enough. MORE than enough.”

“But if I…”

“No more,” he orders. “I won’t hear of this. Not a single word more. You mention it again, I will tell him. Hear me?”

“I hear you. I wont talk about it again. It was just an idea.”

“A stupid ass idea.”

She rolls her eyes.

“So what are we looking for?” he inquires, a hand on her shoulder as her eyes scour the market.

“It’s not WHAT I’m looking for. It’s WHO I’m looking for.  And I’m hoping he’s still here.”

“You want to be a little more specific, or…”

“I met a vendor the first time we were here. He sold handmade jewellery. Tyler got me this…” she holds up her right hand; showing off the simple braided leather and beaded bracelet she sports. “...from him. But he’s way more valuable than just his jewellery. He keeps his ear to the ground. BOTH ears. He was able to find out things for me like that…” she snaps her thumb and index finger together. “...and if he’s still here, I’m hoping he can still help.”

“A lot can change in seven years,” Koen reasons.

“Nothing has changed here. It still looks the same, sounds the same, smells the same. That’s where we stayed,”  she nods towards a rundown hotel across the street. “Third floor, second room. The balcony that has the rug hanging over the railing. THAT hasn’t even changed. I bet the toilet is still broken and I bet they haven’t painted the dirty walls or put in a proper shower head. Nothing’s changed; not a goddamn thing.”

For several minutes she searches the market. Attempting to blend in with the other shoppers; making small talk with both buyers and vendors, picking up various objects and studying them, purchasing  food items for the safe house and small trinkets that would appeal to the kids. Koen sticks close to her side; hand never leaving the small of her back, never speaking yet offering pleasant smiles and nods in greeting.

“Here! Over here!” she suddenly exclaims, grabbing him by the wrist and yanking him behind her. Pausing at a vendor tucked alongside of a busy laundry, nervously rocking back and forth on her heels chewing on her bottom lip as she waits for the owner to finish up with a customer. And she notices the look on the older man’s face when he regards her; his eyes narrowed and head tilted to the side. And she sees the glimmer of recognition. “Do you remember me?” she asks. “I know you’ve seen a lot of people since we met, but…” she removes her head and shakes her hair free. “...do you? When we first met, you commented on my hair. About how long it was and how the sun made the red in it sparkle. Do you remember?”

A bright, wide smile spreads from ear to ear. “My friend!” he gleefully cries, and hurries around the side of the table to warmly embrace her. “You haven’t changed a bit!” He presses a kiss to each cheek. “As beautiful as ever!”

“Thank you. But believe me, I’ve changed a lot. How are you? You look wonderful.  Life’s been treating you kind?”

“It’s been fair to me. I can’t complain. Well I could,  but no one would listen,” he chuckles. “You’re back! In Dhaka?”

“Just for a few days. For work.”

“And your husband? He is still your husband?”

“He is. He is still hanging in there. We have five kids now.”

“Five children! Big family. Last time I saw you, you just had the one. A little girl.”

“Amelia. Millie. She just turned six. And she’s so smart and so beautiful. She looks just like her daddy. They’re back at the hotel; the kids wanted to go swimming and he offered to stay behind to take them.”

“Good guy that one!”

“Yeah, he is. A very good guy.And this is my brother. Kyle.” She lays a hand on Koen’s shoulder. “The one I told you about.”

“The fireman?”

“That’s me,” Koen smiles, abandoning his accent  and shaking the hand offered to him. “Thought I’d keep little sis company.”

“I was wondering if you could help us.” Esme says, and begins admiring and surveying items for sale when she notices curious bystanders watching them intently. “I could really, really, REALLY use your help.”

“With what?”

“I need information. Do you still have an ear to the ground? You still have people you can trust?”

He nods.

“Have you seen the picture floating around? The man everyone is looking for? The mercenary?”

“Looks very much like your husband. I only saw him with a  hat on when he was here though. And sunglasses. So I couldn’t say for sure. I didn’t think it was him. A mercenary? That doesn’t seem like a job for someone like him. He was always so friendly and good to me.”

“His name is Tyler Rake. My husband. And he IS a mercenary. Seven years ago, we came here to find a kid that had been taken by Amir Asif.”

“Mahajan’s kid?”

“That’s why we were here. And we found him and everything went to shit. All that trouble on the bridge? That was us. That was ALL us. And I need your help again. And I’m willing to pay. I’m willing to pay VERY well.”

“What do you need?”

“Amir Asif is dead, but in some ways, he’s very much alive. I know he has people trying to avenge him. Carrying on his business. And they've grabbed friends of ours.”

“A woman and a teenage boy,” the vendor says. “And a mercenary.”

“I work for the people that want them back. I need to get word to Asif’s people that I’m in town and I’m ready to negotiate. That I have access to the money they asked for, but I’d rather talk first. And I need proof of life. For all three.”

The vendor nods slowly.

“Can you do it? Get the word out? To the right people?”

“I can.”

“But will you. Will you do that for me?”

“I will.”

“I need it done right away. As soon as I walk away. It’s important it gets done right away.”  She reaches into her bag and pulls out a pen and small notebook, tossing open the cover and hastily scribbling her cell number. “Tell them to text first. They text with a number that  I or one of my people can call. Tell them we want to talk and start negotiations. ASAP. But  nothing will happen unless we see with our own eyes that everyone is alive. That is the only way they’ll get what they want. Tell them I’m in charge. Not them. And that I’ll give them their money, but I’m NOT giving them the man they want. That’s non negotiable and it’s never going to happen.”  She tears the paper from the notebook, then removes a hundred dollars from her wallet and hands both to the vendor. “Thank you.”

“This is too much!” he exclaims. “Way too much! You are too generous!”

“You deserve way more than that, believe me. Thank you. You have no idea how much this means  to me.”

“At least take something.” he says. “For yourself. Your children. Especially your little girl.”

Selecting three  bracelets -for herself, Millie, and Addie-, she slips her hat back onto her head and bids farewell, giving an appreciative smile and a small wave as other customers approach.   And she grabs  Koen tightly by the hand as they slip into the crowd.

*****

He doesn’t hear the phone until it’s on the second ring, and he hastily  rinses the soap and shampoo from his body and hair, leaving the water running as he tosses open the door. Wincing and limping as he hurries across the room and grabs the cell from the ledge of the sink. He’d thought a shower - alternating between ice cold and steaming hot- would help alleviate both the fogginess in his brain and the multitude of aches inhabiting his body. But so far it’s done nothing.

“Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine.”  Relief rushes through him at the sound of her voice. Much calmer...brighter...than it was the first time around. “We just got back to the car. It didn’t start out too good though.”

He uses his shoulder to hold his phone to his ear and snags a towel from the back of the door, loosely wrapping it around his waist. “What happened?”

“They had my picture. At the checkpoint.”

“What the fuck..”

“It was an old one. From Ireland. When I had glasses and my hair was red and short. I almost passed out, I swear.  And I had my hat on and my shirt over my mouth and nose because the smell of the water was going to make me puke and they were going to make me take both off.”

“Jesus Christ…”

“Koen handled it. He told them I was his wife and that it was pretty obvious that I wasn’t the guy or the girl in the pictures. That I was pregnant and feeling sick and unless they wanted me puking everywhere, they’d let me through.”

“And they bought it?”

“Yup. But that was a close call. Way too close. And then I saw  Farhad. On the way back across the bridge.”

“Did he see you?”

“No. I pretended I needed to tie my shoe and by the time I stood back up, he was past us already. I swear...when I saw him...I have never been that angry in my entire life. I know he was just a kid when he almost killed you, but I was so fucking angry. He’s out there walking around like nothing ever happened and meanwhile he’s caused so many fucking problems! If you run into him, you better end him once and for all.”

He uses a second towel to vigorously rub at his hair as he heads out into the bedroom. “Esme…”

“I mean it, Tyler. I won’t have peace until he’s dead. He’s not a kid anymore. There’s no reason to spare him now.”

“Baby, that’s revenge.”

“And sometimes revenge is needed. And I need it. I need that peace of mind that I haven’t had in seven years. So if you run into him…”

“What’s the chances of that? That I’ll actually run into him?”  He hasn’t told her about Farhad’s involvement in Neysa and Aarav’s capture, or the pain and suffering he’s been inflicting on them.  Nothing good will come of that; it will serve only to stoke that already simmering fury and need for revenge that’s been eating away at her for seven years.

“What’s the chances I’d run into him on the bridge?”

He sighs, then grabs his discarded jeans from the back of the chair by the window.

“That little bastard is still out there, walking around. Look at the damage he’s caused. To you. To me. To us. He shouldn’t get away with that. He deserves to pay for what he did. HE NEEDS to pay.”

“You’re just working yourself up. That’s the let down from the adrenaline talking. Or the hormones. Maybe a mix of both. In an hour you won’t feel this way.”

“I’ve felt this way for seven years. It’s not just going to go away. Not unless I know he’s gone.”

“We’ll talk about this when you get back. Talk. Not fight. There’s no sense getting into it now. Everything else went okay?”

“I got the word out. I don’t think we’ll have to wait very long.”

“You’re fucking amazing. And I love you. So much.”

“I love you too.  I just wanted to let you know that we’re okay. I know you were probably worrying yourself sick. And Koen did a great job. He kept an eye on me; not a single hair on my hair was disturbed.”

“So he lives to see another day.”

“Basically,” she laughs. “I’ll see you soon.”

“You definitely will,” he assures her, then presses END on his cell.

****

“That was pretty fucking intense,” Koen declares, as he guns the ignition and peels out of the clearing, leaving a cloud of dirt and dust in his wake.

“Right? I nearly peed myself a couple of times. You saved my ass on that bridge. And you go to live out one of your fantasies.  You got me to be your wife for a few minutes.”

“I would have preferred a few minutes of something else, if you know what I mean.”

“Well you’ll have to keep dreaming about THAT. I’m a one man woman. You’ll have to live vicariously through him.”

“Lucky bastard,” Koen grumbles.

“He knows it too. But I’m pretty lucky myself. That’s something I should probably tell him more often. Even hard asses  probably like to feel appreciated once in a while.”

“You ask me, you SHOW him how much you appreciate him.”

She smiles at that.

“So that was him? The guy on that bridge. That was Farhad?”

“Yeah,” Esme nods. “That was him. The little prick that shot Tyler in the neck. From behind. A total bitch move.”

“He looks like a little bitch.”

“That kid almost took everything from me before it even started. He’s the reason I can’t let go of that place. The things I saw, the things I had to do? That’s all because of that fucking kid. And I can’t forgive him and I can’t move on; I can’t leave the place behind if he’s still here. I just can’t. What if Tyler did die that day? I would have gone home and found out about Millie and I would have gone through it all by myself.   She never would have known her dad. I wouldn’t even have had a picture to show her. All that I would have had was those five days in Dhaka. Those memories of it. That’s it.”

“But he DIDN'T die,” Koen points out. “He made it. Because of you. If you hadn’t stepped up and put your ass on the line…”

“Don’t do that,” she begs. “Don’t put me on a pedestal. I did what I had to do because I felt he deserved to live. And because selfishly, I wanted more time with him. But I don’t deserve praise and I don’t deserve praise for doing something anyone would have done.”

“Not anyone would have done it and you know that. You saved him. And not just on that bridge, either.”

“I just don’t feel comfortable with it; people thanking me and praising me and thinking so highly of me. Tyler deserved to live and that’s why I did it.  Because he’d more than made up for the mistakes he’d made and he deserved another chance.”

“And not everybody would see it that way, either. Would see HIM that way.”

“Well I saw him that way. I’ll always see him that way. And that’s why I want revenge. For him.”

“You want the  kid to die?”

Esme nods. “And if that makes me a bad person, so be it. But it’ll give me peace. I’ll finally be able to let go of this place. I NEED to let go of it.”

“I’ll do it,” Koen offers. “I’ll take care of the kid. For Tyler. For you.”

“You’d do that? For us?”

“Yeah,” he says. “I would.”

[batfamily--headcanons]

Advice for Finishing University Work Right Now

This obviously isn’t Batfam related, but given the situation the world is in right now and that this is where I have the biggest platform (still can’t quite wrap my head around seeing that 5000 number), I’m posting it here.

If you’re like me, you’ve been forced to complete your school year online (this is advice from a university student in regards to my classes, but it could totally apply to high school work too) and working from home during a pandemic is not the easiest thing in the world as we’ve all learned. So here’s how I’ve been coping and what I’ve figured out since I started online classes.

1. It really doesn’t matter what you wear. I’m seeing all these people saying to get dressed like you’re actually going to school and that does not matter. For some people, that works, but I used to do all my assignments in my dorm in my pajamas long before this happened. Although, it might help to take a shower and put on some clean PJs, but you don’t need to dress up for this.

2.Don’t beat yourself up for not being as productive as you usually are. We’re in the middle of a fucking pandemic and that shit is traumatizing. Even if you feel fine, studies have shown that this amount of stress makes your brain work differently. So, it’s not your fault and you shouldn’t feel guilty about it. 

3. Find a place to work that works for you. Because I had to move out of the dorms, I’m now back home at my parents’ house and the thing I miss the most is my desk. My big, beautiful desk. It was L shaped and took up almost the entire back wall so there was plenty of room for my laptop, my books, my printer, and a few snacks. I don’t have that at home. We have two desks and neither of them is wide enough to fit both my computer and my textbook. I’ve had to get creative and I turned my couch into a makeshift desk while I sat in my moon chair with a lap desk. They say not to work in bed, but if your bedroom is the only place quiet enough to study in right now, use it. 

4. If it doesn’t distract you, crank up the music when studying. Personally, the only way that I can concentrate is when I have the music as loud as it can go and I’m singing along. It makes working a little less boring. I’ve created an entire playlist just for this and it’s full of the most upbeat songs that I know the best so that I don’t even have to think of the lyrics when singing. Music is a great stress-reliever and it can help your mind from wandering and thinking about the reason that you now have to work from home.

5. Procrastination is going to happen. Just because many of us have nothing but time, it doesn’t mean that we’re able to use it to work. Like I said, this shit is traumatizing and stressful. Every day, the prime minister of my country does a press conference and I watch it every day and in the hours after watching it, I don’t do anything. Some days, you are going to feel terrible and on those days, don’t try to work. Some days, you’ll feel more alert and like yourself again. Spend those days enjoying it and getting some work done too, but not so much that it ruins your mood.

6. If you don’t feel like doing the actual assignment but feel like doing something, go through your notes/course material and highlight/make notes on what you’re going to do your assignment on. For example, I’m doing a paper for my poetry class and yesterday I wasn’t feeling up to writing so I highlighted quotes from the poems that I can use as evidence to back up my thesis. I also found an academic article to use as a source for my paper as well. It’s helped tremendously because now I know my topic and have the evidence right here in front of me so all I have to do is write without interrupting myself to find one of those things.

7. Take breaks!!!! I have never in my life taken a break from working on an assignment unless it was to eat and even then, I forget to do so a lot. However, ever since I’ve been home, I cannot work for hours straight with no break. That’s partly because I don’t have a proper area to study in and partly because my brain is preoccupied with my constant anxiety and fear. Also, when you are literally in pain from looking down at screen or from being hunched over a book for hours at a time, take a break. Don’t “power through” because you have to do this. Being in pain mentally or physically is a reason to stop. 

8. No amount of study tips will get you motivated if you are not in a good place mentally so stop torturing yourself by scrolling through them on tumblr and feeling like shit about yourself because you aren’t as productive as everyone you see online. I say this from personal experience. Plus most of these study tips I see going around are way too fake and overly optimistic for my tastes. That’s why I wrote these down, because they’re honest and they’re real. They view this situation as a goddamn vacation when in reality, it’s a tragedy. A shower and a change of clothes is not going to fix your life, especially now. You not being productive right now isn’t laziness or lack of motivation, it’s because of your mental health.

Hope this helps in some way. I’m just doing the best I can under the circumstances and it’s taken me a while to come to terms with the fact that this isn’t lack of motivation and to stop blaming myself for not getting anything done. Stay safe, everyone!

[mydeardeath]

To belong with (6/8)

Whole series on tumblr (to belong series tag) or AO3

---

At first, it had seemed to be a good idea. Take Tim with him to do groceries shopping. Let him pick whatever he wanted, what he had missed. But seeing Tim pull another bag of candy into the cart made him regret his decisions. Part of him hoped that this wasn't what Tim usually ate, that he was just going for that junk because he had lacked food when he was... away. But Damian suspected that it was just what the other considered food. He was quite appalled. He knew that Tim wasn't the best cook. But that! Damian was quite horrified. Good thing that Tim had him now.

Damian had to restrain himself for throwing it all. Who could have imagined that courting would be so hard? Maybe he should invite Bart too. He was Tim's friend as well and a speedster. He would make all this junk disappear in a matter of seconds then he would show Tim what real meals were like and how amazing he was at making them. Damian pulled out his phone to tape a quick text to Conner, one eye still on Tim. He was still so scared of losing him. His heart had jumped in his chest when he had lost sight of him earlier. Tim hadn't been far, just in the next aisle. But still, Damian preferred to have him where he could see as much as possible. Tim had been taken away from him once. It could happen again. For all he knew, the ones that had taken Tim in the first place might want him back. There was no certainty that Tim was safe, that they would leave him alone. And Damian wasn't going to let that happen again.

He quickly caught up to Tim, receiving a little smile when he asked if he wanted anything else or if he was ready to leave. Tim was oblivious to Damian's feeling, his fear of having Tim disappear once again. He was just enjoying being back in Gotham. Being free after all this time. Because even if it had not been years but weeks for Tim, it was still a long time being prisoner.

***

Preparing lunch didn't take long considering there wasn't much cooking to do. It was good working in tandem with Tim even for such a simple, domestic task.  That not something Damian had imagined he would be doing. He had shared a few nights with other people. Nameless people, he knew nothing of. He had not cared to create a romantic connection with anyone. It was kind of illogical. He had loved Tim, but they had never been together. Most people had seen his feelings for Tim as a simple crush, then they had seen it as an unhealthy obsession. And maybe they had been right. He had been a kid back then. He had started to spend time with Tim had the end, had started to know him. But that wasn't enough to form a true relationship. He could admit to himself that he had been born on a childish caprice. Thing is, Damian never had closure. He was given hope that one day he would have the chance to prove himself worthy of Tim's attention. Maybe, in the end, Tim wouldn't have been able to return his love. Maybe Damian would have grown out of his infatuation for the Omega. There was no way of knowing what might have happened. Damian never got his opportunity. All he could do was wonder "what if?". That thought had held him back for years. Now he would get his chance. He would take his chance with Tim. Whether or not he would be successful didn't matter. Well, it did matter a bit. But Damian could accept not getting him if that choice was theirs and not the outcome of outside forces.

For Tim to make a choice about their future, he first needed to get his life back. Damian didn't want to share his return with the family quite yet. He was still mad at them. It didn't stop him from knowing that it needed to happen. He couldn't keep Tim locked up in their apartment. Of course, Tim would end up attracted by Damian if it was only the two of them. Whatever had happened to Tim had been traumatizing. Damian had been the first familiar face he had seen in weeks, the first safe place he had found. If he kept Tim away from the other, the Omega would become dependant of him. No matter how much he desired him, that wasn't the way he wanted to get him.

He was informed of Tim's friends arrival just a minute before they were at the door. He had put a satellite in place to inform him of their movement. Tim was excited to see them. They were his friends after all, but Damian could tell that he was also anxious. He had preferred being warned in advance and not have them suddenly banging on the door.

Tim's hands had started trembling when Damian had told him they were almost here. The youngest Robin had taken them into his own, gently squeezing his hands to make him understand that he was here for him.

"I will get it" Damian let go of Tim when the doorbell rang, maintaining eye contact as long as possible before turning to his guests.

Kon was here with Bart as well as Cassie. Damian hadn't thought of inviting her. He hadn't wanted to crowd Tim with multiple people from the start. The invitation to Bart was solely for the junk food that needed to disappear. He should have guessed that it would have been hard to have the two of them without her tagging along. Not that he minded her company, he just hoped that it wouldn't feel overwhelming to Tim. Maybe that would prepare him for their family.

"Damian", they saluted him, "so why did you needed us here?"

"I don't need you. He does." Damian made a vague motion behind him even if they could not see Tim from the threshold.

Conner was confused. He had not expected anyone else to be here. Damian didn't hang out with that many people. He had made some friends within the Titans but most of the time he was the one that came to see them. When he was in Gotham, he was either alone or with his family. Kon didn't imagine that Batman was waiting in the living room. Damian would have rather went to the manor than invite him over. It was way too calm for Dick and his daughter to be here. But there was someone here. Now that Damian had said that he wasn't alone, Kon could clearly hear another heartbeat not far away. One that seemed oddly familiar. One that brought back memories from years ago.

Kon rushed past Damian without a word, leaving his flabbergasted friends in his wake. In less than a second, Kon stood before Tim. Or someone that looked exactly like him at least. But it couldn't be. Tim was dead.

Kon knew that Tim had tried to clone him when he had died. Maybe he had kept trace of his works and Damian had found them. Kon knew what Tim had meant to Damian. The youngest Robin had never seemed to grow past his lost. He had never heard of him dating. Yes, he had a few flings. But one night stands weren't close to a relationship. Maybe Damian had broken down and decided to create a new Tim.

But as he was thinking about that, some part of him couldn't shake the feeling that this was the real Tim. He knew one or two things about clones. He had learned to recognize them. One of the easiest ways was listening to the heartbeat. That not something you could simply replicate. You could learn, but it was a long process. And, unless Damian had records about the rhythm of Tim's heartbeats, he would not have been able to get it right just by pure luck.

They were used to people coming back to life. Him. Bart. Damian. But six years was a long time. And the man before him didn't look older than the last time he had seen him. He had not been raised from the dead and waited years to return to Gotham.

Yet, somehow, this was Tim standing before him.

Kon didn't waste another second before pulling him into a bone-crushing hug.

"I may be civil to you now, Superboy, but if you hurt him when he has just come back to me, I will make you chock on kryptonite."

Kon released a bit of the pressure he had put on Tim, apologizing quietly to his friend.

"What the fuck?" Cassie nearly yelled. She and Bart had been following Damian into the room. They hadn't been able to get a clear look on who Kon was hugging, the other person almost disappearing under Kon's form.

They hadn't known why Damian had asked for them. Kon's reaction had raised even more questions. They hadn't known what to expect. But Tim wouldn't have been their first idea. Nor the tenth.

Bart and Cassie hadn't been exactly enthused to answer Damian's invitation. Yes, he was somehow civil now, but he had yet to be anything close to friendly to them. They were glad that Kon had convinced them to come. This was the best surprise they had had in forever!

For a long time, none of them said anything, simply joining in the hug while Damian watched from a few feet away. Bart was the first to pull away.

"Have you always been this short? I don't remember you being that much tiny. But I was shorter back then. Probably why I didn't notice. Wow, and look at this babyface. You are so cute. How come I never noticed you were so cute." Bart was gushing, even attempting to pinch Tim's cheeks.

"I am not cute" Tim spluttered, offended. He had always been one of the shortest in the family. He was roughly the same size as Cass and taller than Damian. But Damian had been 12 years old, so he hadn't meant much. It was expected that Damian would grow but Tim had thought he would too. He knew he would never have the same bulk that Bruce and Jason had, but he could have hope for a late growth spurt. Seemed like Bart had had one. Cassie too, even if on a smaller scale. They had all been teens the last time he had seen them. While he was still one, his friends had grown into adults. He had missed so much.

"Hey, are you okay Tim?" Cassie asked him gently.

"Yeah. I'm happy to see you guys." He smiled faintly. He couldn't quite hide his sadness. He should have aged with his friend. Experience the start of adulthood with them. How many things had he missed in their lives? They would probably tell him everything but he would never get to experience them, and that hurt.

"Ow, Tim. We are so happy to have you back." Cassie smiled at him.

"Yeah, especially if you want back in the team. Imagine, with his adorableness, villains will stop fighting right away. Make our jobs easier." Bart joked.

Tim gripped his arm and threw him on the grounds.

"I see why you would need an easier job, you're getting slow kid flash." Tim teased him, earning laughs from his former team and a proud smile from Damian. He may not have returned at his highest form, but he could still kick some ass.

[giogio-gucci-gangstar]

A Golden Christmas

This started out as a totally different story about Bruno and Abbacchio loving bets on Abbacchios black out adventures, but turned into something way softer. So, here’s my favorite boys being boys but at Christmas

Libeccio’s was empty this Christmas Eve. Well, empty excluding all of the excessive decorations and a group of six Passione men.

The evening had demure beginnings. Bruno had wanted to throw his team a little party to show how thankful he was for each of them, and to give them some time to relax after some stressful weeks. Bruno had arrived early to set up with Giorno, whos Golden Experience had exquisite taste in garlands, flowers, bushes, berries and trees. He also made sure to sprinkle in some mistletoe over precarious areas like doorways, and above a certain seat at their usual table. But that would have to wait for later.

Abbacchio had been in charge of the alcohol, and he did not skimp on anything. There were several bottles of expensive champagne, he didn’t believe in being cheap, and had even brought some of his homemade mulled wine. He set the case down with a huff in front of Bruno before plopping down next to him already sipping on a bottle of his own.

Before Bruno could so much as offer him a proper glass, Narancia and Fugo burst through the door. Bickering as always.

“But Fugooooo karaoke is so much fun!!!”

“Its not part of our traditions. What would we even sing at a christmas party?”

“Uhh because its fun? Plus this year is different, we now have Giorno.”

“And I wish we didn’t.” So this was what finally elicited a response from Leone, Bruno thought to himself.

“That was a brilliant idea Narancia. It will be fun. Here let me help you set it up.” Bruno noticed Leone was already a little flushed as he scooted by him to go help Narancia set up the machine.

Fugo set down a plater of elaborately decorated cookies on the table in front of Abbacchio and helped himself to some mulled wine as he took in the decorations. It made the restaurant look like a secluded glen in some sort of Scandinavian forest. He spared a peek at Narancia using a cooking knife to hack through some bushes in search of an outlet, until bruno finally pulled him aside and gestured to Sticky Fingers making a clean cut through the vines to the wall.

Fugo smirked to himself as he saw Narancia’s face light up and ecstatically throw his arms around Bruno. Fugo looked around the room again and noticed that while he had clearly been here earlier to set up, Giorno was nowhere to be seen.

Then there it was, the tell tale sign of Mista, six little screaming voices sounded from the alley. Mista burst through the door with his usual enthusiasm for food, Giorno close behind unable to contain his laughter at Mista’s new hat. It seemed the boy had traded out his usual cap for a Santa hat, which the pistols had conveniently nestled themselves in.

“Heyyyyy!” Mista greeted his friends with open arms as he stepped into the beautifully decorated restaurant.

“Whoa there’s so many plants!” as he turned around in awe, causing Giorno to beam at his slight victory.

“Ah you like them?” He asked hopefully.

“Yeah but, like what are they?” Mista looked confused at some garlands, poking at some mistletoe strategically hanging from the ceiling and over doorways. Giorno realized this was going to be a lot more difficult than he anticipated.

Quickly distracted by seeing the rest of the gang, Mista called out to Abbacchio, “Oh! I'm your secret santa!” gesturing to his themed hat while pulling out a small red bag.

“Ugh Mista that's not how its supposed to work! It’s called secret for a reason!” Fugo started to fume, upset that his little part of the night had been ruined so quickly.

Abbacchio strolled over to Mista, shaking the bag slightly, scrunching up his face slightly when he heard the clanging of glass.

“Go on open it!” Mista beamed. He was very proud of his gift.

Abbacchio cautiously tore apart the haphazardly stapled paper bag. His frown slowly turned into an approving nod, “Are these dozens of little liquor bottles?”

“Yeah, shots or samples as my Nonna calls them. Come on let’s open some up!”

Abbacchio eagerly obliged, pulling out some little bottles of whisky, vodka, tequila, limoncello, and rum. Mista, grinning like a madman, helped him line them up before taking one for himself and opening one for Abbacchio.

Had he not already been fairly tipsy Abbacchio told himself he would have been more annoyed that Mista assumed he could partake in his gift. But he was also never one to turn down a drink, so the boys linked arms and downed the first small bottle of the night.

Mista’s face flushed and he coughed a bit from the burn, but the real shock was when Abbacchio’s cold demeanor melted as he laughed at the younger boy not being able to keep a straight face. “Come here, let me show you a trick,” and he guided Mista back to the table with a handful of the bottles.

“GUYS!” There was a screech as Narancia ecstatically jumped up and down and pointed to Bruno turning on the karaoke machine. In this moment Narancia would have preferred all attention be turned to him, but Mista and Abbaacchio were still doing shots in rapid succession, Bruno was trying to preemptively calm down Fugo, and Giorno was staring off into the distance with a glazed look on his face. Yes! Narancia thought to himself Giorno is the easiest target!

With the giggle the orange boy leaped across the room and nearly pounced on Giorno, quickly knocking him out of his reverie.

“GIORNO! SING WITH ME!” Giorno’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head as he was snapped out of his little day dream.

“Come on, let's sing a song! I know just the one!!” Narancia slowly climbed off Giorno, who was still trying to come to grips on reality, and started slowly pulling him to the karaoke machine.

Narancia pulled Giorno into a conspiratory huddle in front of the machine. There were lots of absurd hand gestures coming from the boy in orange, a few flew a little too wide and collided with Giorno. This continued for a few minutes until Giorno grabbed Narancia’s hands and said “OKAY im ready lets just do this-”

“BUT THE BIRDS”

“Its all under control. Trust me” Girono gritted his teeth as he made his way to the karaoke machine to turn on Narancia’s selected song. Maybe he could swing this in his favor, it could be an opportunity to show off a little for a special someone…

The first few bars of “Twelve Days of Christmas” start playing and Narancia, the sweet little orange boy, tries his best to read the words of the small screen, but gets bored and ends up dropping his microphone on the floor and walking away.

They hadn't even made it through the first chorus of the song but Giorno was not surprised in the slightest. He had figured Narancia would get bored so from the dropped microphone he made a partridge and then from a fork on the floor, a pear tree.

He looked at his friends sitting at the table across from him but no one was paying him any attention. Well, no one who’s attention he wanted.

“NO ONE WANTS TO SEE THIS” Abbacchio yells at the small blonde boy, nearly spilling his third? Fourth? Bottle of champagne as he stood up in what could only be described as a drunken demand for the microphone.

Giorno tossed him the microphone as he slunk back to his seat next to Mista, a little disappointed and embarrassed that his attempt to show off had been so quickly shot down.

“Narancia, kindly put on some real music” he spits, still managing to glare at Giorno as he made his way to the karaoke machine.

Abbacchio swings the microphone in his hands as the tell tale synthesizer of a Wham! song starts. Slowly, as the bass faded in, Abba started to move his hips to the beat. He swayed for a few seconds with his eyes closed, then his mouth opened and a voice of deep velvet poured out.

Everyone was shocked, even Mista stopped “sampling” his gift to Abbacchio. But Bruno was easily the most entranced.

“Once bitten, twice shy, I keep my distance but you still catch my eye” at those lines he opened his eyes, only allowing them to meet Bruno’s. A deep blush spread across his Capo’s cheeks and down his chest, where Abbacchio’s eyes followed.

“But if you kissed me now, I know you’d fool me again”

With that, Abbacchio strode over to Bruno and pulled him up from his chair to dance with him. Abbacchio didn’t break eye contact the whole time he danced, slowly pulling him closer, grinding his hips on him while he continued his serenade. When Bruno laced his fingers around Abbacchios neck and laid his head on his chest as they swayed, Fugo turned to the rest of the boys who seemed equally distressed.

“It would appear they are… having a moment? Maybe we should…” And he lifted his eyebrows to the door. “God Dammit not again” Narancia pouted when he realized Fugo was suggesting leaving the room with all the cookies and groaned as he followed him out of the room.

Giorno was already out of his chair, eager to give Bruno and Abba their much deserved alone time, which may or may not have been part of Bruno and Giorno’s scheme earlier in the evening. But Mista wasn't moving. His bottom was glued to the chair as he stared slack jawed with horror as he couldn't tear his eyes off his Capo getting more and more into the music, eventually planting a large kiss on Abbachio’s lips.

“Come ON” and with a yank on his sleeve, Mista tumbled out of his chair, shuffling into the other room after Giorno.

This was his chance, Giorno thought to himself. He pulled a stunned Mista to his feet under one of the many boughs of mistletoe he had hung around the restaurant for exactly this purpose.

“Ahem” Giorno shuffled his feet and darted his eyes between Mista and the mistletoe above them.

“Wha?” Mista scrunched his face, still unable to process his surroundings after what he would later describe as a ‘traumatizing experience’.

“Mista… The mistletoe?” Giorno pointed to the artistically draped bough above them.

“Cool?” Mista replied, still not quite grasping the significance of the plant above him.

“Mista,” Girono tried his best not rub the palm of his hand into his eyes, “its tradition that when two people stand under the mistletoe-”

“MISTLETOE???” Giorno’s little speech was cut short by the materialization of the Sex Pistols. Six little voices all chiming in over the other, flew up to the mistletoe above the boys.

“Guys!! This stuff tastes GOOD!” Exclaimed number 2. Immediately all of the pistols were stuffing their faces with the green leaves.

“Mistaaaaa these don't taste so good! They hurt my tongue!!” Cried number 5.

“Uh then don't eat anymore?” Replied the still very confused gunslinger.

“But i'm so hungryyyyy” whined the small pistol.

“I don’t know what to tell ya. All the food is in the other room and its more than a little occupied at the moment. Right?” He looked to his side expecting a response from Giorno but the blond boy just stood there, mistletoe sprouting from his little donut curls

“Whaa-” Mista was flabbergasted just staring at Giorno as a small smile crept across his face. But then, the Pistols noticed.

“GIORNO MADE MORE”

“YUMMY”

“GIVE ME A BITE”

“NUMBER SEVEN STOP AND SHARE”

With a flurry of pushing and shoving the pistols clambered over each other fighting to the best seat in Giorno’s hair to eat the mistletoe.

Girono’s faint smile gave way to honest laughter as he felt the little pistols tickle his head and eat the mistletoe he put there for them. He nearly doubled over laughing at their little reactions, but he didn’t want to disrupt them.

Mista on the other hand, blushed profusely, and was having a difficult time controlling his stand.

“Hey! Guyssss stop messing with Giorno! You’re going to ruin is hair!!” He whined to his Pistols, afraid to physically pull them out and cause more damage.

Giorno grinned, “I don’t mind, they’re rather cute.”

[kdtheghostwriter]

Building A Better Protagonist

Yes, predictable I know. But it’s me after all. You should have expected no less. Jokes to the side, though, this fella is in the upper crust of main characters. Certainly of the main characters named ‘Jack.’

A good protagonist is the fuel of any narrative. A bit obvious when broken down like that but many do forget. The audience is more or less stuck with this character for the duration of the story - in some cases for years - so it’s important to give them a good reason to follow along.

There are several ways to do this. The most practiced and effective method is with a dynamic character arc that moves the protagonist both physically and tonally. The wider the arc, the more interesting the story (with other variables added of course).

I almost wrote a similar piece about Kylo Ren, but I don’t feel like tempting Stan Twitter today, so I’ll stick to more familiar waters.

Even in a fictional world, the first impression has to count. It’s different in this context because in real life, someone’s initial opinion of a person is often enough to shape their view of them going forward. When crafting a narrative, one has the advantage of steering that opinion, even changing it from scene to scene.

When we first see Jack, our impression of him is that of every Devil May Care action hero of the era. He’s a mile in the air, about to cross into hostile airspace, and is openly smoking a cigar with minutes left until his base jump. Further on, we get a close up of his shit-eating grin as he spots beehive hanging above an enemy soldier. Functionally, this is just the game directing you toward the easiest way to clear a path without engaging in combat. On top of that we get to see how different this Snake is from the established series protagonist, Solid Snake.

Naked Snake: Slapstick Comedy Enthusiast

Fast forward a bit (past the superhero landing and intro card) and we see something different entirely. Jack is speaking with his mentor for the first time in five years and his demeanor changes. No longer confident and aloof, he is pensive and anxious. Annoyed at the woman known as The Boss for leaving without a proper goodbye. We don’t know who this person is but we know what affect she has on our protagonist. Put a pin by this point.

 Jack’s mission is to retrieve a Russian scientist who defected to the States but was transferred back GBA style after the Bay of Pigs. You see, because Jack is a CIA agent during the Cold War. He is devoted completely to the cause of the US Government - observing his directive without protest. This is where his thematic journey starts, so to speak.

The Boss warns him that the Mission is all that matters in war. Your comrades today could be your enemies tomorrow [foreshadowing!!] so it really isn’t worth it getting attached to anyone in the field of battle. This is Jack’s first lesson and the first obstacle he must overcome as his teacher defects to Russia and throws him into a ravine.

(Quick aside here as this piece is about Big Boss and not The Joy and while I think her character is fascinating and complex in equal measure, it would also require another essay entirely. So, quick notes here. She didn’t actually defect. She was a double agent deep undercover trying to intercept a nuclear weapon. The mission went sideways so she had to defect for real to save her cover.)

This is a clear turning point, both in the story and in the character. The warning of The Boss has come true. Your beloved mentor is now the antagonist. Literally the Final Boss: the last person you fight on your journey. Jack spends much of the runtime processing this. He is also told by multiple people on his path (including Ocelot, a triple agent working for your CO) in basic layman’s terms that he has to kill The Boss. She’s an enemy of the State and directly opposes his objective. The bulk of the game is Jack building up the nerve to do this.

We’re a long way removed from the guy smiling and cracking one-liners. Over the course of the story we see him traverse the aforementioned arc. It’s more than just the superficial journey of Point A to Point B. We see Jack move emotionally, becoming more cynical and unsure of his mission. He physically changes, too. Losing an eye halfway through, he spends the rest of the game in the eyepatch he would later become famous for.

Movement of any sort is inherently dynamic. It’s well enough to simply have a character move from one end to another. To add texture to the narrative, though, there should be questions. How long will this journey take your protagonist? Where will it take them? Is the end of their arc the end of the story? Will the journey change them? If it doesn’t, why not? How will the other characters react to them? These are all minor things that add up over time as the audience keeps track of the different moving parts. In this example, it’s important to remember that Snake Eater was the third numbered installment in the Metal Gear franchise. Essentially, a look back in time to see the first steps of Big Boss and his descent from war hero to series villain. To do that, we have to ask questions.

Why did The Boss betray Jack and why does he care? As mentioned before, she had a mission that was compromised. As a double agent in enemy territory, there was no backup to speak of for her. In order to protect the US Government from being implicated in this very covert, very illegal operation she was forced to take the fall as an international terrorist and this is not even the saddest part of this story.

Jack is understandably distraught by this because in addition to being his mentor, it is heavily implied the two lived together for some time. His feelings for her are complicated, but they are obviously quite strong. Once it becomes clear what he has to do, his psyche begins to falter.

How does this change him? To answer that, we get to the real saddest part of this story. The Boss is true to her word from the beginning of the story. Devoted to the mission until the end. She tells the story of her child being born on the battlefield in WWII. She is still a US soldier, but in spirit only. In the interest of avoiding an international catastrophe, The Boss becomes a Russian asset and to make the Heel Turn more convincing, her best student is the one sent to stop her.

In killing her, Naked Snake becomes Big Boss and is so traumatized by the experience, he leaves the Green Berets, goes AWOL in South America and attempts to found a nation-state composed solely of mercenaries. But that’s another game entirely. I don’t need to say this, but Snake is fucked up for life by this. The naïve, bright-eyed soldier we start the game with is crushed by the system he swore to protect and it turns him against it full stop. Big Boss spends the rest of his life warring against it.

 Recall if you will what I said about “steering” opinion. We are sympathetic to Snake because we identify the shock and hurt of the betrayal; we want to follow him to victory because of his personal charisma. Then we discover the truth. Worse still, we see the truth through his eyes. That is, the eyes of someone who remembers the exact day they lost contact with their loved one. Five years separated from your favorite person, and you’re reunited in order to end their life. The Boss is no longer the mean woman that tried to kill you in the Act One finale. She’s a tragic figure, specifically because of how we view her through the lens of our main character.

It’s such a powerful weapon in prose. And so, it never fails to astound me to see paid professionals – people in charge of multi-million-dollar franchises – do little or even nothing to exploit this totally free, always effective method of storytelling.

 “This is the main character! Clap for them!”

“They’re not doing anything.”

“Clap pls!”

“They haven’t even said anything interesting.”

“They’re tall and have a chiseled jawline! That is worth one clap!”

 As the kids would say, make it make sense.

[snowtimeisbesttime]

Thoughts and questions on Volume 9, routes 1 and 2! (a day late orz.)

-The entire volume in a picture: that one crying cat that's white and Screming. Both with and without heart emojis, as there's both happystuck and sadstuck here.

~ROUTE 1~

-Nepeta, canonically: :33c

-MC's just doing friendship stuffs because they don't have anything else to do now... Recovering their Friendsim memories AND discovering they can't get to their old friends anymore's really put a damper on their mood, at least here.

-No matter the universe or game you come from, cat rps are forever.

-just like jade, sgrub would have allowed nepeta to finally meet her friends in person........

-Nep stims with her claw gloves and doesn't really do the whole eye contact thing. She also clearly values not being lied to, as seen in how many times she asks MC if they really know Equius; I'm not sure if that Need to be Completely Sure of what people are telling her is because she has been hurt before*, but if it is I'm going to be very :,((( and also DDD:<

*like how rejection sensitive dysphoria is an adhd thing but Also is kinda because of trauma?? anyways. in this house we stan nepeta leijon and would lay down our lives for her.

-UM those dreams of Nepeta's sure sound like dreambubbles... and the easiest way to access the dreambubbles (besides physically going to the Furthest Ring) is going to sleep without a dreamself... so what's up with Dream Nepeta??? is she alright???? and if not then Why would she specifically get offed???

-Regarding Nep's not seeing the MC in her dreams: until very recently, all of their alternate selves were hovering around alpha MC, and then they were absorbed into them. That might be a thing to consider??

-We get a brand-new Narratively Unimportant Trait: Nepeta used to live in a normal hive until it -and likely also her neighbourhood- was apparently destroyed by drones or something for who knows why, and that's the reason she now lives in a cave in the middle of nowhere. She doesn't clearly remember this event, probably because she was very, very young (and she's 13 here) and because it was extremely traumatic. And she almost certainly hasn't had any face to face interaction with another troll since then... no wonder Pounce's so purrotective of her.

-(how'd she get things like wifi or sopor slime for her cave?)

-Nepeta managed to escape certain death by fleeing to the wastes, but where does Polypa live in Friendsim's present time? I might be wrong but iirc she does not live with Tegiri...? then again, Nep still has her lusus.

-newsflash: alternia is suck

-MEOWRAILS REUNION!!!!!! fimally.... (though wouldn't equius have told nepeta about the mc??)

-In her group end, she gets to befriend Jade and Dave even if she doesn't meet Equius irl, and they bond over their respective fursonas.

-Why does Nepeta have Two Good Ends? Because she deserves it (and because her bad end is very sad).

-MC's powers sure are growing, if they're able to teleport people without touching them and also overpower Bec. Not that they're of use in Nep's bad end, where Dave and Jade just. Dissolve into alternia or something.

-On the topic of Narratively Unimportant Traits again: remember how screwed up Dave's and Jade's respective upbringings were??? Here's a reminder!! He just holds MC's guts in place when they take Pounce's attack (and outright says he's got experience with that kind of wounds); meanwhile she sews them up- it's the first time she sews up something that isn't a corpse. And both of them had to get their medicine from... unusual sources, to say the least.

-nepeta went to get some leaves, to heal mc

~ROUTE 2~

-One'd expect the MC to know about Sollux at least, considering what went down in Karkat's routes... unless they don't have access to their memories of Pesterquest's bad ends?

-They heard about him enough to get incredibly hyped up about befriending him, though! And by “incredibly” I mean Please Chill A Little.

-Where in Nepeta's route they were just sad and really bummed out, here MC is convinced that there's another mastermind using them and their friendship quests for who knows what nefarious purposes; they also ponder what else they might have forgotten. Considering we did many stuffs to Pesterquest's reality in Aradia's route, who is it with the Evil Plans this time???

-how does gamzee even have a driving license / access to a (clown) car?????????

-Of course Sollux picks the bee-themed train. How many other Bug Themes might Alternian trains have? Because there's a lot of fancy and funky bugs... many butterflies, ladybugs, orchid mantises...

-mc's phone confirmed to be 1) still alive and 2) a troll nokia or something

-According to Sollux, MC's been messaging him non-stop for the last few days?? We don't get any confirmation on this happening, but we know that Sollux can actively perceive MC's narration- just as he could perceive CD's commands back in Homestuck. (Dave, who can also hear the narration, had something similar with AR; Terezi and Rose also perceived their exiles' commands, but the only one to also have Weird Meta Shit in Pesterquest was Rose.)

-Remember when we though Karkat was stranded on Earth on his good end? Well it looks like Sollux's the one actually stranded, in his bad end! Hope either MC'd get him back home eventually or he found somewhere safe to camp....... though it's a bad end so we'll have to wait and see if it's referenced later on.

-Sollux is understandably still upset about being used by Vriska to kill Aradia, which we know happened about a sweep ago. No but really, what's up with PQ!Aradia?? Why did she just disappear?

-He's also understandably freaked out about the whole “finding out a random troll whose voice he heard (= is going to die soon) is in the same bee-themed train compartment as him” thing; did MC's mere presence avert that possible bad future, or what?

-We get confirmation that Sollux's psionics are stronger than Azdaja's and Kuprum's, though we pretty much knew this already. More like it's further established that stronger psionics equals smoother movement.

-what's that, gamzee didn't completely break all the laws of physics* when he got out of the cloun car? fear not- sollux's going to take care of that with his powers! (*he did cronch all his bones though)

-Sollux and Kanaya are friends! Though (iirc) they didn't really interact that much in Homestuck, they were close enough to go through what sounds like some sort of aesthetically recognizable phase together... and whatever it was, we're sure as hell not finding out. At least in this timeline, Kanaya introduced Feferi to Sollux.

-solluxander is canon btw

-There is some extra worldbuilding about psionics, which basically amounts to “if you overuse them you'll perish” (which we also knew already) but like, with chemistry stuffs. Considering our Friendsim psionics, age almost surely affects a troll's ability to not keel over after using their powers too much...

[novaimpactgenerator-blog]

NSFW Fem!Human Headcanons Request

For ASimpleArchivist on AO3

Request: General NSFW headcanons with Ratchet, Rodimus, Drift, Megatron and Minimus for a fem!human SO pretty please? Maybe with a list of their kinks, too? I love what you have so far and I can't wait to see what you add next!

Before we start I would like to point out that since it was not stated otherwise, the reader and bots below were already in relationships when this stuff happened.

Ratchet:

-The first time he ever saw you naked was for a physical in his hab suite. And boy did he get physical. That was also your first sexual experience with him. Though, there was no penetration due to size difference. That didn't stop you two from having a great time. And Ratchet learned that he really, really likes boobs.

-He implanted a mass displacement generator just to frag you. Though he still likes to be a little bigger than you when you two have sex. He's fascinated by the way your body can stretch to fit around him.

-Would rather overload inside of you so he can see you stretch and overflow with his transfluid.

-Can and will hold off overload for a long time just to watch you writhe under him or struggle when you try to ride him to overload. Doesn't really like to go through more than two overloads himself.

-Loves to fuck your boobs. Would be perfectly fine with you only allowing him to shove his spike between your tits for the rest of his life. "Cybertronians have nothing close to it, so they're new. Not to mention soft like the rest of you."

-Has fucked you in the medibay exactly twice. The first time wasn't planned, but so much fun you two decided to try again. The second time First Aid walked in, screamed, and immediately ran out. (No one has ever brought it up and no one ever will.) You two refused to do that again (much to First Aid's relief).

-(Poor traumatized First Aid)

-He loves to explore your body for new, sensitive places to play with while he thrusts into you or you ride him. If he can't find any after a while he defaults to assaulting your clit and nipples.

-If he's in a patient mood he will stimulate you for close to an hour to see just how wet you can get. If you are a virgin this is how he was for your actual first time. He literally made you cum so many times you cried and begged for his spike.

-Teases you with both his hands and mouth, but his hands are more precise so he uses them the most. Though he was very reluctant to even touch you after the whole Pharma incident.

-You dressed up as a slutty nurse once on a dare. "I'm not sure I got the right injection, Doctor." At first, you thought he was upset because of how quiet and still he was. Then a dark and sexy smirk spread across his faceplates. "Well, we can't have that, now can we?" (That was the first time he fucked you in the medibay.) It's a miracle no one came in or heard that. (And if someone did they spoke of it to no one.)

-He doesn't really like to leave marks on you. The fact that he can't just fix you makes him distraught and nervous. He was taught that most organics were fragile. ESPECIALLY humans.

-Will sometimes use his holomatter form to fuck you. Not very often though.

-He's very quiet but pretty expressive.

-Slow and hard.

-KINKS:

-Size difference

-Slight sadism

-Overstimulation

-Inflation? Inflation.

-Body worship

-Tit fucking

-Exploration??? (Is that a thing)

-Roleplay

-Public sex (for a whole 5 seconds) (thanks a lot First Aid)

Rodimus:

-His first time seeing you naked was because he didn't knock before he let himself into your hab suite. Was frozen on the spot. RODDY.EXE has stopped working. His first time ever seeing a human naked and he wasn't expecting it to be so... fucking hot. "Um... Can you leave?" "Uh huh..." "Now?" "Right."

-Went straight to First Aid after that to get a mass displacement generator. "Mass displacement generator. Now." "Why do you want one so suddenl-" "Won't fit." "... Won't... fit... where???" Rodimus was clearly still out of it.

-He's too impatient for foreplay that lasts longer than ten minutes. But if you're a virgin he tries his best to last as long as he can.

-Can hold off overload for a long time, but chooses not to. (Impatient remember?) Will instantly be hard again after overloading. Could literally fuck for hours. His frame was made for stamina and he doesn't exactly overheat. Has fucked you so many times you cried. Has fucked you so many time you passed out.

-Loves to leave marks. You're his woman, damn it! Everyone needs to know that. He's very possessive. Loves to bite the most. Everywhere. His favorite places to bite are shoulders, neck, hips, and thighs. Has accidentally left scars on your neck and thighs. He felt really bad about that. But he made up for it in kisses.

-Prefers overloading on you rather than in you. Mainly on your face. He really likes to make a mess out of you with his transfluid.

-LOVES to tease you. Mostly with his mouth. Could eat you out all day while self-servicing. You passed out the first day he learned how. Really loves it when you tease him too. His favorite thing is for you to suck his spike while you finger his valve. Drives him insane. Also loves when you trace his transformation seams and use your small hands to find hidden sensitive wires.

-THIGHS! If he isn't fucking your mouth or your pussy, then he's fucking your thighs.

-Has a thing for interfacing with you in places he can get caught. Like his office. Or an empty hallway. Minimus Ambus caught you two doing the latter. Rodimus overloaded instantly. Ultra Magnus arrested the two of you later for public indecency. He didn't learn his lesson. (Megatron walked into Rodimus' office while he was driving you into the desk from behind and quietly walked out. To this day neither of you know that.)

-(Poor traumatized Minimus)

-Will overload twice as fast when you give him compliments. He is a slut for verbal praise. Has begged for it before.

-Enjoys pet play. Both ways. But he prefers to be Master. (It makes him feel like he's in charge of something.) Also loves bondage and pain play. But only if he's receiving. He's too worried he'll hurt you to enjoy it.

-Will fuck you with his holomatter regularly but says it feels better with his real body.

-He is VERY loud (unless his mouth is preoccupied) and VERY expressive.

-Fast and hard.

-KINKS:

-Biting

-Thigh fucking

-Praise

-Overstimulation (Kinda. He just keeps going.)

-Public sex/Exhibitionism

-Marking

-Pet play

-Bondage

-Slight Dom/sub

-Masochism/Pain play

Drift:

-The first time he saw you naked was because he asked if he could touch you without your clothes on. All you two did that night was explore each other's bodies.

-Had a mass displacement generator installed before that. He knew that because of the difference in sizes that any kind of physical intimacy would be difficult without it. He went to Ratchet and explained. "Because I want to be able to be intimate with her, which is kinda hard when I'm three times her size." "I suppose it's better safe than sorry. Lay down."

-The first time you two fucked was VERY passionate. He lost all control. Went at you very fast and very rough with his head thrown back, optics rolled, and glossa out. "H-How could any-y one want hum-mans dead!? Frag! FragfragfragfrAGFRAG!!!" If you were a virgin, don't worry there was lots of foreplay before that so you were more than ready.

-Does enjoy biting you, but usually not very hard. Will occasionally leaving marks if he goes wild. Prefers to keep biting sensual rather than sexual.

-Would rather overload inside of you so he can watch his transfluid spill out of you, but he will often overload on you. If he does overload on you, then it's mainly on your stomach or tits.

-Loves to fondle you. In every sense of the word. Your boobs are the easiest target, (and he really enjoys that) but he will also grope your ass, your thighs, and your hips. The last three he'll subtly do in public if he's bored or just wants to tease you. Though this is the most he'll do in public.

-Is into knife play. But only running it along your skin and never breaking it. He cut you ONCE. He kept all sharp objects away from you for a whole month. The most pressure he'll put on the blade is just enough to leave a red line. His favorite places to tease you with a blade are your boobs, shoulders, hips, and thighs. If he really gets into it, he'll go over your neck, forearms, stomach, and the front of your groin.

-Is super into foreplay. Could go at you slowly for hours. His favorite kind of foreplay is just kissing, groping, and rubbing himself on you slowly. He will not allow you to cum until the main event though.

-Actually fucking you is MUCH different. He wants there to be satisfaction. Unbelievable amounts of satisfaction. And he wants it now.

-Is very careful when fraging you. He killed organics when he was Deadlock and knows how easy it would be to hurt you.

-You got angry with him once and insulted him (you can't remember what you said, but you do know it was something small). You thought it was odd that his face went from mad to nervous as it turned pink. As it turns out, he likes to be called names. Especially being called a slut while you tease his valve.

-Loves eating you out. Mainly when he's full size. He likes stretching you out with his tongue. You make the cutest faces and sounds.

-Doesn't like to interface with his holomatter. Says that it doesn't feel real. Something about his aura.

-He's not quiet, but he's not loud either. Very Expressive.

-Fast and soft

-KINKS:

-Knife play

-Masochism/Negging

-Orgasm denial

-Oral

-Body worship

-Teasing/Foreplay

-Biting

-Marking

Megatron:

-The first time he saw you naked was after you two talked about it for a while (two whole months). "You're... beautiful... I can't believe I ever wanted to eradicate organics."

-He already had a mass displacement generator, but even with it he's still a pretty big boy.

-Found out that he does, in fact, like the difference in size. You're so wet after foreplay that you stretch so nicely around his spike. He secretly loves that clearly see the outline of his spike while he's buried deep inside of you.

-Boobs are nice. Very nice. He can do so many things with boobs. Though he wasn't exactly sure what they were at first or what to do with them. But don't worry he's a fast learner. Very fast.

-He is very careful when interfacing with you. He's destroyed and helped destroy entire civilizations of organics. He wants to leave that life behind and would rather die before harming you. If you were a virgin he was extra careful and extra touchy.

-Could kiss you all night long. He has. You both intended to have sex but just fell asleep cuddling after making out for an hour.

-The most he'll do in public is frag you in his office. Mainly because he knows that no one besides Minimus/Magnus, Rodimus, or Ravage would come in unless the ship was on fire and he was the last one they could go to for help. But he always locks the doors so there no chance of being walked in on.

-On that note! Ravage. He was peacefully sleeping in Megatron's office with his stealth protocols on when you two casually walked in and started going at it. 'I don't wanna see this. I don't want to see thi-!' LOCKED. "Let me oooOOOOUUUUUT!!!"

-(Poor traumatized Ravage.)

-Likes to be restrained in the berth. It reassures him that he can't hurt you and it's kinda exciting. He was never been okay with being the one bound up before. Will occasionally like to try new things like this, but he still thinks he's too old to do some of the things he's heard Rodimus likes.

-Loves to be praised. His favorite is when you call him a good person. He also likes your more teasing and dominant side when you praise him. "You're such a good Autobot, Megs."

-Loves overloading inside of you. Seeing you swell and stretch with his transfluid is the best. Though he's careful not to hurt you.

-Doesn't like to mark you. While it would please his possessive side immensely, it just reminds him how fragile you are.

-Does NOT like to use his holomatter form. It's so unnatural and unusual to him that he can't enjoy it at all.

-Mostly quiet and moderately expressive

-Slow and soft

-KINKS:

-Size difference

-Inflation

-Bondage

-Oral/Kissing

-Office sex

-Praise

-Mock praise

Minimus:

-The first time he saw you naked was because you got tired of waiting for him to ask, so you changed in front of him. "W-Wait! What a-are yo-... Primus..." "Something the matter, Minimus?" "No... Not at all." He really likes your body but is shy about touching you most of the time.

-He doesn't need a mass displacement generator because in his true form he's only a few feet taller than you.

-Prefers to be sensual over sexual. Would be fine with just lovingly caressing each other all night. Though he is nowhere near with being against more.

-He hadn't exactly interfaced very many times before he met you, (you were actually his first, but his seals were medically removed for the Magnus armor and he's been alive for over 5 million years. There's no way in hell he's telling anyone that he was a virgin all this time. The crew barely respects him as it is) so your first time together was slow and you rode him. Perfect for if you were a virgin (too).

-He does like the fact that he's taller than you given how rare that is for him. He also likes that he can see the outline of his spike when he thrusts into you. He sometimes puts his hand over your abdomen so he can fell it slide in and out of you. It makes him overload a lot quicker.

-He isn't used to interface and rarely self-serviced so he's EXTREMELY sensitive. It doesn't take very much at all to pleasure him. And he can't exactly hold back his sounds or expressions. Not to mention having sex with him is more like instinctual humping than actual thrusting. Almost 95% of the time when you aren't riding him he'll just wrap his arm around your waist and go to town on you while burying his faceplates in your boobs.

-Primus, your mouth. It feels almost as good as your pussy to him. Almost overloaded instantly when first you wrapped your lips around his spike and sucked. That was one of the best overloads of his entire life.

-He will sometimes tie your hands behind your back, but overall nothing too kinky.

-The most public thing he's ever done was when you blew him in his office. He didn't understand why you were crawling under his desk until you started licking at his interface panels. "What are you doing down thER-!? W-Wait! Not h-hERE!" At first, he tried to pull back, but when you grabbed his thighs and started tracing his interface seams his panels popped open on their own. When you instantly latched onto him all he could process was the pleasure. That was the most embarrassing overload of his life.

-Likes it when you play with his valve, but will instantly overload if you even touch his spike while you're doing that. It's too much stimulating for him.

-Loves loves LOVES praise. He's hardly gotten any in his life so it feels great when he hears it from you in that loving and sincere voice.

-Can't physically hold out and can't go for more than two rounds. (Forgive him, he's trying his best.)

-He has zero experience with interface so he can't pull out at all. Besides, it feels more natural to overload inside of you, and he doesn't see the appeal of making a mess of you.

-Using his holomatter is just... No. That was his friend. A really good friend too. No.

-Surprisingly loud and expressive

-Fast and soft

-KINKS:

-Size difference

-PRAISE

-Oral

-Slight bondage

-(He's a simple mech.)

[leavingkindfootprints]

An open letter to the man that loved me first - My Dad.

Dear Dad, I write to you because out of every helping hand I have received in this world, you receive the least amount of credit and praise for everything you have done and for all the things you still do. You’ve always stood back and let me shine, only stepping in when I call for you knowing you can’t be more than a short distance away. It’s time I use these words and pull you into the light you so deserve to be seen in. It's time that light radiates on the genuine and extraordinary love only you could have shown me. A father teaches his daughter many lessons about what it means to truly love and experience this life. One of the most critical understandings he can portray to the young eyes beaming up at him is the notion of how she should be treated. Dad, I remember everything. I remember being tucked in at night and kissed good-bye before you left for work. I remember every walk you took me on. I remember every time you let me share your bed because I just wasn’t ready to leave yours. I remember every chocolate bar you would buy me knowing mum would crack the shits, but you didn’t care you just wanted to see me happy. Every dance lesson you paid for and sat through. The long talks shared on drives home from dance. Every time you were exhausted from working but still managed to take me to the swimming pool. I remember you taking me to RE classes so I could have something to believe in. I remember you putting me in a private high school just so I could have a better education, even if you didn’t have the money. I remember letting you down for choices I made when I was a teenager, but you never stopped loving me. I remember every weed you pulled out of my garden and every time you mowed my lawn. I remember you showing me how important it is to be outdoors. I remember you teaching me to be an active parent, to be in every moment with your child. I remember the few swims we’ve had together at Aspendale and it making you happy to see me in the ocean. I remember the talks we’ve had even if they haven’t been the easiest to talk about. We have a bond that is pretty incredible, with our personalities being so similar there are some things that we are the only ones who truly do get each other. The basis of personality I know comes from you, just in the tiny quirks that I know I truly could have to have only gotten from you. The father and daughter bond is a real thing and it goes beyond our general personalities. It comes in other things, like fitness and activity. You were always such a support in whatever I took part in sport or school wise. If it wasn’t for seeing your motivation and drive to stay active I probably wouldn’t be as focused on keeping a solid workout regime. As a man who’s done so much in life and continues to do so, you’ve endured things that I don’t speak of because it doesn’t define you. That might just be my favourite thing about you. You don’t let anything negative define you, you somehow manage to get through anything and everything, coming out even better than you were before. How impressive is that. You impress me everyday, whether you know it or not. Thank you for sharing parts of your childhood with me. Thank you for showing me that even if you’ve had horrible things happen to you, you don’t let them define your way of living. Thank you for showing me a marriage; the good and the bad. Thank you for never giving up on mum. Thank you for always telling me the story of how you met mum and you knew she was the one for you (because I was lucky enough to experience the same thing) Thank you for showing me how to work on a marriage, and even if it’s broken, you don’t give up on it. Thank you for teaching me loyalty. Thank you for having my back when I’ve felt like the world is against me. Thank you for loving and treating the person I’ve chosen to spend my life with like your own son. Thank you for teaching him life lessons he will carry forever. Thank you for showing him how to be a good father and husband. Thank you for showing him he’s not always right. Thank you for accepting him. Thank you for every camping trip to Lee Roy and showing me not to be afraid of nature. Thank you for teaching me to get my hands dirty once in a while. Thank you for the memories we have together building the veranda (I’ll never forget how many weeks it took in the rain and how you sacrificed your time to make my home secure) Thank you for reminding me about my never ending washing pile and to get rid of shit you don’t need anymore. Thank you for teaching me to value a friendship. Thank you for not only being my father but my best mate. Thank you for helping me to rebuild myself after you were burnt. Thank you for the times you cried in front of me and for showing me that men can cry too. Thank you for teaching me that no matter how many times you fall, not matter how many obstacles you may be facing, you get back up. Thank you for teaching me to have mental toughness. Thank you for surviving even when you were faced with a traumatic event. Thank you for guiding me on how to face trauma, head on! Thank you for the time you put into my children. Thank you for falling asleep with them in a single bed and not complaining about it. Thank you for teaching me to be brave. Thank you for showing me how to build a solid foundation for my family. Thank you for the appointments you came to when I was pregnant with my first born daughter because mum was in liver failure. For every meal you taught me to cook, and every meal we cooked together. Thank you for talking me through my contractions when I was in labour (I bet you forgot about that!) Thank you for accepting my decisions I’ve made as a woman. You are in every decision I make. Thank you for accepting the man I love. Thank you for giving not only me, but my family a home. Thank you for teaching me how to drive and not getting frustrated at me for having no confidence behind the wheel whatsoever. Thank you for buying me my first car. Not only did you give me a incredible first car, you gave me a safe and reliable one that myself and my children would be protected in. Thank you for letting me be in the shed with you. I remember being cradled between your legs because the noise from your tools were too loud for my tiny ears. I’ll never forget that dad. Thank you for teaching me the world can be a dangerous place and to be cautious. Thank you for protecting me. Thank you for the times you would have me brush your hair, or pluck your eyebrows. Thank you for preparing me for the world. Thank you for constantly reminding me about every sprinkler you installed in any building we went into. Thank you for every coin that has come out of your pocket so I wouldn’t have to go without things. Thank you for helping Corey’s dream of owning a business turn into reality. Thank you for giving him what no one gave you. Thank you for seeing the drive and passion in him that I do. I’m with a good man because of you. Even when I haven’t asked for your view on things, I can always hear your voice in the back of my head, usually encouraging me to make each decision with integrity. I sometimes feel like every action you take while in my presence is carefully thought out so that I learn something from it. Thank you for teaching me it’s ok to make mistakes. Thank you for teaching me not to be scared of the world. Thank you for showing what hard work is. Thank you for showing me that you can be a present parent even if you do work too many hours each day. Thank you for being dedicated to my education. Thank you for showing me the world. Thank you for arguing with me every day to prepare me to back up every opinion I possess. Thank you for teaching me integrity. Thank you for teaching me to give back. Thank you even more for showing me you look after the ones you love when they’re sick or in need. Thank you for giving me the best advice when it comes to raising children, especially daughters. Thank you for loving them the same way you love me. Thank you for teaching me how men should treat women so that I can never be taken advantage of professionally or personally. Thank you for making sure I know my worth. Thank you for teaching me I don’t ever have to settle for any less than I deserve. Thank you for never letting me believe that I couldn’t shatter a glass ceiling. Thank you for never giving up on me and reassuring me I still have time to pursue my dreams. Dad, I’ve mentioned it a few times in the past but my biggest fear is losing you. I never want there to be a last time I hear your voice. I never want to forget your scent. If I’m honest, I cannot even begin to comprehend it. Your footprint is completely ingrained in me that I feel like, well I know I will never be the same person again. I say this because I almost lost you once. I almost lost you in such a terrible way that I feel the need to say this. Do you remember the first time you woke up after being in a coma? I do. The first person you saw was me. I think sometimes you forget (understandably) but it was a moment that changed me. It made me appreciate every memory I had with you. I made an oath to myself that day I would never let another day go by without appreciating your existence. I ran so quickly from the car park into the hospital. The elevators took too long as my shaky hands pushed the button a million times. My heart was racing, I had so much adrenaline running through me. I took the stairs and ran up them as fast as I could. I raced through corridors and past nurses and doctors to get to you. I made it to you. You were confused, in shock and in a tremendous amount of pain. I held your hand just as I’d done everyday prior. I tried to tell you in the calmest way possible that I was there and I wasn’t leaving. I was the first person that made contact with you when you woke and that will stay with me forever. Dad there’s been times when you’ve cried on me and with me. These moments were sad but in these hard times you felt closer to me than anyone in your life. I think that’s so special. Some of those times only you and I will ever know about. I can’t keep count on the amount of times you’ve wiped away my tears. The amount of times you’ve wiped those same tears from the eyes of my daughters. Which brings me to my next paragraph. Your influence on my daughters has been so powerful. Your presence is so much greater than you will ever know. I see the enjoyment you get when your around them. The way you are with them is how you were with me. How lucky are they to experience a love like that. If you catch me taking photos of the moments you spend together, don’t be afraid to smile. Don’t be afraid to kiss them or grab them that little bit closer. Because those pictures will tell so many stories. Dad, the way you accepted the man I’ve fallen so deeply in love with. For putting your pride aside and trusting my judgement. Dad for years I was afraid I would never find a husband as great as you. While I believe no man will ever be you, both of you share the exact same qualities, morals and values. You share the same interests, beliefs and opinions. You both come from difficult childhoods. You both have a past, a history and a story. Sometimes the similarities shock me. Never in a bad way but it makes me question what I did in this life to be gifted someone who is exactly like you. Never forget the significant footprints you’ve left in him. Know he’ll love me unconditionally as you have. Know he’ll work to build a life for me and our children that was better than his own, just like you. Know he’ll never give up on me, just like you never have. I know we might fight but he’ll never stop fighting for me. I know he’ll do his best and just like you supported me and I’ll show him back that same support. When I walk down that aisle and when he says ‘I do’, what he really is promising is to live by the example you’ve set and the lessons you’ve taught. And to desperately try to fill the shoes of someone who has been in my heart far longer than he has. The man I loved first. Dad, I will forever defend and protect you. There is nothing you or anyone could do in this world that would ever change the way I see you. Nothing. I think you need to know that. Dad I will forever worship the ground you walk on. I know I’m never alone in this world. I never had to grow up and not know what it was like to not have you around. Dad, I need you to know you have deeply and significantly impacted my life. Forever in awe of the man, husband and father you are. I love you Dad. - g.t