#and then she realizes they sent her the wrong tubing or whatever and she physically cannot get the medicine out of the bottle and into me

[roetrolls]

I'm gonna get around to everyone's stuff I prommy, I just had a go of it today and needed to nap 5ever o(-<

I feel like I haven't had a lot of attention to spare these past couple weeks.... ummm u guys should send me art and writing you've done recently !!! I wanna see it!!

[volturiwolf]

The Volturi Princess - A Felix Volturi x fem!Reader Story (part 5)

A/N: That is the second part I'm uploading at the same time as part 4 because it will probably take me a lot more time to upload the next parts.

No of Words: 4300+

Mentions of: Abandonment, Abortion, Anxiety, Blood, Bruises, Coma/Comatosed State, Death Emotional Abuse, Emotional and Physical Pain, Gaslighting, Greece/Greek Language - with translation, Heartbreak, Italian Language - with translation, Manipulation, Murder, Pain, Panic Attacks, Pregnancy, Suffering, Suicide/Suicidal Thoughts, Swear Language, Throwing Up/Puking, Witches/Wizards/Witchcraft

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“The Volturi Princess ” Tag List (reply if you want to be tagged or removed):

@felixvolturisprincess @singerj2002 @mrtony-stank1 @ikissedthescarsonherskin @alecvolturiswifeforever @hshehdyhd @kpopgirlbtssvt @eunoia-kth @iilsenewman

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Felix’s POV:

It’s been about seven months since I woke up and (Y/N) fell asleep - I refused to acknowledge that she may not wake up. I preferred to tell myself that she was taking a long nap, just as she used to do before she left Volterra. I was telling myself again and again that she was sleeping, so much so that I almost started believing it.

When (Y/N) sacrificed her blood to save me, I couldn’t stop myself from almost draining her before Chelsea finally managed to take her away from me. When I realized that it was (Y/N)’s blood the one I consumed, I staggered back and forth as if I was trying to wake up from a bad dream. Her blood always “spoke” to me - la mia cantante - and when I got the chance to taste her, I couldn’t stop myself.

Now, she was in a comatose state, pale and weakened. She was still held in the dungeons, although she was taken care of, due to her current state. Chelsea informed me regarding what happened when I was unconscious.

(Y/N) was the one who carried me all the way back to Volterra, and she was forced to spend her time in the dungeons as a punishment for her “recklessness”, and Afton and Chelsea were guarding her. She was only allowed human food, which, of course, would have weakened her body!

Even as a part-vampire, part-human, she still needed blood to survive, to keep her strong. But, I guessed that was exactly what Aro would want to avoid; he wanted to keep her weak and powerless.

I tried once to force her to drink blood that I collected from some humans but she wouldn’t keep the blood in her mouth, let alone swallow it down. So, that plan was aborted and I couldn’t think of any other way to help her.

It had been a few days since I had last seen her. Aro forbade me from seeing her until Carlisle arrived, and even then, there was only a slight possibility I would be allowed to visit her. All I could do was wait.

Yet again, I thought it was unfair for (Y/N) to get punished. It wasn’t her who attacked me, it was her father. But it was only clear that Aro didn’t care as much about my physical state, as he cared about punishing (Y/N) for leaving Volterra, traveling the world, and finding her parents.

If it wasn’t for Aro and the obligation I felt towards him and the rest of the Volturi for taking me in and turning me into a vampire, I swear I would gladly take (Y/N) away from here. I couldn’t abandon my friends though, and I knew none of them would be willing to come with me. They had all built their loyalty towards the Kings due to Chelsea’s gifts, and Chelsea was pleased with this life due to Corin’s gift.

It was basically a cycle, where they all depended on the two of them to keep the balance and the bonds within the members of the coven. And, as much as I didn’t want to admit it, though my mate bond with (Y/N) was strong and powerful, I felt my bond with the coven and the Kings being reinforced day after day.

Days and nights were passing with no news from (Y/N) or the Twins. I was spending most of my time in my room, as there was nothing to do in particular - there was no new mission and everyone else seemed to be engaged in their own thing. Apart from Chelsea and Demetri who took care of (Y/N) or visited me to make sure I was okay, nothing seemed to have changed for everyone else.

A knock on the door broke the silence. Demetri. He came into my room without waiting for a response, which was not always something he did. His face seemed anxious, and I knew something was going on.

“They are here” was the only thing he managed to say before I jumped out of the bed and passed by him quickly, running out of the door, towards the dungeons. I was met with the Twins standing outside of (Y/N)’s temporary room. Carlisle was in the room with (Y/N) and Chelsea. I wanted to go in, to make sure he took care of my love, but the Twins stopped me in my tracks.

“We don’t know what will happen yet. Don’t go in there.” Jane spoke first. “We talked to Carlisle about her situation. He’ll try to do whatever he can.”

“You know that’s not enough.” I growled at her.

“It’s the best we have. Now, Felix, stay back or I will take away all of your senses until Carlisle leaves.” Alec warned me and the only thing I could do at the moment was to be quiet and wait for the doctor to inform us of (Y/N)’s situation. I could clearly hear them from the inside of her room.

“She has lost a lot of blood. How long has she been like this?” Carlisle asked Chelsea.

“About seven months now. We waited almost a month, just to see if she would wake up before Aro sent the Twins to come to find you.” Chelsea informed him.

“I see. Well, her heart is quite weakened. Was she..you know..physically capable before..the incident? Did she feed?” I knew Carlisle was implying if she was able to consume blood before she gave hers for me.

“No.” Chelsea sounded saddened. “She was “serving” her penalty. Aro would only allow us to serve her human food. She was already getting weak before that, and when Felix was unconscious, she was getting worse. I could feel their bond getting all over the place, and I consulted Marcus. He said that for (Y/N), knowing Felix wasn’t okay, was probably why she was draining, mentally and physically.”

I knew the bond was strong between mates, but I didn’t know it could have such an effect on (Y/N). I knew that Marcus was a total wreck from the moment he lost Didyme, but I had no idea how much it would affect (Y/N) in such a short period of time.

“We’ll have to fill her with blood. Have you tried feeding her somehow?”

“Felix has tried quite a few times to force her to feed but she couldn’t swallow the blood. It would fall right out of her mouth.”

“Right.” Carlisle sighed. “I’ll try to do something else, though I don’t know if it will work for her. As much as I don’t agree, I will need you to find me some humans. I will try to transfuse their blood to her. I will need some alcohol to sterile everything, some cotton, some needles, and some tubes. Could you find me some, Chelsea?”

“Yes, I will inform the Kings and the others as well.” Chelsea exited the room. “Demetri, can you stay with (Y/N)? Help Carlisle with whatever he needs. Jane, Alec, will you come with me, please? We have to inform Heidi as well.” The Twins nodded and they all ran upstairs, while Demetri entered (Y/N)’s room and closed the door behind him, leaving me outside, waiting.

It took some time, though not too long in vampire standards, for Chelsea and the Twins to come back with everything Carlisle needed. Santiago and Afton followed close behind, each one of them carrying two unconscious humans on their shoulders. They all entered (Y/N)’s room and then Santiago and Afton left.

I heard the alcohol rubbing against (Y/N)’s skin and then a human’s. I heard the needles piercing through their skin and then I smelled the blood. It was warm and welcoming, and I heard the vampires in their room trying to control their thirst; all except Carlisle, who had been training himself for years to abstain from human blood. He wanted to help people, something which I never quite understood, until now. Now, he was the only one who could help (Y/N).

A few moments passed in total silence.

“She seems to be reacting well enough to it. If it was any other human, they may have been dead by now.” I felt the general confusion in the room, just as much as Carlisle did.

“If it was any other human, we would have to test their blood type and the donor’s blood type, to see if they match. Unfortunately, there is no such method yet, to efficiently test this. So, it is a 50-50 chance that the patient receiving the blood may or may not die because of being the wrong match with the donor. However, (Y/N)’s body may be treating the blood solely as food, so it may not affect her in that way. However, she should be well-fed. The fact that she’s becoming better now cannot guarantee that she will wake up, but, at least, it will give her a boost of energy. Then, it all depends on her. I may have to stay a few days with her to see her progress if you don’t mind”.

“Of course, Carlisle, you’re welcome to stay as long as needed.” Jane took it upon her to reply. “I will inform the Masters but I think they’ll have no issue with that.”

“Thank you, Jane. I’ll now have to switch needles for the next transfusion. Let me know when the next..supplies will arrive.”

Carlisle certainly didn’t like the way we saw humans, as mere food, disposable, but that was our nature and we couldn’t go against it. Although Carlisle, feeding exclusively on animal blood, still seemed strong, capable, with a clear mind, and way better self-control than any of us did. Though, by now, we could control our thirst pretty well and only fed when we wanted, though it still wasn’t as easy to stand close to humans, as it was for him.

In my whole life, I have never craved a human’s blood as much as I have (Y/N)’s, but our bond would not let me feed off of her; I felt sick at the mere thought of hurting her. And yet, here we were, not knowing if (Y/N) will wake up or not. I only blamed myself and my nature, though I couldn’t change what I was, what I was turned into. I could only hope that (Y/N) would eventually wake up.

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Days were passing by, excruciatingly slow. I had nothing to do to keep my mind off of her, so I tried to spend most of my time outside of Volterra, in the woods, hunting or just running around to make the time pass as quickly as possible. Yet, it did not seem effective at all; I was left alone with my own thoughts, and (Y/N) was in all of them.

I struggled to remember my time in Greece when I saw her after all this time; my head was pounding every time I attempted to figure out what happened then. I could only vaguely remember when I asked her to go back home and then I passed out. Other than that, nothing but a blur. As if my memories were wiped or my brain was messed up with.

Carlisle stayed by (Y/N)’s side the majority of the time he was spending here, except for the few times he had to hunt or when he was invited by the Masters to discuss - we assumed their conversations included (Y/N)’s state, as well as his life and how he has been all these years, living as a “vegetarian” vampire, a term he used when comparing his diet to a vampire’s “regular” human blood-based one.

I still don’t know how he managed to survive and actually thrive on it, but I knew (Y/N) also started practicing this type of diet during and after Carlisle’s departure from Volterra all these years ago. She wouldn’t feed with us; if she was in the castle, she would eat human food, claiming she had “already satisfied her blood needs”. In reality, I did catch her hunting animals once or twice before, when I went out hunting humans, but I didn’t care about her diet; I wouldn’t judge her, as long as she was happy and healthy.

The absence of blood from her diet in general - courtesy of Aro, as her punishment - has deeply affected and weakened her. Thankfully, Carlisle’s presence forced Aro to follow his orders and allow (Y/N) to access blood. Carlisle must have gone through over 30 or 40 people during the period of a week, constantly transfusing blood to (Y/N), only leaving about 2 to 3 hours between each transfusion, to ensure her body acted positively and effectively to the blood fed to her.

I was helping along with Santiago and Afton to transfer the unconscious humans down to the dungeons; Heidi was attracting them as per usual, and sometimes, Demetri and I would go hunt them down at night, where most humans would be asleep.

It wasn’t an easy job - many humans had been infected by many different diseases, so their blood was also infected. Carlisle instructed us that the humans should be as “clean” and healthy as possible, as (Y/N)’s body would most likely not be able to fight a disease at that point. Usually, as vampires, we wouldn’t be affected by that; sure, the blood tasted pretty bad, but we could still consume it.

In (Y/N)’s case, Carlisle was treating her body like a human’s - fragile, mortal, disposable. The simplest bacteria could be fatal for her life at this point, so we could only hunt for humans where we knew the living conditions were a bit better than the general consensus.

I was currently sitting on a chair, at the furthest point of the library, going through some books (Y/N) used to love reading. Among others, it was Aristotle’s De Animalibus; Lascaris’ Grammatica Graeca, sive compendium octo orationis partium; Petrarcha’s Il Canzoniere; and Shakespeare's “First Folio”.

I always had trouble studying in Greek - or any other language, if I’m being honest, but both Demetri and (Y/N) attempted to help me multiple times. I had trouble studying with Demetri because he wasn’t (Y/N), and I had trouble studying with (Y/N) because she was herself; I couldn’t concentrate on studying when she was near me.

I missed that feeling. I just wished I could relive these moments when she was so close to me, I could practically feel her warmth. Truth be told, I always attempted to flirt with her, to come closer, to see if she could feel our bond, but she always dismissed my attempts.

“How are you holding on, my boy?” I didn’t realize someone was standing behind me, so I was startled. I turned around to see Marcus, his constantly sad face replaced by a worried look. “I know that you feel lost right now, I can sense it.” I couldn’t open my mouth to reply, I just looked down at my feet.

“I know how you feel. I, too, have been feeling like this for a long time now; lost, desperate, unable to do anything. When I lost my Didyme, I basically lost my whole world, my mind, my heart, my will to live. I’ve been wandering this planet aimlessly. Without her, nothing in this world ever made sense to me; she was the one who gave meaning to everything. I joined Aro because of her, and after she was gone, I was trapped in his ambitious plans and was never able to escape him. He wants me alive to help him in his causes, but all I want is my Didyme back.”

Marcus never spoke of his and Didyme’s relationship to anyone - it just hurt him too much to remember her.

“I should have saved her. We shouldn’t have told anyone we wanted to leave the Volturi. Sometimes, I can’t help but think that it was Aro behind everything, behind her death, behind me getting trapped here. I cannot prove it though, and I also don’t even want to think that he could do something so evil, so abominable as to kill his own sister because she...we wouldn’t agree with his plans.” Marcus looked skeptical and desperate; saying all these things that he had buried deep inside him for so long must have been painful for him.

I couldn’t help but think what could happen if (Y/N) never actually recovered. I would never recover from it either. I have already created an “unofficial” plan - I would actually abandon Volterra forever, I would try to take my own life, and if that didn’t work, I already knew plenty of enemies the Volturi have made over the years. They would “take care” of me, and I wouldn’t resist - I wouldn’t have a reason to exist, a reason to fight for.

“When the time comes for her to wake up, don’t waste any time. Nothing would matter without her, so don’t waste any time away from her. You both wasted a lot of time, not admitting your feelings to each other. Better start now, before it’s too late.”

And with that, Marcus turned and ran out of the library, leaving me in my own thoughts. I had to see her, right now. Without really thinking about it, I ran out of the library and towards the dungeons. I saw Afton guarding her door, and I heard Chelsea and Carlisle inside her room. Her heartbeat was a bit stronger compared to a few months ago, but still weaker than her usual heartbeat, which used to echo in a castle full of vampires.

I went towards the door, but Afton stopped me. “She just had her last transfusion for the day. Let her rest. You shouldn’t be here anyway.”

“I have to see my mate. You all have been keeping me in the dark all this time. I HAVE TO SEE HER NOW!” I demanded and pushed the door open, Afton not being able to stop me. Chelsea and Carlisle turned towards me. “I have to see her. Please.” They looked at each other and nodded at me.

“We will leave you two alone. Just be careful and gentle. Her body is still weak and fragile, so no screams from now on, okay?” Carlisle acted like the father she never really had. I whispered a small “okay”, and Chelsea and Carlisle left the room quietly.

I was finally left alone with her. I haven’t seen her in over a month, since Carlisle came to Volterra, and I haven’t been alone with her once, since before she left Volterra. I actually missed her so much, seeing her, talking with her. She had a brilliant mind, the result of eons of studying and reading books. I couldn’t bear seeing her like that, comatose, emotionless, weak - she wasn’t the (Y/N) I knew. She was what her parents and Aro made her be - weak, helpless, a pawn to their plans. I wanted to talk to her, even if she couldn’t hear me.

“Hey, amore mio, it’s me, Felix.” My voice was trembling. “I came to see you, I missed you so much, Principessa (princess). I wish I could hold you in my arms right now, but I’m afraid I would break you. I wish you would wake up, I wish I could see your beautiful eyes again. I wish I had told you how much I love you, how I have been loving you all these centuries that I’ve been here.”

I paused a bit. “I wish I could tell you that all I remember from my human life is when you found me and brought me here and that all I ever think about is about you. I don’t want to lose you. I wasted too much time away from you. When I had so many chances to be with you, I was afraid, I was scared I was never good enough for you. You deserve better than me, you deserve the world. You are full of potential and I never wanted you to waste your life away with me. I wanted you to be happy and free because I love you. I would never think of restricting you, of forcing you to stay here with me, if that wasn’t what you wanted, so I let you go. I wanted you to see the world that fascinated you so much. I wanted you to experience everything. Even if that meant you were away from me; even if that meant you would never come back.”

I took an unnecessary breath. “I wish you would protect yourself first; I didn’t want you to sacrifice your life for me. You are too precious for me to lose you. And I’m afraid I may be too late, but..I wanted you to know that it’s always been you, everything I did was for you. It wasn’t Chelsea’s gift or my devotion to the Kings that kept me here. It was you, I wanted to be with you, stay with you, protect you. You gave meaning to my meaningless, cold life. You made me see life from a different perspective, you made me see that life it’s worth living and fighting for if I have you by my side. Please, come back to me.”

My eyes were stinking with venom at this point; (Y/N)’s heart beat a bit faster than before; her skin shined a bit more than before. I smiled at her peaceful figure before I captured her face within my palms. I leaned forwards and placed a tender and passionate kiss on her lips.

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(Y/N)’s POV:

I’ve felt like I’ve been living in the dark for quite some time now. I had no sense of where I was or how long I’ve been here - I stopped hearing voices, it was just the ultimate silence; a darkness I couldn’t see through, and a silence I couldn’t scream to. I didn’t even know how much time passed before I started hearing voices again. Was that Carlisle? And Chelsea? Chelsea actually stayed with me? After some time, I started feeling warmth and I could hear faint heartbeats, apart from my own.

Then, one day, Felix came to see me. I couldn’t see him or talk to him yet, but I could recognize him by his scent - to me, he always smelled like pinewood, sandalwood, cinnamon, and amber; his scent intoxicating and welcoming, it always gave me a sense of comfort and belonging.

He didn’t sit beside me on the bed. I could feel him standing beside the bed. His voice was trembling, though it sounded soft and caring. He told me all the things that I waited for centuries for him to say; to tell me that he loved me, just as I loved him all this time.

I felt something inside me break, something that kept me trapped here, and I felt my soul being lifted. I felt my heart beating faster, I felt like I could breathe, the weights that held me down being lifted off of me.

And then, he kissed me. It wasn’t like the small kiss he gave me last time; this kiss was full of passion and love, a kiss that could tell more than any word could ever do. I felt my soul reaching the surface, as I kissed him back, cupping his cheek with my hand. He stopped kissing me, and I opened my eyes, shedding tears that I kept inside for so long.

Felix was in shock, his face a few centimeters away from mine. I looked at him lovingly, as I stretched my hands to kiss him once again. He kissed me back, his hands settling on my waist, slowly lifting me off the bed and twirling me around, the bedsheets falling off of me. My heart beat faster than before, faster than it had ever had.

We were lost in our own world, his hands tightly hugging me, keeping me close to him. I finally was where my heart belonged. Our lips parted and I couldn’t stop staring deep into his black eyes, eyes full of love and lust. We stayed like this for a few minutes; Felix didn’t set me down just yet.

We heard the door open. There stood a shocked Demetri and an even more shocked Chelsea, followed by a shocked Jane and a shocked Alec. Felix finally set me down, and we turned to look at the four shocked vampires. I didn’t know it was possible for vampires to go into shock mode until I saw five in a span of a few minutes apart.

Chelsea was the first to come up to me and hug me tightly, followed by an even more enthusiastic Jane. Demetri and Alec waited for their turn and hugged me tightly, never letting me go. Thank Dia, I was partially a vampire, otherwise, they would literally crush my bones. Finally, they let me go but couldn’t keep their eyes off me, as if I would disappear in front of them if they didn’t. They pretty much couldn’t keep that thought off their minds.

“Guys, I’m not going anywhere. You can be sure about that.” I reassured each of them, smiling widely. “I understand you are all really concerned, but I'm okay now and I’m not going anywhere. I will not leave you.” I turned, looking up at Felix and smiling at him, him smiling back at me. I knew where my heart was now, and I would never let go of him.

[chickensarentcheap]

Never Gonna Be Alone- Chapter 73

Title: Best Laid Plans

Warnings: some profanity, talk of domestic abuse, child death

Tagging:  @tragiclyhip, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @ocfairygodmother, @lokitrasho, @miss-smutty,  @raith-way​, @ocappreciation​

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28860450/chapters/85024549

He’s up at quarter to six; throwing on a muscle shirt and a pair of work out pants and slipping into the well worn sneakers he keeps by the back door. A run on the beach as the sun peeks over the horizon is exactly what he needs; his bad knees cushioned by sand beneath him, a steady, cool breeze blowing in off the ocean, and the sky painted in vivid orange and gold and stunning pink streaks. The two dogs run on either side of him; their tags clinking against their collars, each carrying a tennis ball in their mouths in hopes of play after the hard work is done. The excursion to his body is calming to both brain and soul; pushing all thoughts of Mark and his devious intentions onto the back burner and concentrating on nothing but his breathing and his heart rate and the sights and sounds around him. And once at the finish line, he bends at the waist and places his hands on his thighs; eyes closed as the sweat trickles off his forehead and runs down his nose and his temples and gathers at the nape of his neck. Chest heaving and burning; a familiar discomfort that serves to remind him of just how far he’s come. Fighting against the odds to complete the long and painful recovery after the incident with Nathan and coming out almost as good as he was before; strong, agile, his health better than it's ever been. He’d somehow survived and he’d long ago swore he'd never take another minute for granted; always grateful to wake up and find himself on top of the ground instead of below it.

After a half an hour of entertaining the dogs, he returns home; splashing cold water on his face and neck and running wet hands through his sweaty hair and then heading for the kitchen. Busying himself with the morning routine; brewing his coffee and the three shots of espresso he always adds to it. The smoothies are next; a wide selection of fresh fruit and various supplements and vitamins recommended by both his doctor and Esme’s fetal and maternal medicine specialist. And the moment he hears her footsteps above -small and light, but just heavy enough to NOT be a child- he begins preparing her breakfast; kettle boiling for her tea while he throws a couple of slices of bread in the toaster and gathers up a container of plain yogurt and a handful of different fruits to chop. He glances over his shoulder and smiles in greeting when she joins him; messy hair held away from her face and out of her eyes with a sparkly purple headband stolen from one of their daughters and her tiny frame clad in a pair of baggy Hello Kitty night shorts and one of his t-shirts. And before he can open his mouth to offer up a ‘good morning’, she’s wrapping her around his waist from behind; yawning loudly and rubbing her cheek against the fabric of his shirt before laying her head against his back.

“Babe…” he warns. “ I probably stink. Gonna make you pass out. Give the baby in utero PTSD.”

“Bullshit. You smell good. You smell like a man. MY man. “

“All the kids still asleep?”

Esme nods. “You already went for a run?”

“Just a small one. Took the dogs with me. Tired them out.”

“I thought you said Sunday was your ‘set in stone rest day’?

“I did. But that’s just for lifting heavy.” Turning around to face her, he takes her face in his hands, turning her head up towards him as he leans down to kiss her. “I’m still going to run every day.”

“You know how I feel about this; when it comes to you pushing yourself too hard.”

“I know you worry. I know you don’t blow out my knee or fuck my femur up somehow. I’m taking it easy; I’m not going full tilt and I’m not ignoring my body when it starts screaming at me. I’m doing a lot better; when it comes to recognizing the signs and paying attention to them.”

“I just want you to be careful. I don’t want you hurting yourself. And you've been spending a lot of time in the gym. You went from one three hour a work out a day to TWO. That’s a lot, babe. Even for a bad ass like you. I know you feel this need to be bigger and stronger and…”

“I’m past that. Maybe just looking to put on another ten. That’s it. That’s probably as big as I’ll ever get again. Sorry. No return to the thicc, lumberjack stage that you enjoyed so much.”

“I DID enjoy it. You had the big muscles and the extra weight in your tummy and your hair was short and your beard was really thick. It was a good look on you. A VERY good look.”

“But…”

“But I love you EVERY way. And how your body is right now? That’s how you looked when we met. When I fell in love with you. So it tends to be my favourite. It’s very sentimental to me. And you know what would make it even MORE sentimental?”

“If you want me to get the haircut, I’ll get the haircut.”

“You would do that for little old me? You’d do that to keep your pregnant and extremely hormonal wife happy?”

“I would do anything for you. Pregnant or not.”

“Best husband ever,” she declares, and stands on her tip toes as he kisses her once more; hands tightly grasping the sides of his t-shirt.

She’d long ago gotten used to that ‘after work out’ stench; the potent tang of sweat , the lingering remains of laundry detergent, and the cool, brisk, freshness of antiperspirant. It’s HIS smell. One that reminds her of safety and protection and love. Of HOME. When he’s away, it’s those combined, familiar scents that offer comfort; bringing solace to her aching heart and effectively relieving at least some of the fear and worry nagging at her. Sleeping with his pillow every night and often wearing one of his t-shirts or bundling herself up in one of his hoodies; soothed by the smell of him clinging to the sheets and clothes and subduing her rattled nerves just enough for her to fall asleep.

It never gets easier; kissing him goodbye at the front door or the airport and then wondering -as he walks away- if she’ll ever see him again. The job isn’t a life you ever really get used to; lying to yourself when you tell others that you’re completely fine with your husband being thousands of miles away, putting his life on the line in the hopes of saving another. But she copes; knowing he can more than handle himself when it comes to the physical aspect and that he’ll do whatever it takes to get back to her and the kids. But the ache is real when he’s not under the same roof; both her and their brood feeling his absence and both saddened and angered about it. And the worry and fear never disappear; feeling as if she’s holding her breath the entire time, never releasing it until the moment he walks back through the front door. Safe and sound.

Pressing his lips to her forehead, he turns towards the counter once more; snagging a knife from the butcher’s block and preparing the only breakfast her stomach has been able to handle. Dry toast accompanied by chunks of fresh fruit, a smoothie containing all the vitamins and supplements recommended by her doctor, and a tea that helps with calming both her tummy and her nerves. While the nausea lingers throughout the entire day, the mornings have been especially horrendous; unable to keep even the smallest sips of water down and struggling with both weakness and dizziness. All of the pregnancies have been the same in that respect; losing weight before actually managing to put it on, suffering from headaches and queasiness and even a handful of scares that sent them running to the hospital in fear there was something terribly wrong. But the sixth pregnancy is turning out to be an even bigger struggle; half a dozen different medications fighting to keep her blood pressure down, help her sleep, and keep her eating and drinking properly.

“I’m surprised you’re up,” Tyler remarks, as she moves to the stove to tend to the boiling kettle. Offering a mug with the tea bag already in it; his hand briefly resting on the small of her back as he places a kiss on her temple. “You were sleeping pretty good when I went on my run.”

Sighing, she sets the mug down on the stovetop and fills it with water. “I probably still would be if your spawn didn’t wake me up out of nowhere and send me on a mad dash to the bathroom. I’ve come to expect SOME sickness, but this?”

“This one’s giving you an extra hard time, huh? What did the doctor say? Something about making too much human growth hormone? I don’t know. She completely lost me when she broke out the science speak.”

“A variant of it. And it’s too much of ALL the hormones. Kind of weird; that the last pregnancy would be the worst. You’d think it would be the easiest; your body totally used to everything, able to push that sucker out with only two tries. I swear to Christ, Tyler. If this is another Millie labour…”

“You’ll cut my dick off?”

“That’s a little extreme. You need your dick. It’s still very useful. I’ll just chop your balls off. So you can’t make any more swimmers.”

“How about we not do that and just let the surgeon handle things?”

“I want a goddamn guarantee from him that this isn’t going to happen again; your penis remarkably healing itself and letting those swimmers of yours have free reign.”

“I’m going to jump in here for a second. You realize your body fucked up too, yeah? That it took BOTH of us to make this baby? Your tubes were tied. Right after you had Kota and Brookie. You’re not supposed to be able to get pregnant in the first place.”

She stares at him over the rim of her mug. “Even if I hadn’t gotten them tied, you weren’t supposed to be able to produce any sperm. Ever again. For the rest of your natural born life. But low and behold…”

“You…” He points the knife at her. “...need to accept some responsibility in all of this.”

She huffs, taking a sip of tea and then setting it on the stove; hands on her hips in a show of defiance. “I will do no such thing.”

“Come on, this can’t all be pinned entirely on me. Both our bodies had to screw up for this to happen. So be a big girl…” snagging her by the front of her t-shirt, he gently pulls her into him. “...and take some of the blame.”

She stares up at him; a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth and those enormous, dark eyes sparkling mischievously. “No. You can’t make me.”

“Listen pocket wife, I’m a foot and three inches taller than you and almost a hundred pounds heavier. I can make you.”

“I’d like to see you try. You don’t intimidate me. Your muscles and your resting asshole face and all those tattoos and scars. They don’t scare me a bit.”

“You realize I have ways of convincing you, don’t you? Ways that don’t involve intimidation. “

“Yeah?” Both hands clutch the front of her shirt as her body leans into his. “What kind of ways are we talking about then?”

He swipes the tip of his tongue across his bottom lip. “Sexual ones.”

“You realize that sounds more like pleasure than punishment, right?”

“You remember that thing we did back in New York City. In the bathtub. The thing you claim to hate but always seem to love? The one thing that I always can count on to make you squirt? Do you know what thing I’m talking about?”

“I know EXACTLY what you’re talking about.”

“Well next time around, when you least expect it? I’m going to do that twice as much. Only this time there won’t be a happy ending. For you, anyway.”

Her eyes narrow. “You wouldn’t.”

“Yes. Yes I would.”

“You’re evil.”

“Most evil husband out there.”

“You may be the most evil, but you’re also the sexiest out there. So at least you have THAT going for you,” she chides, giving a tiny yelp when he brings a palm down on the cheek of her ass in a ringing slap. Giggling when his hand reverts to lightly pinching and squeezing before drawing her into him; body pressed against his and her hands tightening their grip on his shirt as he leans down to kiss her. Long and slow and deep; the brief contact between their tongues finding her curling her toes and sighing into his mouth.

When he pulls away he’s smiling down at her; blue eyes sparkling with a mixture of unbridled lust and pure adoration. Hand moving from her ass to the side of her cheek; knuckles grazing over the soft skin before gentle fingertips clear wayward strands of hair away from her face and tuck them behind her ear. “You’re beautiful.”

“You need glasses.”

“I already knew that. But needing them doesn’t mean you’re not beautiful.”

The smile she gives is shaky; tears welling in her eyes as a lump of emotion wedges firmly in her throat. It’s overwhelming at times; seeing his love, adoration, and affection laid so bare. This big, strong man with his myriad of tattoos and scars and a lifetime of trauma, guilt, and regret. So brave and fearless yet so vulnerable at the same time; possessing a heart that he’s even bigger than his body and a beauty to his soul that not even his father, Asif, Mahajan, or Nathan had been able to rob him of. Working as a team, she’d spent years helping chip away at the seemingly impenetrable walls that he’d built around his heart; patiently urging him outside of his comfort zone and encouraging that humanity lingering inside of him to make itself fully known. In the end, the reward was far beyond anything she could ever imagined; a man that loves her so wholly and completely. And profoundly. So much so it often takes her breath away; and all consuming and often leaving her feeling unworthy of such devotion.

He frowns when he notices the tears in her eyes and the tell tale wobble of her lower lip and chin. “What’s the matter? Why are you gonna cry? What…?”

Her voice comes out as a childlike whimper; reminding him of Addie when she’s been scolded or has had a particularly rough run in with Millie and the teasing was just too much to take. “I really need a hug right now.”

Setting the knife on the counter, he gathers her in his arms. One arm circling her waist as a hand settles on the back of her skull; palm lightly pressing her head into his chest. And when she stands on the top of his feet and perches on her tiptoes in order to return the embrace, he crouches down until she’s able to successfully wrap both arms around his neck. His beautiful, tiny wife; his best friend, truest confident, and his rock during his darkest and most dire of times. Always sticking by his side no matter how difficult he sometimes makes things; forever patient and attentive during the long and painful recovery after Nathan, always forgiving him for his sins and mistakes even when he can’t forgive himself. Suddenly seeming so weak and vulnerable herself; her entire body trembling and her tears seeping through the fabric of his shirt.

“You’re gonna be alright,” he promises, and presses a kiss to her ear. “It’s gonna be okay. It’s ALL gonna be okay.”

*****

He hates seeing her like this; face lined with worry and exhaustion, shoulders drooped as if carrying the weight of the world upon them, eyes dark and downcast instead of sparkling and playful. He’d long ago gotten used to her morning persona; overly cheerful and extremely talkative compared to his grumpiness and need for complete and utter silence until he’s at least finished his coffee. So it’s unsettling when she deviates from the norm; missing the familiarity and the routine of her chattiness and her teasing and witty banter. Instead completely silent as she sits across from him at the table on the back deck; her feet resting in his lap as she merely nibbles at the dry toast and moves the pieces of various fruits around on her plate.

He gestures at her plate with his fork. “You need to eat. Start putting weight on instead of it dropping off.”

“It’s not like I’m NOT trying.” She spears a chunk of watermelon and brings it to her lips, taking a tiny bite before setting it back down again. “I WANT to eat. My body is BEGGING me to eat. But it’s kind of hard when you just feel...I don’t know...off.”

“Something we need to worry about? Something to do with the baby?”

“No. I feel fine that way. Other than being crazy nauseous and already having insane heartburn. How much hair is this kid going to have? Because the only other time I suffered this bad…”

“We ended up with Addie. Hairiest damn kid I have EVER seen. Hands down.”

She manages a smile, then nibbles at a slice of dry toast. “Remember how it was practically head to toe? Because she was a preemie?”

“She looked like a little monkey. A cute one, mind you. But a monkey.”

“Don’t ever say that to her. It’ll be her new obsession; monkey this, monkey that. None of our other babies had much hair. If any at all. Well, Declan…”

“I will never forget seeing that head of hair. Bright red.”

“You looked so confused,” Esme muses, as she once more pulls her plate towards her and attempts to eat. “When he was crowning. It was like he had two heads or something.”

Tyler winks at her from across the table. “I was trying to figure out when you had time to get busy with me AND the cable guy.”

“Baby, he is all yours. Without a doubt. The cable man didn’t stand a chance getting close to me. So unless you can get pregnant just by breathing the same air as someone…”

“I hope you’d have better standards than that guy. If you’re going to do something like that, can you at least have the respect to go a notch higher than I am in quality?”

“That’s not even remotely possible. You’re already on the very top rung of quality. In fact, you’re in another league all your own. All by yourself. If you have the best, why settle for less?”

A grin plays on his mouth. “You are so good for my ego.”

“Besides, we both know I’m the last person that would EVER do something like that. I am way too hopelessly and madly and wildly in love with you. Always have been. Always will be. So unless you’re planning on going somewhere, you’re stuck with me. For the long haul.”

“I’m perfectly happy where I am. And with who I’m with. You know that, yeah? That I’d never do something like that. No matter who’s trying to get with me? I would never...EVER..cheat on you.”

“This is stemming from my insecurities, isn't it? Those women yesterday.”

“I just wanted to get it out there. I don’t care about any of them. There might as well not even be any other women on earth. The only one that matters? The only one I want? Is you. And that’s not going to change.”

“And you say I’m good for YOUR ego?”

“I mean, maybe it doesn’t need to be said. Maybe you already realize all that. Or maybe you’re going to tell me that you don’t need the words; you can see everything in my eyes anyway. I just think sometimes I should say it. Who knows, maybe I need to tell you more than you need to hear it.”

Well…” She reaches for his hand that rests on the tabletop, running her fingertips along his forearm and over his palm before lacing their fingers together. “...a girl DOES like to hear how much she’s adored and worshipped.”

“I thought you like it better when I SHOW you how much.”

“That too. But sometimes it’s a nice little bonus; hearing the words.”

Pushing his chair away, he stands and leans across the table; free hand reaching out to cradle her cheek in its palm. “I worship you. I adore you. I love you. And I can’t live without you.”

While tears sparkle in her eyes, her smile is genuine; filling out her cheeks and crinkling the bridge of her nose. “And you say you’re not romantic.”

He bends down to kiss her; the soft press and languid movements of closed mouth upon closed mouth. “I do have my moments,” he says with a grin, running the tip of a finger down the bridge of her nose, playfully tapping the end of it before returning to his seat.

They sit in companionable silence. Enjoying the crisp, refreshing breeze that rolls in off the ocean and the familiar yet calming sounds of the outdoors. The waves rolling up onto the shore, the rustling of the trees as they sway in the wind and the different melodies that come from Esme’s collection of wind chimes attached to the awnings of the pool house. It’s home. The familiar yet never boring sights and sounds of the where they’re the most comfortable; where they grow and nurture their family and take advantage of the many spoils given to them by such a beautiful and expansive piece of land.

Returning to Australia had been the best move they’d ever made. The start of strengthening not only their marriage, but every aspect of the life and relationship they share; making sure to nurture and grow each separate component that makes them, THEM. Often having to pull back from the chaos and stress of everyday existence to remind themselves that they’re not just spouses and people raising kids together; they’re each other’s confidants, best friends and devoted and faithful lovers. Two unique individuals that share a bond unlike many could ever fully understand; broken and in tatters when they’d first met yet somehow managing to comfort and heal one another. What had happened in Dhaka will forever remain the foundation their life together has been built open. A rather odd concoction of many things; shared grief and regret, adrenaline and fear, profound lust accompanied by the pangs of the heart that remind you that you’re still human. And a lot of blood, sweat and tears. All combined with the unforgettable stenches of raw sewage, blood and sweat, and spilled gasoline.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He breaks the silence first, pushing away his empty plate and reaching for his smoothie. Satisfied with her attempt to get food into her belly; her own meal almost completely finished save for a couple bites of toast and a small handful of grapes. Her feet once more resting in his lap; both hands curled around the plastic tumbler that contains the thickened ‘super shake’ he’d made for her earlier.

“By ‘it’ I’m assuming you mean Mark?”

Tyler nods.

“What more is there to say? He’s in town. Not like there’s anything we can really do about it. Not until he at least makes a move.”

“I’ve got guys trying to track him down. Looking into every hotel, every bed and breakfast, every short term rental within a fifty mile radius. Unless he’s gone totally off the grid and he’s holed up in a cave somewhere, my guys will find him.”

“Is that really what you were doing last night? Taking care of all of that stuff? Getting people going on all this?”

“It was some of what I was doing. Not all of it. When you came in, I was doing exactly what I told you I was. I’d already gotten it all set up; guys already starting to dig. Told ‘em not to leave any stone unturned; Mark’s crafty and he’s slippery and he’s going to do everything he can to avoid me catching up to him. He wants the element of surprise; get to you when my guard is down. I’m hoping to get to him before that happens.”

“When do you ever let your guard down?”

“Even I slip up, Esme. You know that better than anyone.”

“Tyler Rake doesn’t make mistakes when it’s family on his line. He rarely makes them when it’s complete strangers he’s looking out for. You’re not the type to fall asleep at the wheel, babe. Especially when it comes to the kids. And ESPECIALLY when it comes to me.”

“I can’t be around you twenty-four seven. There’s going to be times I can’t be with you. As much as I’d love to be glued to your hip…”

“Do you trust the guys you picked? You don’t exactly hand that out lightly, Tyler. And you’ve always been very careful about who you bring into the business. You’ve always had the strictest hiring practices I’ve ever seen. You don’t just bring anyone aboard. And if you’re willing to put them in charge of keeping an eye on him…”

“I trust them when it comes to the job. They’re some of the best I’ve ever seen, actually.”

“Other than yourself, you mean.

“They’re good, Me. They’re quick on their feet and they’re strong as fuck and they will not back down. From anyone or anything.”

“But…”

“But I don’t fully trust anyone when it comes to you. That’s not something I can give; just hand over your life like that. No matter how well I know someone or how good of a merc they are. But I don’t have a choice, do I? It’s not possible to be around every second of every day. I wish it was. I wish I was the only one taking care of you. But…”

“If your gut tells you that these guys can handle it, then that’s what you go with. I trust you, Tyler. Whether it’s protecting me on your own or making the decision to hand it off to someone else. Your instincts are so strong. Some of the strongest I have ever seen. And if they’re telling you that this is right...that these men are right…”

“They’re telling me that I don’t have any other choice. That I NEED to trust these guys. And I want to Esme; I want to be able to sit here and tell you that I trust them one hundred percent. But other than you? There’s no one I trust that way.”

“If you say this is the right decision and that these are the right people, then I’ll go with that. Because I trust YOU. I always have. I always will. So if this is the move you need to make and you’re confident in it…”

“As confident as I’m gonna be.”

“Then there’s nothing more to talk about. If you trust them, then so do I. Simple as that.”

He nods slowly as he considers her words, then offers a small smile and once more takes her hand; lifting it to his lips and pressing a kiss to the inside of her wrist.

“I know you don’t have any answers. And to be honest, I don’t expect any. But I just don’t understand. Why is he doing this? Why now? If it’s a revenge thing, why wait this long? I haven’t been married to him for fifteen years. Why wait that long?”

“I don’t know, Me. I don’t even know if that’s his angle.”

“Everything says it is. What else could he possibly want? Do you think he’s a threat? To me?”

“Yeah,” Tyler reluctantly admits. “I do. He wouldn’t come out of the woodwork after all this time and play all those little mind games in New York and then make it a point to show up here IF he wasn’t planning something. I just don't know exactly what it is. Or when he’s gonna make his move. And hopefully the guys I have trying to find him will track him down. Sooner the better.”

“What will they do with him? If they do find him?”

“Found a little out of the way place in the northern territory. Somewhere they can keep him; until I can get there. Off the beaten track, no through roads, heavy bush. Not a single soul around. Figure that’s for the best, yeah? Keep him somewhere no one can hear screaming and pleading for his life.”

“You’re going to handle that yourself?”

“Hopefully. Told my guys that they can rough him up, but I want him very much alive. So he can feel every goddamn thing I do to him. And I know you’re probably thinking this is a throwback to McMann; taking him hostage and torturing his ass. But…”

“You do what you need to do, Tyler. You do whatever you feel he deserves. I’m not going to think any less of you. And Lord knows that I’ve had quite a few fantasies about how brutal I would love you to be if you ever got your hands on him. I’m not going to ask how and I don’t expect you to tell me. You just do what you need to do. To make him suffer and make him pay for what…” Her voice cracks; tears of both rage and insurmountable pain welling in her eyes. “...just make him pay. Promise me you’ll make him pay.”

Sliding his chair away from the table, he’s at her side in only three long strides; dropping to a knee in front of her and taking her trembling hands in his.

“Promise me, Tyler. Promise me you’ll make him pay.”

“I’ll make him pay, Esme. I promise.”

“Everything he did to him. Everything he said. It’s just all coming back. All those horrible, mean, degrading things he called me. All the times he forced me to do disgusting, horrible things to him. All the nasty, gross shit that HE did to ME.”

He feels the rage that immediately begins to take hold; his jaw setting and tightening and the blue of his eyes becoming much darker. Bile settling in the back of his throat; acrid and burning. He hates hearing about it; the horrific things that she’d been subjected to at the hands of someone who was supposed to love her, protect her, and give her a good life. The person he loves more than anything else in the world and would gladly lay his life down for. Not just his wife, but his best friend and the mother of his children and the centre of his universe.

“You don’t have to talk about this,” he says, and tightly squeezes her hands. “Nothing good will come from going there. Nothing…”

“He is an evil, sick, demented person,” she continues, words struggling to make it through the sobs. “He used to make me clean the baseboards and the grout with my toothbrush and then he’d force me to use it afterwards. If he was in a mood and didn’t like what I made for dinner, he’d throw it on the floor and he’d make me get on my hands and knees and force me to eat it. Like I was a dog! And when I tried to fight back, the beatings just got worse and worse and worse and…”

“That’s enough,” he gently orders, and releases his hold on her hands in favour of drawing her into his embrace. An arm wrapped around her waist and a palm resting on the back of her head; pressing a kiss to her temple and her cheek before drawing her face down to his shoulder. “No more. Don’t do this to yourself. Don’t go back to that place.”

One of her hands clutch desperately at the back of his shirt, the other clamping down on the nape of his neck. “How do I ever get over it? How do I ever fully leave all that behind? I thought I was doing okay with it. I thought I was finally putting it all past me. I thought…”

“Sometimes there’s things we don’t really get over. Not completely, anyway. And that was fucking hell; the shit that he put you through. I’m sorry, Me. I am so fucking sorry.”

“Is it weird that sometimes I think about ‘what if’? That I’ll wonder what it would have been like if we’d met some other way? Some other time. Some other place. Before all the bad shit ever happened. Imagine? If we’d met before all of that; if we’d found each other and healed one another sooner?”

“There’s nothing wrong with thinking about that stuff. But babe….listen to me….” He pulls away and cradles her face in his hands; thumbs swiping at the tears that continue to fall “...you can’t live the rest of your life thinking about that. Because if none of the bad ever happened? We wouldn’t have met. Because all the loss and the bullshit put us on the path that led us to each other. And yeah; it was fucking painful and I wanted to put a gun in my mouth and pull the trigger so many times. But in the end, all that crap? All the hard stuff? It brought you into my life. You know that. I KNOW you know that.”

“What if it was all for nothing? You spent YEARS trying to make up for all his mistakes. You didn’t care how messy I was or how messy my life had been before you. You just picked up the pieces and you put me back together. And you never complained ONCE; You just did it.”

“I did it because I love you. Because I couldn’t exactly go and find the guy and kill him with my bare fucking hands. And believe me, I’ve thought about it many times. About how I’d do it. And how I’d make it as slow and painful as possible.”

“All the time and the work you put into fixing me. What if Mark puts me over the edge and I become a big mess again? What if all of a sudden I’m in a million fucking pieces again? What then? It will all be for nothing?”

“No. It won’t. And you know why? Because even if you fall apart a thousand times, each time I’m going to pick those pieces up and I’m going to find a way to make them up. I love you, Esme. More than I ever loved anyone. More than I even thought was possible. And if it DOES happen...you do fall apart...I’m just going to be here to pick you...and all those pieces….back up.”

“I don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve YOU.”

“Baby, you deserve the fucking world. And I’d give it to you if I could. Come here…” Pressing a kiss to her brow, he tangles his fingers in her hair and draws her head down onto his shoulder; other hand moving in slow, comforting circles in the middle of her back. “...everything’s alright. There’s nothing to be scared of. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“It’s not that I’m scared. Not of him getting a hold of me. I know that you’d never let him get that close. You’d do anything to protect me. I’ve never...ever...doubted that. I just hate what it’s doing to me; him being back in my life. I feel like I’m drowning in all this stuff from the past and that there’s no way you’ll be able to pull me out of it. Like it’s going to suck me under and you won’t stand a chance of getting me back.”

“That’s not going to happen. I won’t LET that happen.”

“I don’t know how much more of this I can take,,” she admits. “Worrying all the time about the baby and trying so hard to take care of the other kids and now this crap with Mark and him being so close to us.”

“I know it’s really overwhelming right now, Me. I know it’s a lot of things being heaped on your plate. And believe me, I am taking as much of it off as I can. And this stress with Mark is just making everything else seem even worse. But I got you. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I just need you to trust me.”

“I do. I DO trust you.”

“You got lots of help with the kids. You got me, you got Stel, Riley’s always willing to drop everything and lend a hand. And you know how much grandpa Koen loves to spend time with them. He’s always ready, willing, and able to step up.”

Managing a laugh, she pulls back and swipes at her tears with the back of her hands. “He was in fine form last night, huh?”

“He was definitely on top of his ‘shit talk Tyler’ game.”

“Everything he says, he says with love. He’s a wreck, you know. When he showed up in Dhaka. He was all laughs and jokes at first and I’m sure that was just to calm his nerves, because when he got to your room? He just lost it. Totally broke down. I’ve never seen him get that emotional since.”

“I guess he’s got a little bit of a soft spot for me. Considering I was an enormous shit head when I first met him and he threatened to beat the attitude out of me. And believe me; he tried a couple times. Tough love, yeah? He’s the guy that turned me into the solider I became. And tried to stop me from destroying myself after everything fell apart. Spent years trying to talk some sense into me. Never stuck.”

“Guess you just weren’t ready for that yet. You just had a bit more of your journey to take. I’m sorry it was as crappy as it was. That you had to go through what you did.”

“Lost my kid and my sobriety. And probably most of my sanity.”

“It’s not fair. That you had to go through so much. Starting right from you were a little boy. Not a single step of your path has been easy.”

“No. I guess it hasn’t. But every one of those steps was worth it. ‘Cause look where I am now. I’m a long way from The Kimberley.”

“Leaps and bounds,” she smiles. “Even in the last five years.”

“It was worth it. It was ALL worth it. And this? Whatever the hell THIS is? With Mark? That’s just another bump in the road we gotta get past. I just need you to trust me. That’s it.”

“I’ve always trusted you, Tyler. Always.”

“Everything’s going to be alright,” he promises, and once more gathers her into a tight, protective embrace. “I didn’t lose you in New York and I’m sure as hell not gonna lose you now. Especially not to him.”

The scrape of the screen door opening upon its track captures his attention, and he glances up in time to see his oldest son step onto the porch. Hair mussed from sleep and sticking up in several different directions; barefoot and clad in only a pair of blue, red, and white plaid pyjama bottoms. And it’s the first time that he’s noticed just how grown up that his namesake is becoming; only ten, but tall and athletically built with well chiselled ab muscles and noticeable definition in his arms and shoulders. All long limbs and torso and tanned skin; brilliant, expressive blue eyes and his once shoulder length dirty blond hair now chopped short. Despite his issues with impulse control, his diagnosis with ADHD, and his volatile temper, he always seems much older and wiser than his actual age; independent and detail and routine oriented and always willing to step up and lend a hand with his younger siblings or with chores and repairs around the house. And it’s bitter sweet; his first son after losing Austin growing up in what seems like the blink of an eye. Proud of him for the person...the man...that he’s becoming but missing the little boy he was; the one who’d be attached to his hip and who explored the world with wide eyed, breathless abandon and wanted nothing more than to exactly like his old man.

“Dad?” Worry tarnishes the ten year old’s voice; eyes darkening and narrowing as he observes the sight in front of him. “What’s going on? What…?”

“Nothing, mate. Your mum and I were just having a chat. She just got a little...worked up.”

“About what?” He finally approaches, a hand on the back of his mother’s chair as he leans in to check on her. “What were you guys talking about?”

“Just some adult stuff. Your mum’s just a little emotional today.”

“Mummy?” TJ lays a palm on her shoulder, gently squeezing and then pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Are you okay? What happened? What..?”

“I’m alright,” Esme assures him, and turns her face into his, pecking his lips. “Daddy and I were just talking and…”

“You don’t look alright. You’re crying. Why are you crying?” A mixture of panic, worry, and the beginnings of anger creep into his voice. And he fixes his father with a steely glare. “What’s wrong with mum? Why is she crying? What were you talking about that would upset her?”

“Just a couple serious things,” Tyler informs him. “ADULT things. Things you don’t need to worry about.”

TJ’s jaw clenches. “What did you do to her?”

“I didn’t do anything. Why would you…?”

“Daddy didn’t do a thing,” Esme assures him. “Like he said we were having a chat and things turned a little serious and I got emotional. That’s it. He didn’t do anything or say anything wrong. I got upset and I started to cry and he was just trying to comfort me. That’s it.”

“Are you sure? ‘Cause if something else happened…”

Turning sideways in her chair, she clasps her son’s face in her hand. “Tyler James. Listen to what I’m saying. Daddy did nothing wrong. I started crying and he got worried and he was trying to calm me down. He didn’t say or do anything. He was trying to help. He wanted to cheer me up. That’s all.”

“Mummy…”

“That’s all,” she insists. “I appreciate you worrying about me, but we’re telling the truth. I just got emotional about some things we were talking about. That’s all. Daddy would never...EVER...do anything to make me cry. Unless it’s happy tears.”

TJ sighs heavily. “If you’re sure…”

“I’m sure. But thank you.,” she presses a kiss to his lips and smooths a hand over his unruly hair. “I’m okay, baby man. There is nothing for you to worry about, okay? And good morning, by the way. Thought for sure you’d sleep in a lot longer; all the running around you did after the littlest yesterday.”

“Dad said we could go surfing. Before everyone else got up. I set my alarm.”

“Well the water looks perfect today. Or as you would say, the waves looking ‘bitchin’.”

Excitement replaces worry and simmering anger. “Dad checked the surf report last night. They said it was going to be perfect conditions. And that it could just be us. I like when it’s just us. It’s a lot more fun. And we sit on our boards and talk. A lot.”

“Then I’ll let you guys get to it. I’m sure you have a lot of boy stuff to talk about.”

Tyler pushes himself to his feet as his wife slips out of her chair; hand on the small of her back as she stands. “You good?”

“I’m good,” she assures him, standing on her tiptoes to return his kiss. “I’ll take the dirty stuff in and I’ll grab some towels and throw them out here for you guys. And maybe I’ll even crash on the couch; until the rest of the hoodlums wake up.”

“If you need anything, you know where to find us.”

“I’ll be fine, Tae. Everything will be fine.”

Nodding in agreement, he offers a small smile and presses his lips to her temple. Watching as she gathers the dirty dishes, mugs, and cutlery and carries them into the house. TJ gallantly holding the door open for her; a broad, beaming smile spreading across his face as she plants a kiss on his cheek.

“IS mum okay?” The ten year old turns to him once Esme is out of ear shot.

“She’s fine, mate. She’s just going through some stuff.”

“Bad stuff or…?”

“Just some stuff. Nothing you need to worry about. You’re mum’s alright. And you know I’d never hurt her, yeah? That I would never...ever...say or do anything to break her heart. Tell me you know that.”

“I do. But you used to. Do stuff like that. I know I was just little then, but…”

“I’m not that guy anymore, TJ. I haven’t been him in a long time. I would never hurt your mother. I love her in ways you can’t even begin to understand. And I would do anything to make her happy and to keep her safe.”

“Is there a reason to? Keep her safe?”

“No,” Tyler lies. “There’s not.”

*****

From the moment he first held Austin in his arms, Tyler had pictured these moments; introducing his son to surfing and forming a tremendous bond over their shared love of the water. Teaching him how to not only handle the waves, but to give himself over to the release and the escape that comes not with conquering them, but being submissive to them; gliding smoothly and confidently yet remembering that nature always has the upper hand and should never be questioned or underestimated. When he had first found out he was going to be a father, he’d often daydream about sharing his passions with his offspring; surfing, fishing, hiking, and camping trips. But military life had been all consuming, as had been his commitment to it; putting fighting the battles of others higher on his list of priorities than his wife and soon to be born child. And having the baby home hadn’t changed a damn thing; signing up for extra tours whenever he got the chance, putting his be all and end all into the army and having nothing left to give his family.

For his fifth birthday, he’d gifted Austin with two things; a custom made surfboard and the promise that he’d change his ways and become the dad that his kiddo needed and deserved. Neither of things ever came to fruition; Austin diagnosed with cancer just three weeks later and the board going unused and Tyler’s promise dying the moment the news had been dropped into their laps. And when Austin had died, so had all of the dreams and the hopes that Tyler had had as father; the loss tremendous and robbing him of both his heart and soul. The grief composed of many things. Not just the loss of his boy, but of all of those expectations, and fantasized moments, and the memories that would have been made during them.

He never dreamed that he’d ever be a father again; his marriage and his military career both disintegrating and finding him throwing himself headlong into mercenary life and a battle with booze and drug addiction. Wracked with so much guilt, regret, and profound grief that he truly believed he deserved his self imposed exile from the rest of humanity. He was a monster and not deserving of any form of a normal life; taking the most dire and dangerous of jobs in hopes one would kill him, drinking and popping pills in hopes of not just numbing the physical pain, but the mental anguish as well.

In the blink of an eye and in the midst of his deepest and darkest moments of suicidal ideation, everything changed. In the form of a tiny, tattooed and pierced brunette with the most beautiful smile and dark eyes he’d ever seen. Since then, every blessing has come with great sacrifice. Ones that he’s willing to pay over, and over, and over again for even a slice of the life that he has now. It’s a normalcy that isn’t normally rewarded to guys like him; a wife and children and a beautiful home in an even more beautiful place. So many bridges burned and toes trampled upon; exuberant coin in your pocket in exchange for scars that litter your body and enemies within all four corners of the world. It’s generally a short existence; catching a bullet in the midst of all the action or a bodyguard or a mercenary -contracted to take you out- catching you by surprise. Most never even attempt any form of domesticity; preferring the company of random women -or men- instead of committing and settling down. The job follows you. Stays with you. Remains embedded in your soul. Accompanied by long lists of evil people you’ve crossed and will forever seek revenge, debts that you can never repay and will forever be held over your head, and addiction and mental health issues. You’re never fully away from it; it will follow you wherever you go, keep you up at night, have you constantly looking over your shoulder or being wary of the smallest of bumps in the night. It’s easier to not get someone else tangled up in the madness; half the time it’s hard just to keep yourself alive, let alone a spouse and children. They’d be the first to pay the price for your misdeeds, and bringing them into that kind of world would be considered not just risky, but selfish as fuck.

Sometimes he still sees himself that way; a weakened, pathetic version of himself that opted to put targets on the backs of others instead of just dealing with his issues and his loneliness in a healthier, SOLO way. But love had found him. Somehow. In the midst of all the darkness and ruin and decay of his life, something...someone... so beautiful and bright had stumbled into his path. She’d effortlessly and easily saw past the hardened and fearless facade he’d created through an endless cycle of self loathing, sorrow, and regret; slowly chipping away at the walls he’d built around the remains of his heart and making him feel alive again. Opening his eyes to a different future and sparking a longing and a desperation and a hunger that he had felt to his very soul. Wanting her...ALL of her...in a way he’d never wanted anyone else. Trusting her in a way he hadn’t since the death of his mother; finding himself both soothed and ignited by the compassion in her voice, the kindness in her eyes, and the gentleness of her hands whenever she touched him.

His heart had been hers long before he’d ever gotten the nerve to tell her so. And he’d been both terrified and filled with hope when he’d even dare to think about a life...a future...with her. He has always felt that his time with her has been far more than he deserves; that kind of existence reserved for those who are morally stronger AND superior. But for some reason, fate had smiled upon him; giving a woman that so plainly wears her heart upon her sleeve and remains stalwartly devoted and faithful. Bearing him seven...eventually eight...children and building a home and a life beyond anything he could have ever imagined.

He’d spent the better part of an hour feeling tremendously grateful and unabashedly proud as he’d watched part of that life so confidently handling the waves below and around him. Ten years old but sometimes so wise and mature beyond his years; misunderstood by so many and not given the credit or the attention that he so rightfully deserves. A fearless, tough kid with an enormous heart; so much love caught up inside him that he’s sometimes unable to express or even cope with it. Exploring the world and the elements with near reckless abandon; always looking for adventure and forever staring challenge straight in the eye. And it’s bittersweet; the act of making the memories with THIS son that his mind had created with for the boy he’d lost years before.

“What do you think it feels like?” TJ asks, as they sit side by side. A hundred yards from shore where the water is calmer; perched upon their boards with their legs dangling over the sides. “To get bit by a shark.”

Tyler glances over; noticing small inklings of his wife inside the ten year old. The way his namesake tilts his head to the side and his eyes narrow as he contemplates a question. The smooth bridge of the nose and the shape of his jaw. But he’s definitely a ‘chip off the old block’; the brilliant blue eyes and the broad shoulders and the long, lanky body, the cheeky smirk and the smile that brightens his entire face. And there’s more. So much more. A strikingly similar personality; dry witted and quick with the sarcasm and the smart ass comments. And the temper; volatile and unpredictable, always seeming as if it’s on a permanent, slow boil.

“I don’t know, mate. But I can guarantee that it does NOT feel good.”

“Mick Fanning...the surfer that mum likes...he got attacked by one. During a competition. A great white. Hit him right in the face with its tail! Can you imagine? I would have been shitting bricks for sure! It would be kind of cool to see one, though. We’ve only ever seen a couple of dorsals in the water. When we’ve been hanging out on the beach. Kinda weird we’ve NEVER come across one.”

“I’d rather not if it’s all the same to you. I’ve spotted a few in my time. Long before you were even a twinkle in your mumma’s eyes. Wasn’t close enough to go one on one with ‘em. Thank Christ.”

“Sometimes I get this really weird feeling in my stomach. When we’re out here. It’s like something is just moving around in there; kicking at your insides and tugging at them and stuff. Like my body is telling me that there’s something underneath me. Maybe even WATCHING me. You ever get something like that? Where you just KNOW something is there?”

“Had that happen a lot. Always been too chicken shit to look down, though.”

“I like that, you know. That you’re not afraid to admit you’re scared of things. Lots of guys are. They act all big and bad and like nothing bothers them, but you know it’s all bullshit. You’ve never been like that. Even since I was little. You’ve always talked about being scared of things and how it’s okay to be afraid of stuff. And that we shouldn’t be embarrassed to get emotional. Cry and stuff. Do you still feel that way?”

“I do. I feel even stronger about it now. Nothing wrong with a guy being vulnerable. Doesn’t make them weak or pathetic or less of a man.”

TJ grins over at him. “Just makes them human.”

“You know, you sound a hell of a lot like your mum sometimes.”

“That’s a good thing, if you ask me. ‘Cause mum’s pretty awesome.”

“Yeah…” Tyler smiles wistfully, then glances towards the shore; his wife up from her nap and getting the littles settled for breakfast on the deck as the older kid’s lend a hand. “...she certainly is.”

TJ’s expression turns serious. “You meant it, right? When you said you didn’t say or do anything to make mum cry.”

“Everything we both told you was the truth; we were talking about some adult stuff and she got emotional. All I was trying to do was comfort her. That’s it. You know how your mum can be; when she’s feeling overwhelmed and hasn’t been sleeping well and she tries to take too much on.”

“She needs to learn how to rely on other people . And ask for help when she needs it.”

“It’s hard for her. Even after all the years she’s been with me. She finds it difficult to ask for help. Guess she’s so used to people letting her down, that she just can’t shake that part of her. We’ll just keep an eye on her and just chip in where we need to and hope for the best, yeah?”

TJ nods, then gives a bashful smile. “I’m sorry, dad. For kinda flipping out on you earlier. But I saw you kneeling in front of mummy and then I could tell she was crying and my brain just immediately went to think you’d done something wrong.”

“We’re a lot like, you and I. In a lot of ways. I tend to react a little too quickly, a little too soon. Old habits die hard. But I would never…EVER...hurt your mum. That is the last thing I want to do. Intentional or not. I love her, mate. In ways you can’t even understand. In ways I can’t even understand sometimes. I just hope that one day you get to feel that way about someone. Or close to it.”

“I just worry about her,” TJ sighs. “I don’t like when she’s upset. Especially when she cries. I hate seeing it; mummy sad. I wish I could find a way so she’d never be sad EVER again. Wouldn’t that be nice? If we could find a way to make sure mummy NEVER got sad again?”

“Yeah, mate. It would. But life isn’t like that. We gotta go through the good AND the bad. Unfortunately.”

“Mum’s been through a lot. I mean, I know you have too. But mum...I don’t know...she’s different. She’s...well...she’s my mum. I know you’re tough and strong and brave and all that. That you can handle things better. But mum puts on a good show for people I think. She lets on that she’s okay and she’s totally fine with taking care of everything one else. But sometimes? Sometimes I don’t think she’s okay at all. Do you ever think that? That she’s just pretending to be alright?”

“I don’t just don’t think. I know she’s doing it. And believe me, I’ve tried to get her out of it. But your mum…”

“And she has the nerve to call US stubborn? She is way worse.”

“She’s got a hard head,” Tyler agrees. “And in some ways, it’s a good thing. She never gave up on me. Even when everyone around her was telling her she should. She just ignored them. Had my back no matter what other people said.”

“It’s ‘cause she loves you. And you’re the first person to ever really love her. Other than her dad and he died when she was young, so ....” TJ rakes a hand through his wet hair. “...sometimes it must feel like it’s just you and mum against the world, huh?”

“I’ve felt that way. A few times. But then all you guys started coming along and our team got even bigger. I like to think we ALL have each other’s backs.”

“Of course we do. We’re family. We’re all in this together. And we’re Rakes. Means we’re tough and we don’t back down. From anyone or anything. We might be scared, but we’re still standing up for what’s right. That’s what you taught us. That even though we might be afraid, we gotta do the right thing. Always. A man isn’t measured by the things he has, but by the people he’s helped.”

Tyler grins. “Where’d you hear that?”

“I read it in a book at school. One of the grade eight kids left on the playground and I was bored and I found it and I just started reading it. I guess I liked that line for some reason. It stuck in my head. Even if there isn't much else up there.”

“Don’t you do that,” Tyler gently scolds. “I don’t want to EVER hear you do that. Talk shit about yourself.”

TJ frowns. “It’s kinda hard when everyone around you is doing it.”

“At school?”

He nods. “I’m the dumb, crazy kid. That’s what everyone thinks. Especially the teachers.”

“They ever say that to you?”

“Not to my face. But I walked by the staff room once and they were talking about that ‘Rake kid’. About how he’ll probably end up in juvenile detention by the time he’s thirteen. And in and out of jail when he’s older. You can’t tell me that it was about Takota or Declan. I might be stupid, but I’m not THAT stupid.”

“You’re not stupid at all. And I don’t want you ever calling yourself that again. You just need some help. Find different ways to learn. Not everyone learns the same way. I was like you in school; couldn’t focus, got ignored when I asked for help, that turned into me goofing off or getting frustrated. Lots of times I put a fist into a locker or a wall. A LOT.”

“Is that why you didn’t go to college? Like mum? Is that why you went into the military?”

“I suppose that’s part of it. Guess I liked the danger and adventure of it too. Going off and fighting bad guys and getting to shoot guns and all of that shit. Never thought about actually having to kill people and what that would feel like.”

“What does it feel like?”

“Not good, mate. Not good at all.”

“Even if it’s bad people? Like that Nathan that hurt you?”

“People like him are exceptions. But for the most part? I don’t like doing it. Not even if it’s in the course of helping someone else. But sometimes…”

“You gotta do what you gotta do,” his son finishes for him. “Sometimes it’s you or them, right?”

“Exactly. And don’t worry about school, alright? I’ll give them a call. Ask for a meeting. Get things sorted and get you the help you need. And deserve.”

“Man…” TJ grins. “...they are going to shit their pants when they hear from you.”

Tyler reaches out to ruffle his namesake’s hair. “Maybe. Hungry?”

“I could eat.”

“Wanna head in? See what mum’s cooking up?”

“I don’t know." The ten year old's nose crinkles in disgust. "Do you think it’ll be edible?”

“Is it ever?”

TJ laughs. “Dad…”

“Whatever you do, do NOT tell her I said that.”

“Don’t worry…” Leaning across his board, the ten year old wraps both arms around one of Tyler’s; squeezing tightly and laying his head against his dad’s shoulder. “...your secret’s safe with me.”

[lalaith217]

This is something a little different from what I usually post, but 2x13 is one of my favorite episodes and I have a lot of thoughts and feelings about this one. It's a sort of "She thinks, he thinks"-type of thing and it's pretty long, but I hope you enjoy.

Waking up

When Chloe wakes up, she feels his presence in the room before she even opens her eyes. It doesn't surprise her that he's here though, she's actually been waiting for him for a couple of hours now, wondering when he'd show up. The nurses told her that there had been "complications" and, ever the realist, she had known they had been downplaying the severity of her situation. She had seen what the professor's poison had done to the first victim and as soon as her nose had started bleeding, fear had overcome her. But now, she felt okay, still a little weak, but fine. The nap she had just woken up from had helped. And him sitting at her bedside helps too.

"Well. Look who's back. You didn't die after all. That makes one of us."

She opens her eyes and a smile plays on her lips. He's making even less sense than usual, but she doesn't really care right now. She is happy he's here, at her side, and that whatever he did to save her has worked. Does she really need to know what it was? There is time for that later, he'll probably tell her in excruciating detail anyway. And then, they'll talk about what she really wants to talk about right now. Them.

"I heard you saved me."

She puts her hand on his hands, both of them by her side as if he had been praying (which is ridiculous, she knows). She isn't sure, but, for a moment, she thinks he wants to pull back, looking down at both their hands. But he doesn't and his skin feels warm and for a brief moment, her mind flashes back to their dinner in his penthouse. She had taken his hand then, too, and he had looked at her almost the same way: a mix of surprise, disbelief and, most of all, warmth. This time however, a fourth feeling creeps in his eyes that she can't quite place. It is not a good feeling however.

"Well... much as I'd like to take all the credit, this one was a... a team effort."

She is a little surprised he doesn't want all the glory for this one, but a part of her tells her that this one hit way too close to home for him to be making jokes. She remembers his face when her nosebleed wouldn't stop and when she showed him the puncture mark that the professor's needle had left. He hadn't made any jokes then and when Lucifer stopped making comments and jokes, things were as serious as they got.

"You look heaven sent."

The last time he talked to her before things got worse, he looked more worried than she had ever seen him. He put up a front, fighting with Dan over bringing her to the hospital (which she explicitly asked him not to do), but she knew her partner. And she knew things were getting worse by the minute. When she had collapsed at that party, she had known that maybe her reluctance to go the hospital was not the best way of dealing with things. But when she saw Lucifer all worried in that hospital room, she knew things were going seriously wrong.

Still, she refused to give up and was more worried about what Trixie would think. As Lucifer always told the truth, she asked him if her being strapped to this hospital bed, tubes going in and coming out of her, would scare Trixie. He answered in his typical Lucifer fashion, making a quip, she thought, but they way he looked at her, she somehow knew he was not making a joke. Her heart skipped a beat, but the moment passed and Lucifer left. She didn't see him again, even when she was seizing, and she missed him. If things were as bad as they seemed, why wasn't he by her side? But she knew he was doing everything in his power to save her. And he had.

It had taken her a while to come to terms with her feelings for him. A few weeks, hell, even a few days ago, she had been sure that they were not going to work. They were just too different, she had thought, well, she still believes that they are very different people. But when he had sent her away and saved those college kids, she had realized that, despite that all being true, despite everything, the thought of him hurt, the thought of him not being around annoying her every day, had scared her more than she had have ever thought.

And then he had just walked down the steps as if nothing had happened, a smug smile on his handsome face, and she couldn't believe he didn't even have a scratch. But more importantly she had realized that she couldn't fight what she was feeling for him anymore. Nor did she want to. On instinct, she had hugged him tight, and, with hesitation, he had hugged her back. She suspected that Lucifer didn't have much experience with physical contact that wasn't sexual, so she didn't take his hesitation personally. How could she when the look in his eyes, full of wonder and adoration, told her everything that she needed to know in this moment. They were real, that's what she knew and damn, she wouldn't let stupid poison come between them.

"You know, this whole poisoning thing has just... really put a pause on everything that's been going on with you and I, so... should we just pick up where we left off?"

The words came out of her mouth before she could actually really think them through. She fears for a moment they might be too straightforward and he might get overwhelmed, but she is still holding his hand, his thumb drawing lazy circles on her skin and he is still looking at her with those deep brown eyes, and she just doesn't feel like holding back anymore. She has been fighting her feelings for quite some time now and she doesn't want to do it anymore.

"I think, right now, you just need to focus on feeling better, Detective."

He has let go of her hand and moves to stand up. She is surprised he is leaving right now, but she must look worse than she thought. And maybe he just needs to process. And as he said, he just wants her to get better and she can't really sleep while he's here, can she? Although... No, they have all the time in the world once she feels better. They'll figure everything out. Together.

"Would you have someone bring Trixie in?"

"Yes. Yes, of course."

He moves away from her now and she feels that so much is left unsaid. This is clearly not the time though, at least for him. But she needs to tell him, one more time, in her way, that she wants this, that she wants him. Ever since they kissed on the beach she has been struggling to tell him, in her own dorky way, how she wants this, how she wants him.

"And we'll talk. We'll talk later, yeah?"

He doesn't answer. His mouth opens, but words don't come out. She wonders why he's not really responding to her question, but maybe he just needs time to process. She still needs time to process and she is much, much better with the "touchy-feely stuff" than him. Not that that is any kind of challenge. She remembers, how he reacted the first time she told him she could be vulnerable around him. What had been intended as a way of telling him how she felt, had resulted in him acting even stranger than usual, touching her back and asking all kinds of strange questions.

She looks after him when he leaves her hospital room. She is smiling and for the first time in a while she feels better. They'll talk and figure this out, she knows they will. No more denial, no more interruptions.

**********************************

When she finally opens her eyes, his heart does a somersault. Only a few hours ago he didn't even know if she would make it and now she is looking at him with those big grey-blue eyes of hers as if nothing had happened, as if she hadn't been close to... He can't even think about it anymore. Can't think about what losing her would mean.

"Well. Look who's back. You didn't die after all. That makes one of us."

Watching her sleep, he had had time to think about what he had done. For her. Ever since he had left hell, he had been sure of one thing: he wouldn't go back to that place, not in a million years. And yet he had gone back. For her. And he would do it again. And again. But she would never know, could never know.

"I heard you saved me."

She has put her hand on both of his and, for a moment, he thinks about pulling away from her. It feels wrong for her to be touching him like this, when he knows everything she is feeling for him is a lie, a manipulation. But her hand on his feels soft and the way she looks at him now makes him feel all sorts of things. Things that he has never felt before. Things that made him go to hell for her. Literally.

"Well... much as I'd like to take all the credit, this one was a... a team effort."

Always the truth, that was what he tried to live by. Without Amenadiel, Linda, Maze and most of all his mom, he wouldn't have made it out of that place. The memory of Uriel haunts him, the way he plunged the knife into his gut, again and again. The guilt of killing his own brother kept him in his own personal hell. Only when his mom had come and reminded him of why he was down there, her, he had come to his senses.

"Chloe."

Hearing her name down there had snapped him out of his daze. The memory of her lying in that hospital bed, dying of some poison, and him being the only one who could save her, had brought him back to reality. He had to save her, his partner, his detective. There was nothing he wouldn't do to save her life.

When he had gone to her house to confront her about... nevermind... to talk to her, and saw her nose-bleed, he was terrified. They had seen what the poison had done to the student at Malibu State and the professor had just killed himself, with the recipe for the antidote in his head of course. Driving her to the next hospital was his first instinct, but when she refused to go and reminded him of how the hospital hadn't helped any of the other victims, he turned around and promised to do things her way. Sometimes she was as stubborn as she accused him of being and the annoying part was that she was usually right.

This time however, not even her refusal to give in could stop the effects of the poison on her. He was mildly surprised when she held onto his arm going down the stairs at that rich douchebag's party, usually refusing any assistance, even in high heels, but then she collapsed at the bottom of the stairs. His heart sank remembering her unresponsive in his arms, fragile, vulnerable. This could not be happening to her, not now, not ever. He could not lose her like this, not after she had kissed him like that at the beach, not after she made him feel... everything he felt.

"You know, this whole poisoning thing has just... really put a pause on everything that's been going on with you and I, so... should we just pick up where we left off?"

He hasn't even realized that his thumb has been drawing lazy circles on her skin, warm against his. Lost in thought the detective's suggestion brings him back to here and now, back to reality. A reality in which his father has put the detective into his path. A reality in which all that he has been feeling for her, all that she has been feeling for him, is a manipulation, a cruel trick his father has played on them.

"I think, right now, you just need to focus on feeling better, Detective."

He lets go of her hand and stands up, wanting to break the connection that pulls him closer to her. She didn't have a choice. She doesn't have a choice. Her feelings are not real, he reminds himself, and neither are they. But that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt and it doesn't mean he would rather stay here, with her, by her side, until she felt better. With her eyes always looking at her the way she does now, full of... emotions. Emotions that aren't real, but still emotions that she feels. And so does he.

"Would you have someone bring Trixie in?"

"Yes. Yes, of course."

Right, the urchin. Probably worried about her mother almost as much as he was. A visit from her will distract her. He has almost reached the door of her hospital room now. He'll be finally able to breathe again without her looking at him with those eyes. He will be able to remember that all of this is nothing but a bloody manipulation and not real.

"And we'll talk. We'll talk later, yeah?"

His heart does that stupid thing again when it skips a beat. She sounds so sincere and hopeful, he almost wants to turn around and kiss her senseless. He wants to tell her what that moment at Pasadena State meant to him, when she hugged him, just like that. When he could see in her eyes that she felt the same way as him. When he felt, for a few blissful hours, that they could make this work. That he... that they could be happy. He had felt invincible.

But he doesn't turn around and he doesn't tell her. He leaves her room without looking back. He has to leave, get out of here now, and he doesn't just mean out of this hospital room. How can he stay around her, when every time she looks at him, he feels like this. Feels the betrayal and the pain and... that other feeling he now pushes down, way down, as he walks along the hospital hallway, straight to the exit.

[mwolf0epsilon]

Maybe a story about Norman being a good parent?

Summary: Mindless beast or not, the Projectionist was a Polk, and the Polks did not hurt their young, or whatever they perceived as such.

You all knew it was coming inevitably...

---

[[MORE]]

     Norman's and Margarite's marriage had come as a surprise to the entire Polk family. A simple signature on a piece of paper, and a pair of battered rings that had belonged to Nanna and Poppop Polk (gifted to him by the former who always knew he'd be a better fit for them). No fanciful ceremony with pretty dresses or suits, expensive cakes and extensive guest list.

A disappointing waste, his mama had proclaimed over the letter she'd sent as a reply to his own that detailed his status as a married man in a far off city. She'd wanted to witness the event, shed her motherly tears as one of her little ducklings became a real man ready to start a family.

But, to Norman and Maggie, the marriage wasn't a motive of celebration like his mama thought. It was insurance against further discrimination towards them. They were, after all, the black couple that lived in a quaint apartment in New York city.

Already that was a challenge of its own, as said apartment was populated primarily by white hot-blooded tenants, with only one more laying vacant for a (hopefully) friendlier family.

Their downstairs neighbor clearly hated them from sight alone, and the others were unsure how the new additions fit into their "perfect" lives in the Big Apple. If any of them were to discover that they both enjoyed the full spectrum of the gender binary, well... Accidents happened in the big city. Accidents that targeted specific minorities for some "unfathomable" reason.

So yes, as shameful as it may be, their wedding was strictly business. Rings for show, public displays of affection to dispell the gossip, and overall just the usual married life arguments in the grocery store to sell the deal (neither of them could care less about which type of sugar made the best apple pie crust, or what brand of soap was better, but it sure made the couples they passed by smile knowingly at the common domestic disputes). There was just one thing left to do to really make a statement on their relationship status.

  "Three of my coworkers are getting maternity leave. It's been a few months, I think it's time."

Children were a sensitive topic. Both Norman and Maggie wanted kids, had a vague idea of how many they planned to raise, and were quite certain they'd make beautiful and healthy younglings with one another. The question was: Was it fair to bring in chidren into a farce of a matrimony? What if one day they found their actual ideal partner?

  "Yous better be sure it's the right time darlin'..." He'd urged her to think more on the subject. "Don't want to rush things like that now, do we?"

  "I'm ready." She'd stared him in the eye with a certainty and confidence he couldn't begin to imagine. He knew she was, but was he? Was he truly ready to bare such a responsibility?

That night he relented to her wishes and they had finally consummated their marriage. Nine months later, little Nancy was born a small but relatively healthy baby. Upon seeing his firstborn for the first time ever, and then holding her gently in hands that dwarfed her little head greatly, Norman immediately understood he was ready to be a parent. And a loving one at that.

-

     In total, Norman and Maggie had five children. Three boys and two girls. Nancy was their eldest child and the more levelheaded of the bunch. The apple of her mother's eye, and her father's baby girl, she was the perfect balance of their greatest qualities and teachings. A clever and determined young girl with big aspirations for her future. She wanted to be a doctor.

Aaron was the second eldest child and the one most like his father. Clever and with an eye for detail, enough so that he had taken up an interest that fits his perceptive nature: Photography. The walls of the Polk household were filled with his works, at first done with Norman's own old and battered camera, until he'd bought the young lad his very own fancy new model.

Louise was the middle child, and the troublemaker of the bunch. She was a bit of a tomboy, and liked to scrap with the boys in her class, to the point where it wasn't uncommon to see her with several bruises and band-aids, and haphazardly taped wireframed glasses. She kept both Norman and Maggie on their toes.

Albert was the second youngest and the quietest. A little bookworm that appreciated the art of literature over anything else. He wanted to be a novelist, even at a very young age, and often shared ideas for stories at the dinner table. There was no doubt in Norman's heart that his little boy would write a best-seller one day. Maggie fretted for his social life, however, as he was the least sociable of their children. Far too shy.

Finally the youngest child was Willard. An outspoken young toddler that was definitely as confident as his mama. A little tot with a very big personality indeed, that Norman couldn't wait to see grow up into yet another fine young boy. If any of their children was to ever get what he wanted in life, it'd definitely be Will.

Truly there was nothing in this world that Norman loved more than his offsprings, and indulging in their interests was always an adventure. One to be shared with three other members of the family.

The vacant apartment had been occupied by Norman's younger brother, Alfred, and his own two children. By then almost all their neighbors (minus the one that hated them from day one) had warmed up to them. So another set of friendly faces was a good addition to their home life.

Norman absolutely loved watching over his nephew and niece, especially because his children were delighted to have other kids around their age to play with.

It reminded him of being back home in Louisiana, his own brothers and sisters sparring with him and playing whatever games they could come up with on the spot. Watching Louise and Nelson tumbling about fighting as equally dirty as the other, really stirred up some good memories he had of his older sisters.

"Bite her Nelson! Bite her!" Lydia cheered as her older brother pinned their cousin to the ground.

"Louise tug on his ears! Pummel him!" Aaron called out to his little sister, encouraging her to fend off her opponent.

"Lydia and Aaron! What I tell y'all 'bout encouragin' yous's siblings t'fight all nasty?!"

"Not to...?"

"Exactly."

Granted some play-fighting needed to be monitored when most of the audience were enablers, and neither his middle child nor his nephew had any qualms sending each other to the hospital. They were still learning about consequences after all.

Still, there wasn't anything else in the world that built better character than teaching the children that they were equals to one another in all their shared activities. Respect was an important lesson to be learned. One Norman wished every parent taught their child.

The world would be a better place otherwise...

-

Sometimes the Projectionist would inevitably be unable to fend off sleep. The exhaustion would wear it down and give way to the nightmares of a life it could barely remember. Then it would wake up and scream, trying to rid itself of heinous visions of itself ripping its offsprings apart.

Norman Polk would reawaken inside its brutish body and lash out, hoping to either physically fight away his own broken psyche or perhaps cripple the Projectionist so that it could never fulfil these dreamt up acts of violence.

A Polk was all about family, and the thought of becoming the sort to bring harm upon his own children... Well, Norman had heard the stories. Knew why Poppop was such a taboo topic. He did not want to be the man besides his Nanna in the portrait above the fireplace... One he'd resembled if his eye wasn't wrong and he'd grown out his beard...

The Projectionist didn't have the mental faculties to understand this distress however, but it seemed to recognize that what it saw in dreams was bad. That what it did to the vermin, it should never do to those innocent little youngsters that looked at it with love instead of fear and hatred. So... Why did it do it in dreams? Why did it kill when it wanted to be docile? The children were not a threat, so why...?

It made no sense... But it didn't much care for elaborate existential crisis like that. Norman's consciousness would freak it out, but ultimately loosened its grip and go back to being dormant. The lumbering beast resuming its tiring trek through the endless maze. A cycle that would repeat itself the next time it fell asleep.

It was in the aftermath of yet another nightmare that the Projectionist came across something completely new to it. Something small and living, and very much intruding on its space. Something that very vaguely looked like it...

A living being with a body similar to the ones the horrible botched critters that ran around in packs had, yet with no visible imperfections to it. Its head though... It was kind of like a projector, but not. Square in shape, with a lens, a tube, dial and something very round that kind of looked like a big ear. A camera, like the one Aaron had gotten for his birthday.

It seemed to have gloves, shoes and a belt that sort of looked like the speaker lodged in the Projectionist's torso, but it was hard to tell since the strange being was on the ground flailing about like a dying fish.

The towering amalgam stared at the tiny new thing in dumbfounded silence, unsure how to react to such a strange discovery, until it realized why the thing was flailing about to begin with.

One of its legs was pinned under a crate that appeared to have fallen from a nearby stack, and the Projectionist could tell the limb was broken. Nearby lay a series of Ink Hearts that had been resting on the fallen crate.

On any other occasion it would have simply walked over, raised one heavy foot, and crushed the intruder's skull for daring to try to steal from it. This time however, was completely different... Something primal was urging the Projectionist to do something completely alien to its usually aggressive nature. Something instinctive.

The poor creature grew agitated upon finally noticing the Projectionist's presence as it approached, but its broken limb ensured it stayed put even after the crate was picked up and tossed aside. It shook fearfully once the Projectionist knelt down to pick it up by the torso. It stopped shaking once it was brought to rest against the much larger beast's chest, cradled gently like an infant. The Projectionist rumbling softly so as to reassure it that no harm would befall it.

The little creature, with a head that was not a projector but a distant relative of a sort, stared up with its own dark lens before reaching out to gently pat the Projectionist's "face". It seemed to understand its intention to help it, rather than exterminate it.

The lumbering beast carried on in its path, now carrying a most precious cargo. It would find something to help treat the injury and then it would begin teaching this newly adopted offspring to survive in the studio.

Mindless beast or not, the Projectionist was still a Polk, and the Polks cared for their younglings. This tiny sentient camera was its child now, and the beast would protect it from the horrors of this horrid studio.

[hellimagines]

Sunbird (Part Two) -- Jason Todd

*My masterlist link can be found in my blog description*

Summary: Y/N wakes up after the bomb, and after Jason’s return she has to deal with the retaliation.

Warnings: Emo Bruce Wayne, angst

Pairing: Jason Todd x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,500+

Part One

A/N: Me? Disappearing for three weeks after impulsively creating another series? Wild. The beginning is a little rocky, but still, let me know what you think!

~Two weeks following the bomb~

Her whole body felt like it was on fire, flames licking the inside of her veins with each breath she took. However, as Y/N pried her sleep-crusted eyes open, she realized that she wasn’t in pain because of it. It simply just didn’t feel right. She was laid flat on one of the nursing beds in the BatCave, with IV’s in both arms, a tube down her throat, and other medical equipment enclosing her. Unable to lift her arms to properly find the source of the fire or to yell out for anyone, Y/N groaned in pain in hopes of someone hearing her.

Someone did hear her, but it wasn’t someone she was expecting. “Fuck, she’s awake,” Dick cursed, startling out of his chair to press a button on the wall beside her bed. “Hey, don’t move, Alfie’ll be here in a sec’, okay?” Y/N weakly nodded, wincing at the pain that jostled in her throat. Dick hushed her, petting a hand down her face to move away some sweat-slicked strands of hair. She hadn’t seen Dick in nearly a year, which wasn’t uncommon for the detective of Bludhaven, but it felt weird to have him as the first person she saw.

A few moments passed with Dick simply murmuring soft words and trying to keep Y/N from shifting too much as the pain increased. But, soon enough, Alfred and Bruce were both rushing toward them, the former snapping latex gloves onto his hands. “Please keep her steady, Master Dick. This will hurt more if she jerks too much,” Alfred instructed, gently placing the palm of his hand against Y/N’s throat. 

Dick did as he was told, holding onto the younger girl’s shoulders to keep her down, while Bruce stood to the side with furrowed brows. “You’re gonna be just fine, Miss Y/N, this’ll be over in a moment,” Alfred hummed, before he was pulling the tube out without warning. Instinctively, Y/N jerked, wanting to fight against the pain in her throat as she yelled out, but Dick kept her from moving. And, as Alfred had said, the tube was gone in only a few seconds, leaving her able to gasp for air while choking and coughing on her own spit. Dick helped her into a sitting position as Alfred fluffed the pillows up, checking her vitals as her hacking calmed down.

Dick’s eyes caught Bruce’s across the bed, silently motioning him to come over, which Bruce began to do. But, he stopped short at the girl’s next words; “Where’s Jason?” she croaked while massaging her throat, before looking up at the older men. “Is he okay?”

Alfred turned his back, busying himself with putting away unneeded medical supplies with shaking hands. Dick looked up at Bruce, pleading for guidance before the older took a step back, shaking his head. “Bruce-” Dick tried, reaching out a hand for the other. Instead, Bruce shook his head and turned, walking away from the others.

“Dick, what happened?” Y/N whispered, dread filling her gut as she felt the tension cover the room like a cloud of smoke. “Please, where’s Jason?”

Dick took a deep breath, “Do you remember what happened?”

“Yeah,” she nodded with heavy breaths, “Joker used me to lure Robin and Batman, but Jason ran in without thinking, got trapped. Then we were tortured, well… Jason got the brunt of it, before… before the bomb went off.” 

“Do you know how you survived?” Y/N shook her head. “When you were a baby, Joker wanted to make you like him, as much as possible at least. But Harley drew the line at the chemical vats, electrocution, and all the other stuff they did to themselves. So, when there was that giant Arkham break ten years ago, Joker had grabbed a whole bunch of random shit from the experiment and confiscation rooms,” Dick explained, taking a seat beside her bed. 

“How do you know all of this?” Y/N questioned.

“Miss Quinzel stopped by when she heard what had happened. She’s still in hiding, but she thought you had died. I must admit, I feared for Master Bruce’s safety for a moment,” Alfred chuckled, despite the sorrowful look on his face. “She told us everything and explained why you hadn’t.”

“Jason’s dead. Isn’t he? You’re only talking about how or why I survived, not him.”

“Always did rival my detective skills,” Dick huffed, unable to look Y/N in the eyes anymore. “When Bruce got there, Jason… Jason was already dead. You were unconscious on top of him, with your fingers against his neck, checking for a pulse I think.” Memories began to filter into her head, ones her mind had blocked immediately after the bomb. Freeing herself from the charred zip ties, crawling over burning metal and wood, collapsing beside Jason, his lips trying to form her nickname one last time, before feeling his heart stop and his eyes go blank. Y/N’s heart ached at the memory, and she choked on a sob that she refused to let escape.

“And on fire,” Alfred added, grabbing ahold of Y/N’s hand as he watched the despair fall over her face. “Harley didn’t know what exactly Joker did to you when you were younger, he never told her the full extent. But whatever he did, insured your immunity against most things. You still bruise, bleed, and break, but those things are harder to kill you than most people. However, I don’t suppose he expected a bomb to fit into that category. So, while you were still burned and in a coma, you survived and healed within days.”

Y/N looked down at her arm, trying to block out the memories again, and noticed the subtle, red glow beneath her skin. The only scars on her arms were of old cuts, bullets, and other injuries. But not a single burn scar laced her skin. “Why didn’t it leave a scar?”

Dick chuckled at the question, having expected her to ask more about Jason, and closed his eyes briefly. “Fire seems to be your best friend. We had to keep a fire extinguisher and buckets of cold water on standby for the first week because whenever you got hot, your skin would spark and catch fire. That,” he pointed a finger to an abandoned charred bed near the corner of the room, “was your first bed.”

Y/N gave the bed a brief glance, before staring back down at her arm. The feeling in her stomach had yet to go away, now filled with grief she didn’t know how to handle. “Are you… are you sure he’s gone? I could’ve been wrong, maybe his heart only stopped for a second, maybe he’s still alive, I’m sure he’s fine-”

“Y/N,” Alfred whispered, the absence of the ‘Miss’ causing her to stop. “Jason’s dead. We haven’t had his funeral, wanting to wait for you to wake up, but he’s gone,” he said softly, rubbing a calloused thumb over the back of her hand.

“I’m so sorry, kid,” Dick choked, letting his forehead fall against her arm as he squeezed his eyes shut. “He didn’t deserve this.” 

She looked between the both of them, tears falling over despite her reluctance. “I-” she began, before pausing and shaking her head. “What if Joker comes looking for me again? What if he comes after all of you next? I can’t lose anyone else, I have to leave.”

Dick shook his head, “It’s already been taken care of. The world thinks Y/N Napier is dead, and that Robin survived. We won’t go public with Jason’s death for a few months to keep shit from hitting the fan. That’s why Harley was here, she thought you had died. Joker even… he even sent Batman a ‘Sorry for your loss’ card.” His voice was dejected, feeling sympathetic for the younger girl on the bed.

“The second I left, he stopped caring about me. I’m not surprised,” she grumbled, wiping her eyes roughly. “Now what? I was only the girl Robin protected, nothing else. With me supposedly dead, and Robin, what do I do?”

“Don’t worry about Robin, we’ll take care of it. But you’re more than just Robin’s ward. You’re smart and strong, there’s plenty for you to do. Whether it’s taking up a mantle, helping out around here, or making a new name for yourself, you’ll find something. We’re not throwing you away, Y/N. You’re family.” 

Y/N listened quietly as Dick talked, absentmindedly running her fingers over her arm as he did. Everything Dick and Alfred were telling her was soaking into her like a sponge; the information was there, but she wasn’t able to process much of it. She knew how cruel the world could be, she was the Joker’s daughter after all, but it still wasn’t fair that Jason was taken from her. That she had to live without him, knowing that it was her fault he was dead. Alfred continued checking her wounds and body temperature as Dick filled her in a few more things (such as Bruce’s refusal to take a break and Batman’s wavering moral code), but Y/N could only listen numbly. She had to figure out her next step, and for the first time in a while, she had to figure it out without Jason by her side.

-- 

It took nearly a year for Y/N to completely recover and get ahold of her powers. She no longer had to carry around a fire extinguisher, and spare ones no longer crowded random rooms in the mansion. The only time her powers would act out was when the temperature around her crept above 80°; needless to say, hot weather and heaters were her kryptonite (but she wasn’t allowed to say that around Clark). She also discovered a new power alongside her… combustion skills- she had the ability to make people feel as though they were burning inside. There were no physical effects, and it couldn’t kill anyone, but the pain was definitely there. Also during that year, a small funeral was held for Jason at Gotham Cemetery, consisting of Y/N, Dick, Alfred, and Bruce. Bruce hadn’t stayed for long, with Alfred following shortly after to keep an eye on him. Y/N and Dick remained until the sun began to set, sitting in comfortable silence and staring at the headstone.

It only took two more years after that for Y/N to grace the streets of Gotham as Nightwing’s sidekick, Sunbird. It was the nickname Jason had given her after she had admitted that being with him was the freest she ever felt while they were sitting on top of Wayne Enterprise, watching the sunset. At the time, Jason didn’t know that there was an actual bird called sunbird, he just liked the way the words went together when he thought of her. And now, with Jason gone and her newfound abilities, the alias stuck. She would have been Batman’s sidekick, but there was a new, scrawny genius taking over Robin and Bruce still couldn’t look her in the eye without seeing Jason’s body. So, Dick had taken on the job of training her while Alfred created her battle-ready, fireproof suit, with built in cooling technology to keep her from overheating. It was a grey bodysuit with red down the back of her arms and over her upper chest, creating an abstract wing design, paired with a red domino-mask. Being Sunbird and racing across rooftops with Nightwing or Robin, and the occasional Titan or other vigilante, gave Y/N the freedom she had been chasing her whole life. 

Now, six years after Jason’s death, that freedom was about to be torn away.

“You can’t keep me locked up, Bruce!” Y/N’s screech filled the Cave, causing Tim to wince from his spot on the nursing bed. They were all still in their suits, reeling and arguing with the fact that Jason was alive and what to do next. 

“You’re the reason he’s back, if you go out there who knows what he’ll do,” Bruce argued, his voice steady yet tinted with anger. “He could’ve let slip that you’re alive to anyone. It’s not safe.”

Y/N let out a yell of frustration, slapping the bag of ice she had been holding into Tim’s stomach as she stalked forward. “This is Jason we’re talking about, he won’t hurt me,” she snapped, pointing a finger at Bruce. “He knows what Joker did to me, he was there half the time, saving me. He’s not going to go blabbing off to everyone and their fucking mom, knowing that it could result in me actually dying. Just because he has a different alias and kills the occasional drug lord, doesn’t mean he isn’t one of us anymore.” 

“That’s exactly what it means-”

“Master Wayne, I suggest you take a break.” Alfred’s voice, the calmest in the room, caused the two bickering vigilantes to immediately silence. Bruce was still breathing heavily, looking down at the younger girl with conflicting emotions, while Y/N stared up at him with narrowed eyes, ready to keep fighting. “You’re both upset, as I assume we all are, but arguing over Master Jason’s role in our family will do us no good in figuring out our next step.”

“Alfie’s right,” Dick sighed, wedging himself between Y/N and Bruce. “B, let’s go let Gordon know about the takedown tonight.” Putting his hands on Bruce’s shoulders he turned the older man around, giving Y/N one last look before guiding Bruce out of the Cave. 

Once the door was shut Y/N collapsed onto the edge of Tim’s medical bed, holding her head in her hands. “Jason’s more part of this family than I am, Bruce can’t just say stuff like that.”

“You are a part of this family,” Tim said, allowing Alfred to poke at his ribs to find the broken ones, “he’s just upset, you know how he gets.”

She murmured, “that doesn’t make it okay,” before lifting her head. She looked over at Tim, watching how Alfred wrapped bandages around his torso and applied more ice to his side. 

It was quiet for a few moments, before Alfred spoke, “if you plan on going solo, at least make sure one of us knows what you’re doing.” Y/N chuckled, flashing him a cheeky smile. “Better yet, take Master Tim or Dick with you.”

At that, both birds scoffed out a laugh. “Yeah right, he’d kill me on sight, same with Dick. No offense, Y/N, but you’re own on your own,” Tim huffed, earning a slap on the shoulder from Alfred.

Y/N laughed loudly and shook her head. “You’re right, no offense taken, baby bird. I have to do this on my own, there’s something off about him right now. Throwing the original and the new Robin at him won’t end well. I can handle myself, he won’t hurt me; no matter what Bruce says, Jason Todd is still under that helmet.”

--

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[vagrantblvrd]

I’m like. @miss-ingno had the gall to plant an idea in my head regarding the androids in ~space AU, and then this? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

Jeremy’s this promising soldier from one of the outer colony worlds, right? Got caught up in the fighting when it came to his home planet and when it moved on he went with it. (It’s how things work, when you sign on with the military.)

Left his family and friends behind – those that survived the years of fighting – and did his best not to look back.

His unit got sent into a fight they didn’t stand a chance of winning and he’s one of the few who made it out (mostly) alive.

Was going to be out of things for a while thanks to his injuries, necessary physical rehab if he hoped to regain his mobility and such and was brought to a facility.

Big shiny thing smack dab in the middle of nowhere, edge of an asteroid field or something like that. Minerals and such in the floating hunks of rock out there that played merry hell with sensor readings and the whole damn thing spread out across several hubs.

Weird that it looked like you could isolate entire sections, maybe jettison them from the main assembly if there was a safety issue/breach, you know?

But it’s an old science research hub that’s been repurposed under new management, so no need to worry about that

Really.

That said, they bring him and a handful of people in similar situations there because there’s a researcher there, you see, a Doctor.

Only one, they’re told. Everything else is used as a forward base/medical facility these days since it’s so far out. (Hand on heart.)

Can work miracles and paranoid about her work and too valuable not to humor, or so they’re told. She’s come up with incredible new techniques and therapies and whatever else that might get them back on their feet faster and since the military’s put so much money into Jeremy and his fellow soldiers as it is, makes sense to try to salvage what they can if possible.

He and the others signed a contract, you see, and several years left to it and a whole lot of money down the drain if they can’t fight for them anymore, so.

It checks out as far as Jeremy’s concerned, worried about being able to send money home to his family to help them rebuild what they’ve lost until their planet recovers financially. (Won’t be like it was, but better than it is and worst case scenario enough to move somewhere better, last resort and all.)

Some nights Jeremy gets restless, wanders the facility as far as his security clearance allows him. Recreational floors and viewing stations where he gets to stare out at the asteroid field, watch the cargo shuttles and ferries and whatnot beetle about between the hubs.

Workers out on maintenance checks and minor repairs, flitting here and there. Scuttling across the surface of the hubs and connecting access ways/tubes.

Goes down to the gym and trains with one of the generic robot frames. No personality to them, just core programs and protocols and impersonal as hell.

Great for the times you know what you’re doing and just need a sparring partner or spotter or whatever, and Jeremy jokes about having a favorite, right? This older model, scratched up paint job that looks like it might have been around since the place was commissioned. (Or maybe the facility was built around it, whichever.)

Anyway, one of those nights he runs across this guy, right?

Skinny fuck running around like he knows he shouldn’t be where he is and all that, and Jeremy is like !!! because he knows there are a lot of people out there unhappy with the situation with this war(s) and the military and all that. That this used to be a top sekrit, hush hush facility where Questionable Things took place.

But then the company behind it got a new CEO and so forth and so on – there was a whole Thing about it over the news and such – and they’ve moved in a new direction since then. Been transparent about things best they can and totally on the up and up now, cross their hearts and hope to die and all that.

Still a lot of suspicious people out there, though, you know?

Lot of cargo transports and all that in and out of the facility that one of those suspicious people might be lucky enough to sneak in on. Either pretend to be someone they aren’t or manage to stow away, however the hell they want to approach things.

(Shit happens, Jeremy should know.)

So he follows this guy for a while, just in case.

Ready to call on security if he proves to be a problem but from the way the guy’s acting he doesn’t think he will be?

Just.

Sort of wandering, keeps rubbing at his neck every once in a while, but he’s wearing layers and has this hooded sweatshirt on and Jeremy figures it’s a nervous habit of some kind. Self-soothing and all.

Realizes that for all the wandering the guy’s doing he knows the facility, might be support staff or something with a guilty conscience and a bout of insomnia. (Doesn’t go near restricted areas and such. Just the lounges set aside for staff and patients and so on.)

Jeremy’s about to give it up, go back to his rooms and call it a night (whatever), but that’s when the guy notices him?

Clearly startled by the yelp and way they almost fall on their ass. (Weird gesture as he flings his hand out in warding gesture before falling on his ass, coughing and choking and hissing? but whatever. Reflexes can be weird, weird things in moments like this.)

Jeremy just stares at the guy who has this annoyed look on their face and Jeremy tries not to laugh but the whole situation is ridiculous, right?

Still, he helps the guy up and introduces himself after he apologizes for startling him.

And Gavin – because of course it’s Gavin – introduces himself right back.

Kind of annoyed still, but amusement’s slowly creeping in and they laugh about it and kind of wander around a bit. Chat about nothing because it’s like being a kid again before the war hit his home planet and he used to sneak out with his friends to run around just for the fun of it.

Gavin proves he does indeed know the facility because he lets Jeremy in on a few secrets, little ones.

Conference room where they forget to clear out the pastries and whatever other baked goods are brought in for the duration because they always think someone else will get it and then just...forget because projects and vidcalls and all sorts of things.

How to get into That One lounge with the best view of space around them without setting off alarms or anything troubling like that. The one not cluttered up with asteroids where you can see forever. (Or as far as your eyesight will let you.)

Have to detour through this one maintenance hallway to do it, though, but it’s not a security breach because the area outside this part is monitored as hell and the only way to get there undetected is from the inside, which lucky they already are and don’t worry about it, security will get ‘round to fixing that blind spot one day. (They’ve been saying that for years though, always something more pressing to see to first.)

Other little things like that that baffle Jeremy because kind of a big security risk???

Gavin shrugs, odd little smile because he’s not wrong, Jeremy, but people here are more concerned about trouble coming from the outside rather than the other way around. (Something about the way he says that, twist of bitterness to it Jeremy doesn’t really get? But it’s there and gone before he can say anything and not his business anyway, so. Yeah.)

Eventually they have to part ways – Gavin looking a little !!! about it before he runs off like he’s got a curfew or something, and Jeremy more huh about it because weird?

Doesn’t think much of it for a while.

Runs into Gavin from time to time on the nights he can’t sleep, amused at the fact Gavin’s the only one in the facility he’s met that he actually looks forward to seeing, in a weird way?

Like.

The people in charge of his rehab are nice enough, but they’re careful to keep things professional and he does the same because otherwise awkward?

The other soldiers are caught up in their own stuff and some are friendlier than others sure, they’re just not friends.

Gavin, though.

Different.

More and more so as time goes on and Jeremy notices little things about him. Frustration and this bitterness/anger simmering under his skin that he’s so, so careful to hide most of the time?

But some nights he’s too...tired to hide it.

Looks pale and drawn, tired, and the handful of times Jeremy tries to ask him about it, be a shoulder to lean on the way Gavin’s been for him Gavin deflects. (Sometimes more skillfully than others, but he always deflects.)

Will, though.

Ask random questions. Weird as hell all of them, some troubling. (Usually just bizarre though.)

And then!

Something happens.

An accident, something, and one of those hubs that can be jettisoned?

Is.

Just.

Atmosphere vented and bulkheads sealing it off and Jeremy and some of his fellow soldiers get to watch it burn/implode/explode whatever on viewing screens or through the view-port in one of the lounges.

Alarms and klaxons and voices on the speakers directing everyone to remain calm and head to designated safe areas while the staff get everything on lock-down until the emergency passes.

One of the hubs where the seriously injured soldiers are taken to recover. Quieter and all that, not as much activity to agitate them while they heal. (No visitors allowed, because reasons and Jeremy and the others are weirdly, guiltily relieved about that for reasons they can’t quite admit to themselves.)

Except Jeremy, okay.

Something is weird, he fucking knows it.

Slips past his fellow soldiers doing as they’re told and runs to that one lounge Gavin showed him how to get to that first night, right? Perfect view of what’s going on and with everyone in crisis mode they won’t notice if anyone’s down there.

Gets to see it all and realizes something is...off.

Couldn’t say what, but it’s there in the back of his head as he heads back to where he’s supposed to be afterward. Gets strange looks from the others who noticed him running off, but again, whatever.

He goes wandering later that night. Back to the lounge he’s not supposed to be able to get into and Gavin’s there.

Staring out the view port, hand at his throat and this distant look on his face. Isn’t startled to see Jeremy there when he clears his throat in an effort not to startle him too badly, but it’s obvious Gavin knows he’s there.

Gives him this little smile – wrong – and asks if Jeremy saw, earlier. (Did he?)

Flashes of light that didn’t match up from what he knows of the kind of accidents like that. (Accidents, ships under fire, one and the same from a different point of view in war sometimes.)

Other things that got snagged on the way out of being dismissed at seeing just another tragedy out in the black, cost of going where they don’t belong because humanity as a whole is so goddamned stupid about that, aren’t they?

See something like the vast endlessness of space and think, challenge accepted, and watch us, and never give up because they’re so fucking curious and wild and reckless with it.

Gavin sighs when Jeremy doesn’t give him the answers he’s looking for – doesn’t know what those would be, but Jeremy’s still working through what he saw himself.

Gavin shrugs and changes the subject and it’s awkward and strange and something shifts that night Jeremy doesn’t realize at first.

He doesn’t see Gavin too much after that, and times he does Gavin’s always tired.

Out of it, and sometimes there are bruises, burns. Bandages. Gavin waves it off, tells Jeremy it’s just.

It’s the way things are – work, maybe? - and Jeremy’s too wary of annoying the only one here worth talking to into shutting him out to push too hard.

And then, and then.

Gavin stops showing up altogether.

Leaves this little hidden message for Jeremy he finds a few weeks too late.

Gavin telling him he’s being transferred or something, got a job to do and it was great to meet you. Take care of yourself and watch your back when they send you out to fight again because Jeremy’s improved in leaps and bounds, hasn’t he?

Good as new, or nearly there and ready to go back out and fight a war he doesn’t believe in any more than he did when he signed up but back then it was to protect his home, his loved ones, and now -

Well.

Now.

Jeremy stashes Gavin’s message away in his belongings and makes sure to bring it with him when he gets shipped out not too long afterwards.

Fights in battles across God knows how many planets for a while there, scrapes through somehow and barely notices when the fighting hollows him out bit by bit. Pares him down to the soldier they’ve made him into, killing machine and look at him go, would you?

Gun in his hands and armor on his back and indistinguishable from the men and women fighting at his side, on and on, look at them go.

But then there’s another unwinnable fight for him, land mine or mortar and on his back in the mud and muck, blood on the outside where it has no business being. (Doesn’t even hurt anymore, and God it’s so quiet. Cold.)

Stares up at stars he doesn’t recognize and waits to die, but no, no, not today. Rescue squad plucking him out of the line of fire and to a field hospital, and from there back to a facility somewhere.

(Swears, swears, he sees flames before they lift him out of that war zone. Strange, odd. Cold as anything and purple as they wash across the battlefield, aimed at the enemy refusing to give ground even now, but he’s lost so much blood by that point no chance any of it was real.)

Middle of nowhere in a system he doesn’t know the name of. (Lost track a few back, to be honest, but that’s fine because it’s not his business knowing as long as he knows which end of his gun to point at their enemies, pull the trigger, and repeat as necessary.)

“Didn’t think I’d see you again,” Gavin says, wry little smile and tired.

Probably here when he shouldn’t be, but there’s something in his eyes that says that’s a problem for later as he watches Jeremy.

Too tired, hurt, to be much of a conversational partner but Gavin doesn’t seem to be looking for that at the moment.

Just sits there, thinking and thinking and thinking.

Things he wants to say but never gets the chance to because this woman, the Doctor from that facility where the two of them met comes into Jeremy’s room.

(He saw her once, back then. No-nonsense. Brilliant, to be sure, for all things she’d done to help Jeremy and those like him, but. Cold.)

Studies him for a moment before she looks at Gavin who sighs, gets to his feet and follows her out without looking back. (No goodbye this time.)

Jeremy gets doctors in and out after that.

Headed for a full recovery, but he’ll be out the rest of his contract.

And then?

And then.

That Doctor comes back to see him.

Looks at him like he’s not what she was hoping for and has to make do, and offers him a...it’s not even a choice, just.

Something.

A program, and chance to be on his feet faster than conventional medicine might allow, think on it. (Clock’s running, tick, tick, tick.)

Jeremy thinks on it, pain from his injuries and rehab in his future. Another facility somewhere else, grueling rehab therapy sessions and no combat pay to any of it. (Scraps to send home instead of the scraps and a little more he was able to before.)

When she comes back a few days later he says yes, and doesn’t think about what he’s signing away when she brings in all these documents for him to sign, Gavin at her shoulder and eyes shuttered.

Gets loaded on the same transport they take back to that facility from way back when. Passed through security areas he was never allowed in before. (Missing section where that one hub was and Gavin’s eyes flicking towards it as they pass, steps faltering for just a moment.)

They put him in a room, nice and simple.

Plain.

Guard on the door – precautions, they tell him, but don’t tell him for what – but he’s still too tired to question it.

Days out of surgery and sleeps more often than not. Can’t do much with the program he’s signed up for until he’s healed enough to stay awake on his own longer than a few hours.

Gavin pops in once or twice, never long though. (Stolen moments, favors wheedled out of the guard on Jeremy’s door and things Jeremy can only guess at for the scant time they see one another.)

He sleeps through most of Gavin’s visits, guilty about it, but Gavin just smiles, laughs when he tries to apologize. Calls him ridiculous, and God’s sake, Jeremy, worry about yourself.

Eventually the Doctor comes to see him again, still displeased but she explains what he’s signed for, just a bit.

All this alien tech just laying about here and there all over the galaxy, you know? (Because of course.)

No knowing what happened to the aliens who created it, but goodness, there’s just so much.

All these applications if they can be reverse engineered – clumsy, stupid humans and that curiosity of theirs, wild and reckless – and sometimes they can.

Sometimes.

There are a few such things here in this modest little facility in the middle of nowhere, and Jeremy?

He’s their newest guinea pig.

He’ll need new augments and implants – small ones, nowhere near as invasive as the ones they gave him when he signed up to fight a war – to interact with them, though. (That’ll come later, once he’s medically cleared for the surgery to receive them.)

And then!

And then he gets to learn how to use them, figure out how they work.

Training rooms properly fitted to take the abuse, and she shows him this video, you see.

Gavin in one of them and these combat training frames. Big, bulky things with heavy armor, shiny factory finishes scorched and burned. Melted in places, and the Gavin on the screen holds his hand out in the same way he did that night they met.

Only this time a gout of flame shoots out of his palm.

Purple flames, so guess Jeremy wasn’t imagining it back there in his delirium as the dropship took off in the middle of a battle.

Back of Gavin’s palm lit up like circuity, glowing violent purple like his flames, and when he closes his hand in a fist the flames die down. Show the combat training frames twisted hunks of metal, floor around them alight with purple fire that slowly flicker and go out.

“What - “

See?

No worries about how reinforced the training facilities are here if they can handle that.

Jeremy doesn’t sleep well that night because what and how and what the actual fuck did he get himself into now?

The medical doctors give the all-clear for his augment/implant surgery a few weeks later and Jeremy swears he sees Gavin’s face before they put him under.

When he wakes up everything is different.

Well, probably not, but it feels like it.

The augments/implants they gave him are...different.

Majorly, massively different.

Like they’ve carved out this space in his head, cavernous like those places he saw in holovids where Things Lurked and they warned you to stay away from.

To allow him to interface with the Things he’ll be working with, and it’s.

Unnerving. Unsettling.

His hand itches, muscle and tendons and ligaments moving around the implants there – more, of course – because the Doctor and her people have made advancements since the early days of the program.

Back when test subjects didn’t directly interface with them, had to go about like primitive apes using sticks to poke at things.

He’s told he’ll be able to call up/project what they call abilities through it the way he saw Gavin do.

No telling what it will be because different people have different affinities, so that’s a bit terrifying, not knowing what to expect. (To be honest, all of this is terrifying, but too late now.)

He heals. Goes through rehab to get him to “healthy enough to undergo the rigors of the initial interface” and barely sees Gavin in that time period.

Sent out to handle conflicts and other problems that crop up that require his abilities or training, and no time to slip away to see Jeremy even for a moment.

And then, and then.

He gets discharged from medical, given a private set of rooms.

Bit more luxurious than the ones he had here before, but only just.

No guard on his door, but all this security around the place he’d wonder at if he didn’t know how borderline legal some of this is. He’s dumb, not stupid. (Maybe it’s the other way around?)

Either way.

They bring him to a lab, show him this gadget.

Looks like a little chip, card he might have slid into his old implants but...more. (Shinier, maybe.)

Click it into place and wait and welcome to hell new test subject, congratulations on that one.

Because all that? It goes just fine, doesn’t it.

So much so they toss him into one of those specially reinforced training rooms. Go down a long corridor and through airlocks and other such fun things, and did they mention? That can be jettisoned too, if things get ugly in there, have fun!

Jeremy looks down at his hands, one with the shiny ship, the other with the shiny implants and in for a penny in for a pound or some bullshit.

Quiet before the storm (ironic, that thought of his) before he clicks it into place.

Feels the implants and everything else they buried under skin and tissue warm up – imagination or something more – sees it light up.

Feels something eeling through his mind, an Intelligence to it, foreign and alien and curious. Confused. Alive, because the Doctor and her people didn’t so much reverse-engineer as butcher.

Took what was found and cut and shaved and carved until it fit (more or less) the shape they wanted it to be, became something they thought they understood. (Smarter than them, though. Hid itself and let them hack away until they were satisfied and learned to show them what they wanted to see.)

Quiet little voice in the back of his mind, whispering to him in a language he has no hope of understanding. (Yet.)

And curious, frustrated, it pokes and prods and finds those implants in Jeremy’s hand. Recognizes them, like you do things in a dream sometimes.

Jeremy lifts his arm, opens his hand and lightning shoots out of it and that’s the beginning of the end.

They have him in that training room day after day for hours.

Learning to use his new abilities, that he can fucking fly as well as shoot lightning from his hand and where this is supposed to take him next he’s afraid to think about. (That day on the battlefield and purple flames headed towards the enemy and what, he doesn’t think, what will they do with more people like them out there? What happens to them when the war comes to an end?)

Eventually Gavin comes back from where they sent him, and of course, of course, the Doctor and her people think it would be smart to pit them against one another.

Simple training exercise and Gavin’s expression twists at that, but he steps into the training room all the same.

Meets Jeremy’s gaze, eyebrows raised and Jeremy thinks about that voice in the back of his head, how that alien language sounds more and more familiar with each passing day, closer to English. (Or maybe not. He doesn’t know.)

Wonders if Gavin has a voice in the back of his head too, but then he doesn’t have time to think because there’s a gout of fire coming at him and Jeremy reacts instinctively.

They fight (spar) until the Doctor is satisfied and calls a halt to things.

Gavin and Jeremy both exhausted and pushed past their limits and no clear winner. (He’s sure Gavin was holding back, and God knows he was because – Because.)

Gavin gets brought in to help him train, and admits to Jeremy he sometimes has trouble controlling his abilities. Fire and its nature and maybe other factors but he shrugs uncomfortably and Jeremy knows, knows Gavin has something whispering to him too.

Neither of them mention it though. (To each other or the Doctor and her people.)

They get downtime in between too, and Jeremy.

He learns that Gavin’s parents were scientists too. Worked for this company, you see. Stumbled on these ruins, once upon a time. Found this.

Lab?

Something like it, and these devices and it’s a long story, but Gavin was a kid at the time. Went with them when they were stationed on the planet to learn what they could and this.

He calls it an incident, laughs this odd little laugh as he looks down at his hand, strange scar on his palm with a matching one on the back of his hand like something went straight through.

Idiot kid poking about where he shouldn’t have and alien tech and it’s a long story, Jeremy, you can probably guess at what happened though, yeah?

Because Gavin and the Doctor and this facility. The purple flames. Everything.

No mention of what happened with his parents, and Jeremy doesn’t ask. (...No.)

Anyway, anyway.

They train and train and train, and then send the two of them out to deal with a particularly troublesome conflict somewhere.

Jungle planet and rebels and resistance and enemy forces dug in and they’re supposed to uproot them.

And they do, because what choice do they have?

Get dropped behind enemy lines and it’s horrifically one-sided what happens out there, Gavin blank-faced through it all and Jeremy realizing why over and over again as they get sent here and there and everywhere.

After a few months of that they’re brought back to the facility just as Jeremy’s on the cusp of understanding the voice in the back of his head.

Military officials and executives and a presentation. (Mission briefing.)

Pair of rogue androids and this cover story that doesn’t add up, no matter how hard they try to make it.

Accounts in the files they’re given that don’t match the story they’re being told but it’s not theirs to question, is it?

Hunt them down, they’re told, or else.

(Because, because, because. Jeremy’s family and loved ones, and Gavin’s – Jeremy doesn’t know what they’re holding over his head, just that it’s enough for Gavin to go along with it.)

And anyway, he thinks, anyway.

They’re just androids.

Takes them almost a month to catch so much of a whisper of where the androids ran to after the bloody scuffle on some backwater planet/colony.

(Strange, you know. All that blood and enough bodies to account for it, but more leading to the hangar where there was a ship hidden away and all of their people accounted for, so where did that blood come from?)

Catch the combat android by surprise, and while its first reaction seems to be to engage them, it doesn’t.

Just.

Cuts and runs, drops the packages and parcels its holding and darts into the crowd in the marketplace they found it in.

Fast as hell and agile, but it’s an android.

Stands out no matter how well it passes, and they track it easily enough, run it to some dirty little alley because they had access to all this intel on the place and memorized routes and the whatnot.

It clearly couldn’t get access to an updated map of the area and took shortcuts and the whatnot that simply don’t exist anymore. (Construction and growth and all that.)

There’s...a fight.

Fast and brutal and Jeremy gags as Gavin heats his flames, the time the android gets Jeremy on the ground, metal fist under synthetic flesh aimed for his head and Gavin yelling Jeremy’s name in fear, and the android makes this noise that sounds like pain as Gavin hits it in the side,

Controlled burst, meant to knock it back, off Jeremy and dangerously close, but they heal fast these days, don’t they?

The android snarls and for a moment Jeremy thinks Gavin’s attack wasn’t enough, but it turns and runs when faced with both of them, and Gavin -

He checks on Jeremy instead of pursuing.

Brings him back to their ship to do what he can for him.

They lose the androids, get a dressing down when they report back about the incident.

And then they go hunting, again and again and again, and all these close calls and encounters that keeps them chasing after the androids.

Jeremy doesn’t ask Gavin why he pulls his hits, and Gavin doesn’t ask Jeremy the same.

Voices in their heads, Jeremy thinks, and all the things he’s being told because, because, these things they’ve got in their heads are old. Have seen so much and know corruption when they see it. Know evil deeds.

And did Jeremy know, did he, he’s not the first test subject to be given this particular device?

(There was one, not too long ago. Incompatible, or maybe just too scared about the voice in his head and an accident that wasn’t, entire hub filled with lightning and thunder and jettisoned and the crews that went in after. Cleaned the mess up and picked up this twisted lump of metal to extract a chip that sat in a lab until they found someone else to give it a try?)

Eventually, though, eventually Jeremy and Gavin talk.

Because only so long they can chase these androids running towards something without talking about why they’re not really trying to catch them, you know?

And Gavin.

He’s been with the program and the Doctor and her people for a long time. (Since he was a kid, the Incident.)

Raised in one lab or another (watching his parents work and then an object of study himself after the incident and the Doctor) and this voice in his head for years.

Friend, partner, whatever.

Helping him with his abilities but there’s only so much it can do because Gavin’s a special case, you know? None of this tampering the Doctor and her people did, no. He’s got the original in his head, under his skin and emotions play a major part in how he uses them.

He’s learned how to control it (mostly) but he slips, here and there.

Wasn’t much of a problem, but then he met this little idiot, you see.

Convalescing soldier he met one night, gave him a right fright and lucky Gavin didn’t hit him with a blast of flame from his hand or they might not be having this talk, so think on that, would you Jeremy?

And, see.

The Doctor is a bit ruthless in the pursuit of science, because science.

Knew she was losing her grip on Gavin, that he was getting ideas and all these abilities that would have made it easy for him to finally, finally escape, but then this little idiot in Jeremy.

Easy, Jeremy hears in his head. Listen.

So he does, because he owes Gavin that much, doesn’t he?

About Gavin and this little idiot he met, befriended. (Living, breathing weakness where Gavin hadn’t had one before, too perfect not to be exploited. And it was.)

Gavin sent to handle matter when the military ran into a situation it couldn’t handle without major loss of life on their side, but someone like Gavin?

Well.

Easy enough to send him in, isn’t it?

Over and over again and always that little idiot to think about.

And then Jeremy went back to war himself, none the wiser.

Gavin still got sent out to fight someone else's war, and it could have gone on like that forever until a certain planet and a certain battle and Jeremy bleeding out in the mud and muck.

An opportunity, for the Doctor and hers, and maybe, maybe, way to get back at Gavin for thinking he could escape so easily.

“Christ.”

Gavin’s bitter laugh, because yes.

And then, and then.

Jeremy and his device and the training and now this matter with the androids, and did Jeremy know, did he know?

Gavin hears his share of gossip, you know.

The Doctor’s people who think he doesn’t care about things like that but they get bored, restless, and they talk. The soldiers he’s surrounded by who don’t give him the time of day but talk to their fellow soldiers.

All those little secrets Gavin showed Jeremy about the facility and a lifetime in places like that. (His own life and the lies that go with it.)

Of course he wouldn’t trust blindly they were being told the truth about these androids, and Jeremy please, don’t tell Gavin you bought into it?

Because something is going on, and these androids are part of it and, oh, Jeremy, this is the chance of a lifetime.

Jeremy thinks about his family and loved ones, thinks about the Doctor and her people. The military officials and company executives and this horribly complicated mess and the goddamned androids they’re chasing after. (Voice in his head he’s learning to trust despite all logic because it hasn’t steered him wrong yet.)

“I. Need to do a thing first.”

Warn his family, loved ones and hope that’s enough, because Gavin’s right.

Too much going on to ignore it, when he knows about the program they’re caught in, that the Doctor and her people hope to expand things. Pull more people into it, mass produce the device they handed Jeremy somehow, and what then?

What then?

So.

He sends a message home, and they put in a good show of chasing the androids until he gets a message back.

Laughs, because this could go so badly wrong on him and he’d lose so much, but Gavin’s right, isn’t he?

They can���t pretend they don’t know, can’t do that anymore.

Chase after the androids, but now, now it’s for a different reason.

Fight and fight and fight because the androids are desperate and running scared, but eventually, they get the chance to talk.

A whole lot of a lack of trust, but that’s to be expected and they have to work to earn it, but at least they get that chance, you know?

Michael and Ryan paranoid and wary and Jeremy and Gavin accepting it as their due, and then Matt and the idiots he’s working with (for?) and it’s.

The chance he and Gavin were looking for, and maybe something good for all of them.

[tyrusquacks]

WikiHow To Flirt With a Guy

Previous

Tuesday (Part One)

This morning TJ wakes up intentionally early. He’d even set an alarm to make sure he’d have ample time to get ready. On his way out of his room, he pauses, one hand on the door handle and glances at the list on the same spot he’d left it last night on his desk. He’d studied it for so long that he’d memorized it. There was almost no need for it, except the satisfaction of crossing out the ones he’d already tried. Since everything had gone so wrong yesterday, he might as well get satisfaction from something.

TJ finally exits the room and shuts the door behind him as slowly as possible to avoid making any noise. It’s only 6:46 AM so his sister, Amber, is still asleep, even though classes at her high school start earlier than his. The house is very quiet and the only audible sounds are coming from downstairs where his mom must be making her breakfast before leaving for a long day of work. 

He tiptoes just as carefully to the bathroom and turns on the light. One look at his face in the mirror and he knows he’s not completely awake yet. He rubs his eyes with the back of both hands, hoping it will help. Then, he turns on the faucet and fills his hands with as much cold water as they can hold before splashing it onto his face. After a quick wipe with the nearest towel, he’s ready to get work.

When he got home yesterday, the first thing he did was figure out a way to undo the fiasco of his morning attempts at flirting, not without spending a significant amount feeling guilty about avoiding Cyrus the rest of the day. It’s for the better, he’d thought to himself. I don’t wanna make this any worse than it already is. Not that it was even physically possible.

At his desk, he’d come up with a foolproof plan with no room for disastrous improvisation. Since number 3 and number 5 on the list were both essentially about style, he figured he’d try them on the same day. Three: Play with your jewelry. Five: Try different hairstyles.

The second part seems easy enough. That’s why he currently standing in front of his bathroom mirror, trying to figure out a hairstyle that Cyrus would notice, but in a good way. Usually, his hair is styled all the way with as much gel as he can get away with without it gross. He nervously runs a hand through it, unsure of what to next. Soon enough, he pulls out his phone and makes himself comfortable on the toilet seat.

After several minutes of scouring Instagram for inspiration, TJ bitterly puts his phone away, disappointed of not having found anything even worth consideration. Deep down, he knows his usual hairstyle is the only he’d even been satisfied. He’d grown so accustomed to it that everything else just looked...wrong. 

He gets up and rests both hands on either side of the sink, eyes fixed on the mirror as if his hair will magically style itself if he stares at it long enough. Suddenly, an impatient knock on the door startles him and interrupts the one-sided staring contest. His hair isn’t looking any better.

TJ’s hair: 1

TJ: 0

Before he even has time to respond, Amber starts shouting at him through the closed door.

“TJ!!! I know you’re in there and you better get out right this second.” She interrupts herself to knock again, louder this time. “You know I have to leave before you so whatever is going on between you and that tube of hair gel, you better end it now, TJ.”

TJ rolls his eyes at the last part. “Calm down, Ambs, I’ll be right out. It’s only…” He paused to check the time on his phone and instantly widens his eyes. “... 7:28!!!” he exclaims. “It’s 7:28??? How is that even possible? I was in there for like 10 minutes, I swear” he says, not as a response to Amber, but more to himself. 

Amber. He can’t afford to upset her this morning because he absolutely needs her help. So he opens the door as soon as he finishes his sentence, hoping that his older sister isn’t too annoyed yet. 

“Yes, TJ. Thank you for telling me the time. Now, excuse me, I need to get in there” she huffs, pushing him out of the way while inserting herself through the door.

“Ambs, wait” TJ manages to add before she’s fully inside. “Can you help me with something when you’re done?” He can tell that his question immediately raises suspension, but he’s thankful that Amber doesn’t dismiss him right away. “What kind of help?” she asks instead, crossing her arms.

“Uh you know... stuff. I’ll tell you when you get out but I really really need you to help me out on this one. Can you do that?” he pleads. Amber seems to think for a second; she’s definitely intrigued. “Depends. I’ll see what I can do,” she finally answers. “Thank y-” Click. And the door is closed mid-sentence. TJ shrugs. At least she didn’t say no. 

TJ heads back to his room to get dressed while he waits for his sister. He figures he’ll deal with his hair later. So much for waking up early, he thinks bitterly. But he remembers he did it for Cyrus and it’s automatically worth it. Thankfully, he has less trouble getting dressed. Staying on theme with today’s list items, he picks out one of the nicer shirts he owns. In other words, one without a basketball on it. 

He also slips into his third-best pair of jeans because it’s only Tuesday and he doesn’t wanna look like he’s trying too hard. If he learned anything from yesterday, it was that subtlety is key. And to top it all off, he picks out a pair of sneakers with green stripes to match his shirt. He doesn’t need a mirror to know that he looks good, minus the hair of course. Hopefully, Cyrus would agree.

Since Amber is still not out of the bathroom by the time he’s done, he gathers his books and homework from last night into his backpack to pass time. Sure enough, there’s a knock on the door right as he’s finishing up. He practically runs to open it, worried that Amber would change her mind if he made her wait. 

“So what’s your deal, Speedy?” she wastes no time in asking, and TJ can tell he’s piqued her curiosity. “Morning big Sis. You look rather ravishing today” he answers in a tone that’s halfway between sarcasm and flattery. “Wow, this must be serious. That was really close to actual compliment, TJ” she utters quietly, feigning concern in her voice. TJ suppresses an eye-roll, aware that it wouldn’t be helping his case. Instead, he cuts to the chase and voices his request to Amber as seriously as he can: “Ambs, I need to borrow a necklace. Preferably for the rest of the week, but if you can’t it’s okay. I just really need it for today at least.” Amber is silent for a moment. That’s probably not what she was expecting. “Do I wanna know why?” she questions. 

No way! I’m not telling you about my secret crush on Cyrus so you can go blab about it to your girlfriend. Next thing I know, it won’t be a secret anymore. 

He doesn’t say any of this, of course. TJ simply shakes his head no and tells her with a smile: “I’ll let you know if it works out.” Amber narrows her eyes at him, quickly inspecting his face in the hope of finding a hint about whatever was going on. But her brother knows the game and maintains a blank expression. Eventually, she sighs. “Fine. Let me see what I can do. I probably have one I don’t use anymore,” she admits before heading back to her room.

TJ believes her. She’s been into fashion for as far as he could remember, so he’s certain that she owns a number of accessories she no longer used. Andi would often claim her neglected possessions to use on whatever craft project she was working on: an old belt, random artificial pearls, a faded jean jacket—it didn’t matter. If Andi could use it and Amber didn’t need it, she’d take it. They’re just that perfect for each other.

Surprisingly, it doesn’t take long for Amber to come back, in direct contradiction of TJ’s expectations. She does own a lot of stuff. But to be fair, her room is way better organized than his. As agreed, she doesn’t ask any questions and simply sets the necklace before turning back around. “You can keep it,” she calls out over her shoulder. “Amber?” TJ calls back, stopping her in her tracks. “Yeah?” she answers. “Thank you. I mean it.” Her back is still facing TJ but he can tell she’s smiling. “Whatever.”

TJ looks down at the necklace in his hand. It’s a simple silver necklace with a silver ring through it. It’s perfect. He shouldn’t be so surprised, Amber never disappoints. Not when it comes to fashion anyway. Or being there for her brother in general, even if she likes to pretend she doesn’t care.

With the necklace safely hanging down his neck, TJ checks his phone to calculate how much time he has to fix his hair before he has to leave for school. When the phone powers on, the first thing that greets him is a notification for a text message sent by Cyrus four minutes ago. Cyrus who he hasn’t spoken since the morning incident.

Cyrus:

Hey, you at school yet? :)

Okay, so Cyrus isn’t mad at him, as confirmed by the smiley face. He instantly feels better.

TJ:

Nope. Are you??

TJ:

You better not be, if me being early yesterday outraged you as much as I think it did

Cyrus:

Ha. Ha. No I’m not. BUT…

TJ:

But???

Cyrus:

I was hoping you’d pick me up since you wanna wake up early anyway. A little detour won’t hurt

TJ:

Um. Pick you up. But I don’t have a car :////

Cyrus:

But you have legs. Basketball legs!!

TJ:

You’ve convinced me. Don’t move, I’m coming

Cyrus:

Uhh that’s kinda the whole point….? Not moving until you get here so we can move together

TJ:

I-

TJ:

You know what I mean

Cyrus:

I do :)

The boy smiles at the reply a moment too long. Then he remembers he’s supposed to be hurrying. Without wasting any more time, TJ pockets his phone and rushes to the bathroom to brush his teeth before he leaves. As soon as he catches a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror, he lets out an involuntary gasp. His hair. In all of the excitement, he’d forgotten about his hair. 

Unfortunately, the realization hits that there isn’t anything he can do about it now. He can’t keep Cyrus waiting; he already told him he’d be on his way so he definitely doesn’t have time to struggle with his hair this morning. Oh well. At least the rest of him looks good. In one quick motion, he runs his fingers through his hair to at least get rid of bed head. It doesn’t do much, and a few locks of hair stubbornly fall to his forehead.

And then his bag slumped over his shoulder and he’s running down the stairs. He makes a quick trip to the kitchen and hurriedly kisses his mom goodbye before grabbing an apple and taking. This isn’t normal behavior for TJ and he knows she’ll be asking him about it later. Right now though, Cyrus is his primary concern.

TJ tries to keep a steady pace as he heads towards his best friend’s house. Yet, he inevitably finds himself almost running so he can get there as fast as possible. He’s probably never been more thankful for being in good shape because of basketball. In the end, the athlete’s efforts pay off because he’s turning the corner of Cyrus’ street. And sure enough, the brown-haired boy is sat on his porch, waiting for him. 

Almost as soon as he gets into his crush’s field of vision, he stands up and throws his bag over his shoulder before starting to walk towards TJ. He knows that it’s because they’d be heading in that direction on their way to the school anyway but he can’t help but hope that maybe Cyrus wants to be around him as much as he does. The boy blushes at the thought.

“Hey Teej,” Cyrus starts when he’s close enough that TJ could hear him if he whispered, but he doesn’t go in for their usual morning hug. He immediately notices and clutches a backpack strap with one hand while nesting the other in his front pocket.

“Morning, Cy. Ready to go?” he asks with a smile. A regular smile. Not the creepy kind from last time. This seems to reassure the shorter boy who smiles back and starts walking next to him. TJ follows. They hadn’t taken ten steps when Cyrus speaks up.

“So what happened to you yesterday?” he asks in a way that’s probably meant to be nonchalant, but TJ detects a hinge of nervousness from the small crack in his voice. “You were being weird in the morning and then I barely saw you after that,” he continues. The athlete feels cornered. So that’s why he wanted to see me so early. “I’m fine, Cyrus. You don’t have to worry. I was just, um, a little stressed out, that’s all,” he explains, which isn’t completely a lie. He just can’t say what exactly was stressing him out.

The shorter boy looks up at him, trying to read his face to see if he’s telling the truth. TJ doesn’t think he’s made a verdict on the sincerity of his explanation when he asks: “Is that why you also weren’t at lunch? It kinda felt like you were avoiding me.” TJ doesn’t know what to say. Feeling the weight of his best friend’s unwavering stare is giving him an especially hard time coming up with sentences. Finally, he sighs and decides to tell him something as close to the truth as he can get without exposing his feelings. 

“Listen, Cy. I swear I’m okay. It’s just that I’m trying to figure something out right now but I can’t tell you about it until I’m ready. Before you even say it, I know that you’re my best friend and I can tell you anything. Trust me, I know. But you also have to trust that it’s best if I don’t say anything yet. But when it’s time, I promise that you’ll be the first to know.”

By the end of his speech, TJ’s heart is racing like crazy. That isn’t an unusual thing when he was with Cyrus, but if even indirectly talking about his feeling can make him so nervous, he can’t imagine what the real thing will be life. That’s basically a death sentence, he thinks. He looks over at Cyrus whose gaze hasn’t left him the whole time. At that moment, he probably realizes that he needs to say something back. “Oh. I understand. And even though you already said it, I wanna emphasize that I’m always here if you ever need to talk. You just have to ask,” he reaffirms in a voice so soft that TJ almost trips. He looks down at the boy, certain that it didn’t matter how many times he’d embarrass himself trying to convey his feelings or make himself look like a total idiot because as long as it meant he had a shot with the boy walking by his side, he’d always keep trying. “Thanks, Cy,” is his only reply.

“You don’t have to say if you don’t want to but are you dressed like this because of your… stuff?” Cyrus asks in a teasing voice, deeming the question appropriate since the tension between them had completely dissipated. “Dressed like what?” TJ feigned confusion. “You know, like that,” Cyrus answers, vaguely motioning in his general direction. “Like… nice. It’s only Tuesday. There’s no reason to look this good on a Tuesday.” Cyrus mumbles that last part but he definitely hears it if the pink on his cheeks is any evidence. He just said I look good, he thinks. This must be working.

“Yeah I mean, you do. Not that you don’t look good the other days, but today it looks intentional,” he continues. Oh wait, did I say that out loud? “Yes. And that too,” the boy chuckles. “I would ask what’s going on but I’m assuming it’s your stuff again,” he adds, thankfully. “Uh yeah sort of,” TJ replies as a kind of blanket statement to justify his appearance and the fact that he forgot how thinking works. He knows he should say more, but they’re already arriving at school, so he decides against it. “Hey, we’re still a little early. Wanna have breakfast?” he asks, completely changing the subject. “Yes! I’m actually starving,” the brown-haired boy replies slightly too quickly and he thinks he knows why.

“Underdog! Did you not eat breakfast this morning??” TJ questions in disbelief. “Maybe not,” Cyrus responds, looking at the ground as they head for the cafeteria. “I wanted to ask you in person if you were okay and you walking me to school was the quickest way. By the way,” he says while yawning, “you owe a milkshake at the Spoon. I woke up too early for this.” The athlete knows that he isn’t joking but he doesn’t mind. All he hears is that he owes Cyrus a date at the Spoon. “Sure!” he exclaims a little too enthusiastically. “We can go tomorrow after school if you want.” Cyrus looks up at him and smiles: “It’s a date.” 

TJ swears he forgets how to breathe. He’s not sure how to respond to that, so he does the next best thing and coughs obnoxiously. “Oh my God! TJ, are you okay?” Cyrus questions and rests a hand on his back. Somehow, the added physical contact doesn’t help at all and TJ nearly hyperventilates. He is used to Cyrus’ touch, of course, but he certainly isn’t used to Cyrus touching him after suggesting that their hangout at the Spoon was a date. 

Thankfully, they are entering the cafeteria, which TJ sees as a chance to go recollect. He clears his throat. “Yeah, I’m fine. I must have accidentally swallowed some spit. I’m gonna go and get some water now while you get your food. I’ll be right back,” he announces in one breath and darts towards the water fountain without waiting for Cyrus’ response. Aware that he is still within his best friend’s peripheral vision as he stands in line, TJ takes several big gulps of water. Turns out, it helps. But he knows that even if he drinks the whole fountain, he’ll have to head back because avoiding Cyrus for a whole other day is out of the question, and so he does, with a smile—a normal one—plastered on his face. This is going to be a long day, he thinks to himself, silently this time.

Tag List

@tyrusmuff1n @thedampjofangirl @mackpocalypse @vi-the-best-you-can @judgemental-llama @thesubtextmachine @green-lemonboys @tjfruitymixitup @tyrustina @90svalykrie

[12miraenie]

Pieces

Pairing: Minseok x Reader 

Genre: Angst, Fluff 

Warning: Potential trigger for miscarriage? 

Word Count: 5k+ 

Summary: The mirror is not broken, reflections are still as clear as day. It’s just the way you see yourself that’s changed. 

A/N: Compiled up 2 anon’s request, here it is a long one. Proofread was as always...not done. Enjoy! 💕

✾ Link to Masterlist  

“I’ll tell Nurse Ahn to bring in a cup of tea.”

The screeching sound of a chair being pulled back was followed by you hastily standing up and waving your hand to the doctor. Too distressed to think otherwise, you removed your jacket from the hanger along with your scarf and bowed down.

“Thank you but no, Doctor. I want to take some air.”

You avoided his eyes when you bowed once more and went out of his office. You didn’t need to look in his eyes to know what must be in them. Sorry, pity, sympathy. You didn’t want another to look at you like you are a broken piece of toy, the very thing your parents did when you woke up in a hospital bed.

You climbed the stairs to the roof with much difficulty, feeling like every organ was being lacerated by force with each step. There was a sheen of sweat on your forehead, and your hair was in messy strands around your face. Pushing open the iron door, you were greeted by a strong surge of winter wind. It sent shivers down your body, goosebumps were aligned on top your skin. With small steps, you walked over to the ledge and sat down against the railing. Tears spilled out the moment your body came in contact with the cold, hard ground.

Good thing your parents brought you to a private hospital. The floor was quiet, no busy in and outs or conversations buzzing in the hallway like regular hospitals. It was good nobody saw you running down the hall crying, hair in front of your face looking like a mess. 

You shivered again and pulled your scarf tighter around your neck. If your parents saw you like this, they would take turns to scold you about not taking care of your health, especially since you’ve just come out of a big surgery.

It was supposed to be the first good night for you in three months. After the company project you’ve been working on was completed, you finally got the chance to rest, and your parents came to town to stay with you until Minseok’s done his conference in Japan. It was two hours before the scheduled arrival of your parents. You remember grocery shopping and cooking by yourself in the kitchen, and the next second dizziness came crashing down on you, and you struggled to stand all of a sudden. Before you could hold on to something to stable yourself, you had blacked out.

The next time you opened your eyes, a blur of people were around you, running along and pulling your stretcher in the hospital hallway and someone, probably an EMT shouting words. Most were just buzzings to you, but you still picked up a few.

“Pregnant patient with minor head injury…huge blood loss.” 

The passing fluorescent lights above your head was the last thing you remembered seeing before darkness took over and you lost consciousness.

Did the result surprise you? You couldn’t come up with a definite answer, because you knew something was wrong long before. There were sudden fatigues, dizziness, or pain in your stomach region that you couldn’t pinpoint what the exact problem was. Busy with work back then, you blamed in on stress and lack of sleep and didn’t bother paying the doctors a visit. When you woke up in the hospital and talked to Doctor Kim, he opened the report and showed you what you had. 

Severe anemia with iron deficiency.

The chance of miscarriage went up a lot because of your inherent problems, and you remembered his next words clearly, “This complication…is not something to be treated lightly. Because you were found and sent here an hour after the blackout, and the anemia symptoms started showing in the early stage of your pregnancy…Y/N, I think it would be unlikely for you to be pregnant again. I’m sorry.”

You clutched the railings tight in your hands, the coldness seeping into your palm fought off the nauseating feeling in your stomach and the bitterness of the bile coming from the back of your throat. It’s impossible for you to think that you were to blame for your own child’s death. How can you take that in lightly? To think that you killed a life. A baby that belongs to you and Minseok.

Oh god.

Your eyes shut tight like a reflex at the thought of Minseok. The last time you called him was a little before the accident at home, you guessed that he’s probably aware of what happened by now. Your parents are not exactly good secret keepers. You bit your lips as a sharp drop of tear escaped your eyes. You can’t even imagine what the kind of look in his eyes would be. Absolute devastation, probably. And when he learns the truth? When he finally realizes that the reason a your-his child’s gone was because of you? What would he think then?

You buried your face in both hands and sniffled. The cold wind left a stinging sensation when air went up your nostrils and more tears came out of your eyes. You didn’t want to see Minseok now, you are not physically and emotionally prepared.

You can’t even look him in the eyes. 

                                     Freshly showered and dressed in a robe, you snuggled up in two extra thick blankets and leaned your back on soft cushions on the uncomfortable hospital bed. You couldn’t even turn around without hitting the side. On the table next to you was the food your parents bought. They even got the fried shrimp from the food stand in Hongdae that people line up half an hour for. Your parents are not usually keen on breaking the supposedly “strict” rule that you have to eat according to doctor’s orders, they probably did all those to cheer you up.

Flicking the remote, you opened the TV and switched to a random drama. Scooting a bit down to a more comfortable position, you leaned your head on the headboard. An IV was still attached to your right hand, tracing your head up, you focused mindlessly on what you read 9% Normal Saline dripping down in a slow pace on the metal hanger.

You hated it. The needle has never left your hand since you woke up. You hated the hospital smell, the never changing menu of hospital food. You hated the way nurses look at you whenever they come in for check-ups. You hated the way your mom canceled her plans to visit her best friend in Europe and your dad dropping everything at work to stay at the hospital all day long. Every time you told them that you are okay, that whatever happened is in the past, they don’t believe you.

It took you one temper tantrum and two hours of explanations to get your parents to agree to only visit you during visiting hours and go home to sleep. They have been here for 50 or more hours and didn’t get one second of closed eyes. You were mentally drained by the time they said goodbye and closed the door behind them. 

You can’t do it all by yourself.

It reminded you how much you miss Minseok. How much easier things would be if he’s here. Your mind went back to the previous times you were hospitalized. He is always the more thoughtful one, bringing you hot packs, reminding you to eat medicine, and holding your hand when you did blood tests and got injections.  Your heart almost leaped out of your chest when your parents told you that he is on the plane back here, but your thoughts are over the place, and you are not sure if seeing Minseok would be a good idea for now.

Taking a sip of the water, you grimaced at its lukewarm taste. You turned your attention back to the TV and pressed down the remote to change channels again. The drama on screen was a sad one, and sadness wasn’t really something you were looking for at the moment. Turning up the volume, you tried to immerse yourself into a variety show you always loved. But somehow it’s hard to even lift the corner of your lips at the show that still gets you laughing until your stomach hurt.

Maybe the sound of the TV was too loud because when the door to your room was slid open harshly, you didn’t expect to see a panting Minseok with the nurse in attendance hot on his trail.

“Sir, visiting hours are over-“

She stopped talking when she saw you were still up. 

“Hey, Soojin, this is my husband over there. Could you please maybe…give us a few minutes?” 

The nurse you’ve grown to be friends with bit her lips before sighing eventually.

“Ok, ten minutes. It’s already against protocol.”

“Thank you, Soojin.” 

She gave you a soft smile and closed the door behind her.

Minseok was frozen on the spot during the whole interaction between you and Soojin. He stayed motionless, the warm brown cashmere coat was still draped over his arms, the luggage tag still intact on his bag, and he was wearing the exact same clothes he packed for the conference. Minseok fixed his eyes on you. You were not one bit prepared to let him see you like this. Too sudden. 

For a while, you just stared at each other. Him standing near the door and you leaning on pillows with barely enough energy to move. Then all of a sudden you burst into tears.

You were scooped into his arms the next second. Minseok’s hold on you was tight, tight enough to squeeze your ribs into one piece. The hospital gown was extremely flimsy, you shivered when your face came in contact with his coat. But it didn’t matter at all. You relished in his body heat and allowed yourself to finally let your guard down once. Surrounded by Minseok’s familiar scent, you convinced yourself that everything’s better now. Nothing else matters because he is here.

Minseok patted your back in a slow, steady pattern until your full sobs quieted down to bare whimpers. The bed dipped when he sat on the edge, and you felt his hands carefully moving the plastic tubing away before finding yours and intertwined your fingers together. His cold hands against your warm ones, but you’ve never felt better.

“Don’t cry. I’m here now.”  

Minseok’s voice came out deep and raspy, and it only spurred you to clutch onto him tighter. As a matter of fact, Minseok really is your only savior, the only person you can hang on for dear life when everything comes down. He has been right beside you for better or for worse. Somehow at the moment your mind went back to your wedding vows when Minseok held your hand in his and said the words “I do.” while staring at you with enough determination and confidence to turn the sun around. You might be biased, but no one is better than Minseok as a husband.

You pulled away from each other, but Minseok didn’t let go of your hands. It was only then you really took in each other. His normally neatly styled hair was messy, strands falling out in different direction. There seemed to be a tension between his eyebrows, you can’t tell if they are creased or not. You moved your eyes from his bloodshot, slightly puffed eyes to the dark circles, and to his chapped lips that were pursed in a straight line.

“Min…”

You addressed him for the first time, there was a fragile edge to your voice that caused Minseok to frown and look at you concerningly. It was hard enough to say those words yourself already, and Minseok’s stare was making it harder. The thought in your head that you were trying so hard to get rid of resurfaced the second he walked in your room, and even though you tried to convince yourself otherwise, it’s not going anywhere. Not even after probably a thousand repetitions of you didn’t do this. 

It’s not your fault.

“I…I lost our child.”  

Once again, you buried yourself in his warmth as if it helps to keep you warm. But the cold, hard feeling from the bottom of your spine could hardly be ignored, and even you were wrapped in Minseok’s arms with a pool of blankets around you, you can’t help thinking about it. How it is your fault, and you killed your child.

“No.” Putting the finger on your lips, Minseok cut you off and shook his head, “Please don’t do this. Not now. I didn’t wait a whole day in Osaka airport for the first flight back here to listen to you blaming yourself. I’m here now. You haven’t lost me.”

You nodded, his tone believable enough for you to relax and focus on him instead. Minseok took off his coat and shoes and ran a hand through his hair.

“Sleep. It’s already late. I’ll stay here.“

His words triggered the underlying tiredness that took over your body in one second. The next thing you know, your eyes are closing, your brain is shutting down, and soon your head hit the pillow. Vaguely you remembered Minseok pulling up the blankets over your body and making sure you were comfortable.

The last thing you remembered was a kiss on your forehead before everything went black.

                                           “What about that art show? You told me before that you wanted to go there.”

Not hearing a word from you, Minseok looked up from his laptop and frowned. You were staring at the front absently, only paying a sliver of attention on him or whatever he’s been talking about for the past ten minutes. He sighed loudly and shut the lid closed.

“Y/N?”

This time his voice got louder. “Hey, Y/N?”  

You snapped your head up when Minseok called you the third time, returning from your train of thoughts. It worried Minseok quite a lot now, ever since you recovered you would go into these trances and just blankly staring into space and not paying attention to anything. At first, he thought it was just the side effect of the medicine you ate, but as time passed, it has gotten worse. Increasingly Minseok felt that you have been distancing yourself from him, almost like you did it on purpose. He’s confused and a little angry.

He’s been trying everything to make you happy. You smiled less, went out less, and spoke less. You chose to stay behind the closed doors of your bedroom at home, and even if you are out with him, you don’t seem happy. Heck, Minseok can’t even remember the last time you really had a conversation together.

“Ok. You need to tell me what the problem is. I can’t do this on my own.”

You frowned, eyebrows slightly arched as you turned your attention to him and blinked slowly.

“Do what?“

Minseok sighed, exasperated breath leaving his mouth. “Are you serious? Do you not know the problem? I mean, shouldn’t you know the best if you are the one treating your spouse like a stranger?”

You tugged on the corner of your mouth, letting out a huff. “I don’t know what you are talking about, Min.” You shook your head and leaned down to take a sip of your water. This seemed to agitate Minseok more because he became apparently more aggravated, and louder.

“Really? I know you said you wanted space, but it’s been three months already! And I am tired of my wife distancing herself from me? I am your husband for god’s sake! You should be able to tell me everything!”

“It’s not about the...the accident-” You gulped, still unable to say the word out loud. The mug thudded against the table when you tried to make eye contact with him under the dim kitchen light, but Minseok turned away before you could do so.

“See, this is exactly where the problem is. You still can’t face it, Y/N. How can you get over it if you can’t even admit you had a misc-“

“Stop! Ok? Look, I don’t know what’s with you tonight, Min. Trust me. It’s not about that.” Your fingers clicked the table top with each word. You were getting irritated as well. You admit you were different than before, but he shouldn’t have the audacity to accuse you of not paying him enough attention when something as heartbreaking as losing a child happened to you. Not just your body, your emotions too.

“Trust you? Ok, if this isn’t the problem, I don’t know what the fuck is wrong.“ Minseok threw his hands up in the air and huffed. He pushed through his hair and stared at you dead in the eye, “Are you having an affair? Cheating on me?”  

You were already on the brink of losing control, and when he said that you just snapped. 

“You know what? I never thought you were such an attention seeker before. My world doesn’t go around you, ok? So what if I am cheating? Huh?”

You stood up, anger already burning in full scale. “How can you ask me to move on when I lost a baby-our child from my body? Do you even understand that feeling when you wake up and suddenly can’t feel that extra weight, that extra heart beating inside? You don’t fucking understand, Minseok.”

He went silent for a while and took a position of leaning against the counter.

“You could have talked, communicated with me about everything. You should have done all that to get it off your chest. I don’t know what you are so reluctant to do that.” He shook his head in disappointment. 

Blind anger and hurt drowned out your logic at the moment when you blurted out, “If this is what you think, if you can’t even understand me this much, then we shouldn’t be together anymore.”

You turned around abruptly to your bedroom and slammed the door behind you, leaving Minseok standing in the kitchen. Tears flowed out the moment you squeezed your eyes shut and leaned against the door. Your hands were clutching the door handle so tight trying not to let your emotions go to overdrive.

No sound was made from the outside. After taking a few deep breaths and hastily wiping away your tears, you walked to the closet and pulled out a suitcase and started throwing everything in. You had no time to fill half of it before the door burst open, revealing a Minseok in obvious distress, who froze when he saw the suitcase.

All sense of anger was gone in his eyes, and panic took over his features.

“What are you doing?“

A humorless laugh escaped your mouth as you threw another article of clothing in. “Can’t you see? What else is packing for then?“

Minseok reached you in three long strides and took hold of your arm. “No, you are not going anywhere. I won’t let you.”  

His eyes were clouded with frustration, but the panic and anxiety behind his eyes were not exactly concealed in plain sight. His hold on you was strong, but not enough to make you hurt. It almost felt like he’s pleading, holding on to you like he depended on it.

“You can’t leave me like this, Y/N. I can’t-I won’t lose you too.”

Tears that threatened to come out of your eyes didn’t make it before you masked your emotions behind an emotionless face. You shook your arm away from his hold and turned sideways to zip up your suitcase. God it hurt when you looked at him from under your lashes and breathed out, “You can’t do anything if I want to leave, Minseok. You can’t hold me here.”

Minseok dropped his arm and looked down dejectedly. He didn’t look once as you shrugged on a jacket and tugged your suitcase past him into the living room and eventually out of the door.

“Oh god, what have I done?“

                                        Minseok pushed his body up and reached over to his phone reluctantly. His head hurt like hell, and he cursed under his breath when he squinted at the screen. Who the heck calls at 2 in the morning?

His mind got clearer when he recognized the caller ID almost immediately. It belongs to one of your friends, he remembered you telling him that you went to college and took the same history class. He frowned, why would she call him right now?

“Hello?”

He pulled his phone away from his ear immediately. The other end was too loud, hurting his eardrums with what sounded like base and synth music only a nightclub would play. Before he can say anything else, a voice made him sat up instantly.

“Seokie. Minseokie. Why aren’t you here already? They have the best club music here, and the DJ is so hot.” 

A string of giggles and laughs followed suit, and although Minseok can’t help furrow his eyebrows when you mentioned the DJ, he cared more about something else. Like where you are, or what the fuck you are doing in a club.

“What are you do-Just tell me where you are, ok? Are you in a club?” Minseok put his phone closer despite how much his ears hurt from all the noise. You were definitely drunk, slurring all your words and making it hard for him to know what you are talking about.

“Hello? Y/N?”

Minseok threw away his blanket and hurried to put some clothes on.

“Hey! Y/N, are you there?”

After some shufflings on the other end, Minseok was greeted with your friend’s voice. “Minseok? Is it you?”

He had no time for pleasantries and cut straight to the topic, “Where is she? Just give me an address.”

                                         The loud pumping bass made Minseok frown. He has always hated clubs, hated the skyrocketed amount of alcohol people consume there, hated the barely dressed girls who press onto random people, and hated whatever goes on in the hallways or behind doors.

He squeezed through a mountain of people before he could see the bar clearly. Although it was 2 am, people seemed to be having the time of their lives in the club. Minseok saw your friend almost immediately, standing at the end of the bar looking at her phone. As he got closer, he spotted you too. Although you had your head down leaning on the bar counter, he couldn’t have mistaken you for anybody else.

Minseok grabbed your shoulders gently and put an arm around you protectively. Your friend looked up to find him, and a relieved expression took over her features. She shouted over the music, “I’m sorry, she wanted to destress, and I couldn’t stop her, so I had to follow her here to make sure she’s alright. She only drank and never left the bar.”

Minseok nodded curtly when you stirred in his arms. You got up from the bar stool and staggered before turning around and looked him fully in the eye.

“Seokie! You are here!” You said in an artificially high voice, making Minseok frown. It was so obvious that you drank, and by the look of it, you drank more than one shot.

“You’ve been drinking tonight, haven’t you? How much?” The last question was directed to your friend, who shrugged and tugged her lips.

“I told her to stop after the third one, but I don’t know, she thrashed around. I didn’t want her to cause a scene.“

Minseok put both hands on your shoulder securely, “Come on, you are leaving right now.”

You giggled and snaked your arms around his waist. Pulling him closer, you tiptoed and whispered in his ear, “Come on, Seokie. Dance with me.”

Minseok’s stare only hardened. He removed your arms from him and gave you a stern look.

“No. I’m taking you home.“

Strangely, you stopped protesting on the way out. Minseok made a path in the crowd and had one arm out to shield you from bumping into other people. You shivered from the chilly wind and Minseok shrugged off his jacket to drape it over your shoulders.

He helped you get in and buckled your seatbelt when you stared at him wordlessly, with something unreadable glossed over your eyes. He wasn’t sure if you were conscious enough to know what’s going on, but you didn’t even blink looking at him. You leaned on the passenger seat when Minseok started the engine.

“When was the last time we had fun together? Like real fun? So strange, I can remember you doing the same thing picking me up from a party in college. Whose was it? Chanyeol? Jongin? I can’t remember.” 

You turned your head sideways and looked at Minseok’s side profile. Your cute pout and drunken babblings would have a different effect on him otherwise, but both of his hands were gripping on the steering wheel and no visible emotion was shown on his face. He seemed to be paying full attention to the road, without even casting an eye to you. 

“You are no fun when you are Minseok. I missed Seokie…but it doesn’t matter. When I’m with you, I am happy. Really happy.” You dragged the last word longer on your tongue and pouted. Crossing your arms in front of you, you leaned even closer to him. The seatbelt was straining your actions, and you hissed when it slid across your collarbones roughly. A redlight happened at the same time, Minseok hit the pedal when you fell back to the car seat. 

You giggled and reached one hand over to touch his arm. “Oh, I didn’t know you can be this blunt, Seokie. And rough…but I like it.”

Minseok sighed out loud and grabbed your hand to put it back in your lap. In normal circumstances, he would laugh and roll his eyes at your not so subtle at all flirting, but other things were occupying the entirety of his mind at the moment. Like the fact you turned up in a club utterly wasted, like how you didn’t contact him after leaving for 2 weeks, like what exactly went wrong between you two. 

                                                  You woke up knowing it was the worst morning you’ve ever had in a long time, worse than the time you went out for cocktail tasting with Minseok. Your head felt like it’s been pounded repeatedly by an iron hammer, and your limbs were beyond your body’s control. You groaned at the sunlight hitting your face and turned sideways, unexpectedly hitting something warm. You stiffened and opened one eye, squinting at what’s in front of you. Everything was too bright, but unmistakenly you were inches away from a person. Your eyes widened the moment you tried to piece everything together. Did something happen last night? You tried hard to recall any event from last night, but your mind was of a useless haziness. You jolted up immediately despite how much more your head hurt at the movement. Rubbing your eyes furiously, you tried to process what exactly was going on, before coming face to face with Minseok still lying down on the bed but staring at you with his eyes.

You breathed out loud in relief when you realized it was just Minseok and brushed your hair back. It was hard, not to say awkward, to even maintain eye contact with him after you left that night. You shifted a little further away and leaned your head against the headboard.

“We need to talk.“

Minseok threw the cover off and walked away, leaving his back facing you as he went out of the bedroom. He returned with two tablets and a glass of water, and you took them over gingerly. You gulped down the whole glass hungrily and placed the empty glass on the bedstand.

“Why?”

You didn’t need him to explain further to understand. He was asking you why you left. But how could you tell him? How could you tell him that you can no longer be pregnant? You looked at Minseok once again and took in the sullen look on his face.

He was no better than you in the past two weeks.

You bit down on your lips and took a deep breath, deciding the tell him the truth. He deserves that, more than anyone else.

“It’s not only a miscarriage, Minseok. I…we can never have a baby again.”  

The big moment where Minseok gets all disappointed, angry and slams the door and leave didn’t play out according to your script. He was still in the same position, didn’t even bat an eyelash when you revealed the truth. You frowned, this is not the reaction he should have right now.

“Do you honestly think I don’t know?“ Minseok crossed his arms over his chest and sighed, “Y/N, your parents told me the moment I got to the hospital.”

You were at a loss for words. So he knew it from the beginning. All of your stresses, pent-up frustrations and worries were for nothing?

“I didn’t know you put that little faith in me, Y/N. You really thought I would leave you for that?”

“But…” You know how much he loves kids. From day 1 of your relationship, you knew Minseok is an absolute fan of children. So are you. As you all grew older and got married, Minseok would gush over newborn kids from either your friends or his. You were 100% sure that one day you two would have a little life cradled in your arms too. Not being able to have a kid would devastate Minseok, you were sure of that. He could have a way better life without you now.

“Why me? Why didn’t you leave?”

“I didn’t marry you because of other reasons. I married you because you are you and because you’ve shown me what love can feel like. No other person can do that.”

Minseok sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled you into his arms, tight enough for you to feel every curve of his muscle under his t-shirt. Close enough for you to hear his every heartbeat.

“You are the one, Mrs. Kim. I should have never let you out that door that night, and I’m never letting you go again.”

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All of the allegorical chapter intros from Warped Passages

Entryway Passages: Demystifying Dimensions

“Ike, I’m not so sure about this story I’m writing. I’m considering adding more dimensions. What do you think of that idea?

“Athena, your big brother knows very little about fixing stories. But odds are it won’t hurt to add new dimensions. Do you plan to add new characters, or flesh out your current ones some more?”

“Neither; that’s not what I meant. I plan to introduce new dimensions--as in new dimensions of space.”

“You’re kidding, right? You’re going to write about alternative realities--like places where people have alternative spiritual experiences or where they go when they die, or when they have near-death experiences?* I didn’t think you went in for that sort of thing.”

“Come on, Ike. You know I don’t. I’m talking about different spatial dimensions--not different spiritual planes!”

“But how can different spatial dimensions change anything? Why would using paper with different dimensions--11″ x 8″ instead of 12″ x 9″, for example--make any difference at all?”

“Stop teasing. That’s not what I’m talking about either. I’m really planning to introduce new dimensions of space, just like the dimensions we see, but along entirely new directions.”

“Dimensions we don’t see? I thought three dimensions is all there are.”

“Hang on, Ike. We’ll soon see about that.”

*Questions I’ve actually been asked.

Restricted Passages: Rolled-up Extra Dimensions

Athena awoke with a start. The previous day she had read Alice in Wonderland and Flatland in order to seek some inspiration about dimensions. But that night she had the strangest dream, which, when fully conscious, she recognized as the result of having read the two books on the same day.*

Athena dreamed she had turned into Alice, slipped into a rabbit hole, and met the resident Rabbit, who had pushed her out into an unfamiliar world. Athena had thought it a rather rude way to convey a guest. Even so, she had eagerly looked forward to the upcoming adventure in Wonderland.

Athena was in for a disappointment, however. The resident Rabbit, who was fond of puns, had sent her instead to OneDLand, a strange, not so wonderful, one-dimensional world. Athena looked around--or, I should say, to her left and right--and discovered that all she could see were two points--one to her left and another to her right (but in a prettier color, she thought).

In OneDLand, all the one-dimensional people with their one-dimensional possessions were lined up along this single dimension like long, thin beads strung out along a thread. But even with her limited purview, Athena knew there must be more to OneDLand than met her eyes because of the outrageous din that met her ears. A Red Queen was well hidden behind a dot, but Athena couldn’t miss her strident yells: “This is the most ridiculous chess game I have ever seen! I can’t move any pieces, not even to castle!” Athena was relieved when she realized her one-dimensional existence shielded her from the wrath of the Red Queen.

But Athena’s cozy universe did not last long. Slipping through a gap in ONeDLand, she returned to the dreamworld’s rabbit hole, which had an elevator that could take her to hypothetical, other dimensional universes. Almost immediately, the Rabbit announced, “Next stop: TwoDLand--a two-dimensional world.” Athena didn’t think “TwoDLand” a very nice name, but she cautiously entered all the same.

Athena needn’t have been so hesitant. Almost everything in TwoDLand looked the same as in OneDLand. SHe did notice one difference--a vial labeled “Drink me.” Bored with one dimension, Athena promptly obeyed. She quickly shrank to a tiny size, and as she became smaller, a second dimension came into view. This second dimension was not very big--it was wrapped around in a fairly small circle. Her surroundings now resembled the surface of an extremely long tube. A Dodo was racing around the circular dimension, but he wanted to stop. So he kindly offered Athena, who looked rather hungry, some cake.

When Athena ate a morsel of the Dodo’s dreamcake, she started to grow. After only a few bites (she was quite sure of this, as she was still rather hungry), the cake very nearly disappeared; all that remained was a very tiny crumb. At least Athena thought there was a crumb, but she could see it only when she squinted very hard. And the cake wasn’t the only thing that had vanished from view: when Athena returned to her usual size, the entire second dimension had disappeared.

She thought to herself, “TwoDLand is very yodd indeed. I’d best be getting home.” Her return journey was not without further adventures, but those will be kept for another time.

*Or perhaps this story is a result of my having begun my education at the perhaps questionably named Lewis Carroll School, P.S. 179, in Queens. 

Exclusive Passages: Branes, Braneworlds, and the Bulk

Unlike the studious Athena, Ike rarely read any books. He generally preferred playing with games, gadgets, and cars. But Ike hated driving in Boston, where the drivers were reckless, the roads were badly signposted, and the highways were invariably under construction. Ike always ended up stuck in traffic, which he found especially frustrating when he could see a nearly empty freeway overhead. Though the empty road would be tempting, Ike would have no way to quickly reach it since, unlike Athena’s owls*, he couldn’t fly. For Ike trapped on slow roads in Boston, the third dimension was no use at all. 

[*nb: owls are mentioned in the chapter body:]

When you peg someone as one-dimensional, you actually have something rather specific in mind: you mean that the person only has a single interest. For example, Sam, who does nothing but sit at home watching sports, can be described with just one piece of information. If you felt so inclined, you could picture this information with a one-dimensional graph: Sam’s proclivity to watch sports, for example. In drawing this graph you need to specify your units so that someone else can udnerstand what the distance along this single axis means, such as the number of hours Sam spends per week watching sports on TV. (Fortunately, Sam won’t be insulted by this example; he is not among the multidimensional readers of this book.)

When we describe most people, however, we usually assign them more than one, or even three, characteristics. Athena is an eleven-year-old who reads avidly, excels at math, keeps abreast of current events, and raises pet owls. You might want to plot this too (though why, exactly, I’m not really sure). In that case, Athena would have to be plotted a s point in a five-dimensional space with axes corresponding to age, number of books read per week, average math test score, number of minutes spent reading the newspaper per day, and nubmer of owls she owns. However, I’m having trouble drawing such a graph.

“Hey, Athena, is that Casablanca you’re watching?”

“Sure is. Want to join me? This is such a great scene.”

You must remember this, A kiss is just a kiss, A sigh is just a sigh, The fundamental things apply as time goes by.

“Hang on, Ike. Don’t you think that last line’s a little weird? It’s supposed to be so romantic, but it almost sounds as if it’s about physics.”

“Athena, if you think that’s strange, you’ve got to hear the opening verse of the original:”

This day and age we’re living in, Give cause for apprehension, With speed and new invention, And things like fourth dimension, Yet we get a trifle weary, With Mr. Einstein’s theory...

“Ike, you don’t really expect me to believe that, do you? Next thing I know you’ll tell me Rick and Ilsa escape into the seventh dimension! Why don’t we forget I ever said anything and just sit back and watch the movie?”

[nb: actually true]

Relativity: The Evolution of Einstein’s Gravity

Icarus (Ike) Rushmore II couldn’t wait to show Dieter his new Porsche. But as proud as he was of his car, he was even more excited about his Global Positioning System (GPS) that he had recently designed and installed himself.

Ike wanted to impress Dieter, so he convinced his friend to drive with him to the local track. They got in the car, Ike programmed in their destination, and the two of them set off. But to Ike’s chagrin, they ended up in the wrong place--the GPS system didn’t work nearly as well as he had thought it would. Dieter’s first thought was that Ike must have made some ridiculous error, like confusing meters and feet. But Ike didn’t believe he could have made such a stupid mistake, and he bet Dieter that wasn’t the problem.

The next day, Ike and Dieter did some troubleshooting. But to their dismay, when they went for a drive, the GPS was even worse than before. Ike and Dieter searched again for the problem and finally, after a frustrating week, Dieter had an epiphany. He did a quick calculation and made the startling discovery that without accounting for general relativity, the GPS system would build up errors at the rate of more than 10 km per day. Ike didn’t think his Porsche was fast enough to warrant relativistic calculations, but Dieter explained that the GPS signals--not the car--travel at the speed of light. Dieter modified the software to account for the changing gravitational field the GPS signals had to pass through. .Ike’s system then worked as well as the readily available commercial variety. Relieved, Ike and Dieter began to plan a road trip.

Quantum Mechanics: Principled Uncertainty, the Principal Uncertainties, and the Uncertainty Principle

Ike wondered whether Athena was making him watch too many movies or Dieter was talking too much about physics. But whatever the reason, the previous night Ike dreamed he met a quantum detective. Dressed in a fedora, a trench coat, and with a stone-faced expression, the dream detective spoke:

“I knew nothing about her except her name, and that she was standing there before me. But from the moment I set eyes on her I knew Electra* would be trouble. When I asked her where she came from, she refused to say. The room had two entrances, and she must have come through one. But Electra whispered hoarsely, ‘Mister, forget it. I’ll never tell you which.’

“Although I saw that she was shaking, I tried to pin this lady down. But Electra paced frenetically when I started to approach. She begged me to come no closer. Seeing she was agitated, I kept away. I was no stranger to uncertainty, but this time it had me beat. It looked like uncertainty was going to stick around here for a while.”

*The name refers to the electron, not the character in Greek mythology.

The Standard Model of Particle Physics: Matter’s Most Basic Known Structure

Of all the stories she had read, Athena was most thoroughly perplexed by Hans Christian Andersen’s “The Princess and the Pea.” The story tells of a Prince who searched unsuccessfully for a suitable princess to wed. After he had searched in vain for weeks, a potential princess arrived by chance at his palace, seeking shelter from a storm. This soggy visitor thereby became the unwitting subject of the Queen’s litmus test for princesses.

The Queen prepared a bed, which she piled high with mattresses and eiderdown quilts. At the very bottom of the pile she placed a solitary pea. That night, she showed her visitor to the carefully prepared guest room. The next morning, the princess (as indeed she proved herself to be) complained that she had not been able to sleep at all. She had tossed and turned the whole night, and found she had actually turned black and blue--all because of the uncomfortable pea. The Queen and Prince were convinced that their visitor was truly of royal blood, for who else could be so delicate?

Athena turned the story round and round in her head. She thought it fairly ridiculous, even the most sensitive of princesses, would ever have discovered the pea by lying passively on top of the pile of mattresses. After many days’ deliberation, Athena found a plausible interpretation, which she rushed to tell her brother.

She rejected the common interpretation that the princess proved her royal nature by demonstrating delicacy and refinement with her sensitivity to even something as minor as a pea under a pile of mattresses. She offered an alternative explanation.

Athena suggested that when the Queen went away and left the princess alone in the room, the princess threw decorum to the wind and gave vent to her boisterous youthful nature. The princess ran around and jumped up and down on her bed until she was exhausted, and only then lay down to try to sleep. Through her rambunctiousness, the princess compressed the mattresses so much that for a brief moment the pea stuck out like a sore thumb and gave her a small bruise. Athena thought this princess was still rather impressive, but found her revisionist interpretation much more satisfactory.

Experimental Interlude: Verifying the Standard Model

Ike once again dreamed he met the quantum detective. This time, the sleuth knew what he was after--and he had a pretty good idea where it should be. All he had to do was wait--sooner or later, if he wasn’t mistaken, his quarry would appear.

Symmetry: The Essential Organizing Principle

Athena uncaged three of her owls and let them fly around. Unfortunately for Ike, he had left the top of his convertible down that day and the curious owls flew right in. The most mischievous of the owls pecked at the car’s interior and ended up tearing it a little.

When Ike saw the damage, he stormed into Athena’s room and demanded that she watch her owls more carefully in the future. Athena protested that her owls were almost all well-behaved and she need only keep an eye on the bad one. But by that time the owls were back in their cages, and neither Ike nor Athena could identify which one was guilty.

The Origin of Elementary Particle Masses: Spontaneous Symmetry Breaking and the Higgs Mechanism

The stricter enforcement of speed limits made long-distance driving a nightmare for Icarus III. He longed to race as fast as he pleased, but police pulled him over nearly every half-mile. The cops never bothered with dull, neutral cars, but harassed only the lively, turbo-charged vehicles, like his own.

Ike resigned himself to driving only short distances, since that way he could avoid the police altogether. Within the half-mile-wide region around where he started, police never interfered and he could always drive impressively fast. Though the Porsche engine’s force was unknown outside his neighborhood, closer to home it became legendary.

Scaling and Grand Unification: Relating Interactions at Different Lengths and Energies

Athena often felt like she was the last to be told anything interesting. She didn’t even hear about Ike’s adventures with his car until after he had owned it for over a month. And she didn’t learn them from him directly--she learned about them from a friend of hers who had heard about them from Dieter’s cousin’s brother, who had learned about them from Dieter’s cousin, who had heard about them from Dieter.

Through this indirect route, Athena was told Ike’s remark, “The influence of forces depends on where you are.” Ike’s uncharacteristic pronouncement completely mystified Athena until she realized that the message must have been distorted along the way. After thinking about it for a while, she decided that Ike’s real remark must have been, “The performance of Porsches depends on the model of the car.”

The Hierarchy Problem: The Only Effective Trickle-Down Theory

Ike Rushmore III came to an ignominious end when he drove his resplendent new Porsche into a lamppost.  He was nonetheless happy in Heaven, where he could play games all the time. He was a gambling man at heart.

One day, God Himself invited Ike to a rather strange game. God told him to write down a sixteen-digit number. God would roll the heavenly isocahedral die. Unlike a normal, cubic die with six sides, this die had twenty sides, with the digits 0 through 9 written twice. God explained that He would throw this die sixteen times and construct a sixteen-digit number by listing the results, one after the other. If God and Ike came up with the same enormous number--that is, if all the digits matched in the correct order--God would win. If the numbers weren’t exactly the same--that is, if any of the digits failed to match--Ike would defeat God.

God began to roll. The first side that came up was the number 4. This agreed with the first digit of Ike’s number, which was 4,715,031,495,526,312. Ike was surprised when God rolled correctly, since the odds were only one in ten. Nevertheless, he was pretty sure the second or third number would be wrong; the odds of God’s rolling both numbers correctly in succession was only one in a hundred.

God threw the first die for a second and then a third time. He rolled a 7 and then a 1, which were also correct. He kept rolling until, to Ike’s astonishment, He had rolled all sixteen digits correctly. The chances of this happening randomly were only 1 in 10,000,000,000,000,000. How could God have won?

Ike was a bit angry (one can’t get very angry in Heaven) and asked how something so ridiculously unlikely could have happened. God sagely replied, “I am the only one who could expect to win, since I am both omniscient and omnipotent. Howeer, you must have heard, I do not like to play dice.”

And with that, GAMBLING FORBIDDEN was posted on a cloud. Ike was furious (of course, only a little). Not only had he lost the game, but he’d also lost the right to gamble.

Supersymmetry: A Leap Beyond the Standard Model

When Icarus first arrived in Heaven, he was directed to an orientation seminar where the authorities explained the local rules. To his surprise, he learned that right-wing religious groups were essentially correct, and family values were indeed a cornerstone of his new environment. The authorities had long ago established and traditional family structure premised on the separation of generations and the stability of marriages; a top would always marry a bottom, a charmer would always align with a strange bird, and an uptown girl would always marry a downtown cool cat. Everyone, including Ike, was satisfied with the arrangement.

But Ike later learned that the social structure in Heaven had not always been so secure. Originally, dangerous energetic infiltrators had threatened the hierarchical foundation of society. In Heaven, however, most problems can be solved. God had sent everyone a personal guardian angel, and the angels and their charges had heroically worked together to avert the threat to the hierarchy and preserve the ordered society that Ike could now enjoy.

Even so, Heaven was not entirely safe. The angels turned out to be free agents, with no contract binding them to a single generation. The fickle angels, who had so bravely rescued the hierarchy, now threatened to destroy Heaven’s family values. Ike was appalled. Despite Heaven’s well-advertised attractions, he was finding it a surprisingly stressful place.

Allegro (Ma Non Troppo) Passage for Strings

Fast forward a millennium.

Icarus Rushmore XLII was trying out his new Alicxvr Device, Model 6.3, that he had recently purchased from the Spacernet. (Icarus III’s interest in speed and gadgets had apparently been passed down through many generations.) The Alicxvr was designed to let the user view things of any size, from the very small to the very large. Ike was pretty sure that most of his friends who had purchased the Alicxvr Device would first try the large settings, of many megaparsecs, so they could see into outer space beyond the known universe. But Ike thought, “I know just as little about what is happening at extremely tiny distances,” and decided to investigate a miniscule scale instead.

However, Ike was an impatient sort. He couldn’t be bothered to read the extensive instruction manual accompanying his device and instead decided to plunge right in. Blithely ignoring the red indicator overlapping the smallest sizes, he adjusted his dial to the 10 -33 cm setting and pressed the button labeled “Go.”

To his horror, he found himself space-sick in a wildly oscilllating, precipitous landscape filled with strings. Space was no longer the smooth, anonymous background he was accustomed to. Instead it was jiggling rapidly in places, heading into pointy sections in others, or wandering off into loops that pinched off or later rejoined the surface. Ike fumbled desperately for the “Stop” button and only just managed to press it in time to return to normal with his senses intact.

After recovering his stability, Ike decided he probably should have read the manual after all. He turned to the “Warning” section and read: “Your new Alicxvr Device Model 6.3 works only for sizes larger than 10 -33 cm. We have not yet incorporated the latest string theory developments, whose predictions physicist and mathematicians connected to the physical world only last year.”

Ike was very disappointed when he realized that only the newer Model 7.0 included the latest results. But Ike then caught up with the most recent string theory developments, souped up his Alicxvr, and never got space-sick again.

Supporting Passages: Brane Development

Ike Rushmore XLII decided to dive down once again to the miniscule Planck scale. Happily, his souped-up Alicxvr worked perfectly and he smoothly arrived in a ten-dimensional universe filled with strings. Eager to explore his new environment, Ike cranked up the hyperdrive attachment he had purchased from Gbay. He watched with fascination as strings collided and tangled in mesmerizing ways.

Although Ike worried that the Alicxvr might break down, he was curious to learn more about this novel world. So he increased the pressure on the hyperdrive lever. At first strings collided together even more frequently. But when he cranked up the lever still more, he entered a new, completely unrecognizable environment. Ike couldn’t even tell whether spacetime was intact. But he kept cranking up the hyperdrive, and, strangely enough, emerged unscathed.*

However, his surroundings were now quite different. Ike was no longer in the ten-dimensional universe he had started off in. He was instead in an eleven-dimensional universe filled with particles and branes. And, odd as it seemed, nothing in this new universe interacted very much. When Ike looked back at his controls, he discovered the hyperdrive lever had mysteriously reset to low. Confused and rather exasperated, Ike cranked up the lever once again, only to find himself back where he started. When Ike checked thee controls, he discovered that the hyperdrive lever was once again back at low.

Ike thought his Alicxvr was probably malfunctioning. But when he checked his up-to-date manual he discovered that his device was operating perfectly--high hyperdrive in ten-dimensional string theory was the same as low hyperdrive in an alternate eleven-dimensional world. And vice versa.

The manual didn’t say what should happen when the hyperdrive wasn’t very low or very high, so Ike entered the spacernet and put himself on the wait-list for an improved version that would solve the problem. But the Alicxvr designers promised only that the release date would be some time within the millennium.

*Actually, according to the duality we learn about in this chapter, even the probes used to study a given version of string theory change character when the coupling becomes strong. So if Ike really was part of the string world, he, too, would change.

Bustling Passages: Braneworlds

Icarus III was becoming increasingly disillusioned with Heaven. He had expected it to be a liberal, forgiving environment. But instead, gambling was prohibited, metal silverware was forbidden, and smoking was no longer allowed. The most restrictive constraint of all was that Heaven was stuck on a Heavenbrane; its residents were forbidden to travel into the fifth dimension.

Everyone on the Heavenbrane knew about the fifth dimension and the existence of other branes. In fact, the righteous Heavenbraners often whispered about the unsavory characters sequestered on a Jailbrane not too far away. However, the Jailbraners couldn’t hear any of the slander that Heavenbraners spread about them, so all remained peaceful in the bulk and on the branes.

Sparsely Populated Passages: Multiverses and Sequestering

Despite its explicit prohibition on the Heavenbrane, Icarus III ultimately returned to gambling. After ignoring repeated reprimands, he was sentenced to confinement on the Jailbrane, a distant brane separated from the Heavenbrane along a fifth dimension. Even after he was sequestered on the Jailbrane, Ike doggedly tried to contact his former buddies. But the distance between their two branes made communication difficult. He was reduced to flagging down passing bulk mail carriers, many of whom ignored his entreaties altogether. The few who did stop always conveyed his messages to the Heavenbrane, but at a frustratingly leisurely pace.

Meanwhile, back on the Heavenbrane, disaster loomed. The guardian angels, who had so bravely rescued the hierarchy, had no respect for the other residents’ family values and were on the verge of creating intergenerational instability. Heaven’s fallen angels considered all pairings acceptable and encouraged everyone to mix with a trophy partner from another generation.

When Ike learned of the threat, he was aghast and he resolved to redeem the situation. Ike realized that by using the slow and deliberate manner with which he was constrained to communicate with the Heavenbrane, he could judiciously feed the massive egos of the unruly angels living there. Thanks to Ike’s helpful intervention, the angels stopped threatening the social order. Although Icarus III still had to serve his sentence, the relieved residents on the Heavenbrane honored him forevermore in urban myth.

Leaky Passages: Fingerprints of Extra Dimensions

Athena had to admit that she missed Ike. Even though she had often found him annoying, she was pretty lonely without him. She was looking forward to spending time with K. Square, an exchange student who was planning to visit. But she was appalled by the closed-mindedness of her neighbors, who were all apprehensive about K. Square’s arrival. It didn’t matter that he spoke the same language and behaved the same way as everyone else. In the current climate, K. Square’s foreign origin alone was enough to make them wary.

When Athena asked her neighbors why they were so anxious, they replied “What if he sends for his heavier relatives? What if they’re not so well behaved as he is and stick to their foreign laws? And when they all arrive together, what will happen then?”

Unfortunately, Athena heightened their suspicions by telling them that K. Square and his relatives couldn’t possibly stay long in any case, since they were all very unstable and the K. Square family could visit only during the commotion of energetic gatherings. Recognizing her unfortunate choice of words, Athena reassuringly added that the foreigners would stick to local laws during their brief and exciting visits. Convinced, her neighbors then joined her in welcoming the K. Square clan.

Voluminous Passages: Large Extra Dimensions

Now that K. Square’s visit was over, Athena spent a lot of time at the local Internet cafe. She was exhilarated by her recent discovery of some mysterious new websites, the most intriguing of which was xxx.socloseandyetsofar.al. Athena suspected that these suggestive sites were a consequence of the recent AOB (America On Brane)/Spacetime Warner multimedia merger, but she had to go home before she had time to investigate.

When Athena arrived at her house she rushed to her computer, where she once again sought the exotic hyperlinks that had been so readily accessible at the Internet cafe. To her frustration, however, CyberNanny prevented her from reaching the forbidden dimensionally enhanced sites.* But by cloaking her identity with her secure alias, Mentor, Athena vanquished her cybercensor and succeeded in finally returning to the mysterious hyperlinks.

Athena secretly hoped that K. Square had sent her a message that was hidden in a webpage. But the sites were not easy to understand, and she managed to pick up only a few potentially meaningful signals. She resolved to study their content some more and hoped the merger--unlike the other merger with a similar name--would last long enough for her to figure them out.

*Physicists post their papers on a website that begins with “xxx”: check out xxx.lanl.gov. Internet filters have occasionally forbidden access to this site as well.

Warped Passage: A Solution to the Hierarchy Problem

Athena awoke with a start. She had just revisited her recurring dream, which had again begun with her entering the dreamworld’s rabbit hole. In this episode, when the Rabbit announced, “Next stop, TwoDLand,” Athena ignored him and waited to hear the choices that remained.

At the three-spatial-dimensional stop, the Rabbit announced “If you lived here, you’d be home by now.” But he refused to open the doors, despite Athena’s pleas that she did indeed live there and very much wanted to return home.

At the next stop, uniformed six-dimensioners tried to enter. But the Rabbit took one look at their inordinately large girth and abruptly closed the doors, saying that they couldn’t possibly fit. They quickly departed once the Rabbit threatened to cut them down to size.*

The elevator continued on its extraordinary journey. When it stopped again, the Rabbit announced, “Warped Geometry--a five-dimensional world.”** He gently pushed Athena towards the door, advising her, “Enter the funhouse mirror--it will take you home.”

Since the Rabbit had mentioned a fifth dimension, Athena found this highly unlikely. But she didn’t have any choice but to enter and hope the tricky Rabbit was right.

*As we saw in Chapter 18, extra dimensions can be uniform, large, and flat. The Rabbit is skeptical about this idea. **This counting includes a dimension of time.

The Warped Annontated “Alice” ¹

Athena stepped out of the dreamworld’s elevator into the warped five-dimensional world and was astonished to see only three spatial dimensions. Was the Rabbit playing games, pretending to take her to a world with four spatial dimensions when in fact there were only three? What a funny way to travel to what looked like an ordinary world!²

With great gallantry, a local received the puzzled new arrival. “Welcome to Branesville,³  our glorious capital. Permit me to show you around.” Athena, who was tired and confused, blurted out, “Branesville doesn’t look all that special. Even the mayor looks completely normal,” although she had to confess, she wasn’t entirely sure as she had never seen a mayor before.

The mayor to whom Athena referred had arrived accompanied by the Cheshire Fat Cat, his Chief Advisor. The Cat’s job was keeping tabs on everything in the city, which was greatly facilitated by his skill at catching people unawares--especially surprising in lgith of the Cat’s enormous bulk. The Cat loved to explain that he owed this skill to his ability to disappear into the bulk, but no one ever understood what he meant.⁴

The Cat materialized next to Athena and asked if she would like to accompany him as he made his rounds. He warned her tha she had better be comfortable ith bulk, to which Athena eagerly responded that her favorite uncle was in fact very, very fat. The Cat looked skeptical, but agreed to take her along. He offered Athena cream cake with butter frosting, in which she happily indulged. And off they went.

Athena wondered what it was she’d eaten. She now appeared to be on a four-dimensional slice of a five-dimensional world, and as far as she could tell, she was no thicker than this thin four-dimensional slice. She exclaimed, “I am like my paper doll! But whereas Dolly has two spatial dimensions in a three-dimensional world, I have three spatial dimensions in a four-dimensional world.

The Cat grinned sagely and explained, “You are now conscious of what I like to call The Bulk. You are still in Branesville, but will be leaving (and growing) momentarily. Branesville is in reality part of a five-dimensional universe, but the fifth dimension is warped so discreetly that Branesville residents are completely unaware of its existence. They have no idea that Branesville is the border of a five-dimensional state. You too mistakenly concluded on your arrival that there are only three spatial dimensions. The new Athena, untethered from the brane, is free to travel out into the fifth dimension. May I suggest for our destination another village called Weakbrane, at the other edge of the five-dimensional universe?”

What a strange five-dimensional journey it turned out to be. After leaving Branesville, Athena found herself moving in another dimension, and growing as she did so.⁵  When the observant Cat noticed the confused look on Athena’s face, he reassuringly explained, “Weakbrane is close by and we will be there very soon.⁶ It’s lovely, but don’t be alarmed when you see that, like the Branesville residents you encountered, Weakbrane residents scoff at the notion of four spatial dimensions. You, who can see out into the bulk, will see a huge shadow on Branesville, ten million billion times bigger than the one with which you started. Almost everything else will seem to you and to them to be entirely normal.”

But upon her arrival in Weakbrane, Athena noticed one other thing. The four-dimensional graviton had quietly accompanied the travelers on their journey and was softly tapping on her shoulder. He touched her so extremely gently that she had barely noticed.⁷

But she couldnt’ ignore the graviton when he launched into a litany of complaints. “Weakbrane would be so exciting, were it not for the superior influence of the entrenched hierarchy. The strong, weak, and electromagnetic armed forces on the Weakbrane permit me only the most feeble strength.” The graviton whined how everywhere else he was a force to be reckoned with, especially in Branesville, which is ruled by an oligarchy with comparably strong forces.⁸  Weakbrane, where gravity was the most suppressed, was the graviton’s least favorite place.⁹ The graviton turned to Athena in hope of enlisting her in his plan to wrest power from the reigning authorities.

Athena thought she had better leave immediately and looked around for the rabbit hole, but couldn’t find it. She did find a white rabbit, whom she expected to be an efficient guide. But the Weakbrane rabbit had an alarmingly sluggish gait, and kept repeating how happy he was that his date would wait.¹⁰ Athena realized that this rabbit wasn’t going anywhere, so she found a more anxious rabbit she could follow, and worked her way back home. Once she understood the physics implications, Athena enjoyed her dream enormously--though it should be noted that she never again ate cream cake.

¹ This title borrows from Martin Gardner’s delightful Annotated Alice, in which he explains the wordplay, math riddles, and references in Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland. ² The brane itself is large and flat and has only three spatial dimensions. Only gravity makes contact with the additional dimension. Remember that the five-dimensional space has four spatial dimensions (and one of time), whereas the brane has three spatial dimensions. I’ll still call time the fourth dimension, and I’ll call the additional dimension the fifth. ³ Branesville is the Gravitybrane. ⁴ The Fat Cat, unlike Branesville residents, is not confined to the brane. ⁵ Everything is bigger and lighter near the Weakbrane. Athena’s shadow over Branesville grew as she got closer to the Weakbrane and further away from the Gravitybrane. ⁶ The fifth dimension does not have to be very big in order to solve the hierarchy problem. ⁷ Gravity is feeble on the Weakbrane, where the graviton’s probability function is so small. ⁸ On the Gravitybrane, gravity is no weaker than the other forces. ⁹ The petulant graviton is complaining that on the Weakbrane, gravity is much weaker than the electromagnetic, weak, and strong forces. Gravity would be much stronger (and have a strength closer to that of the other forces) closer to the Gravitybrane. ¹⁰ Things are bigger and time is slower on the Weakbrane.  The rabbit’s laxness is accounted for by rescaling time. 

Profound Passage: An Infinite Extra Dimension

Athena woke up with a start. Her recurring dream had once again taken her down the rabbit hole. This time, however, she asked the rabbit to take her straight back to the warped five-dimensional world. Athena arrived back in Branesville (or so she thought). The Cat soon appeared, and she eagerly turned to him, anticipating her dream cake and a delightful excursion to the Weakbrane. She was sorely disappointed when the Cat told her there was no such thing as Weakbrane in this particular universe.*

Athena didn’t believe the Cat and thought there must be another brane further away. Proud of herself for understanding how, in the warped geometry, further-away branes had weaker gravity, she decided it was probably called the “Meekbrane” and asked the Cat whether she could go there.

But once again she was in for a disappointment. The Cat explained, “There is no such place. You are on the Brane; there are no others.”

“Curiouser and curiouser, thought Athena. This clearly wasn’t exactly the same space as before, since it had only a single brane. But Athena wasn’t ready to give up. “May I see for myself that there is no other brane?” she asked in her sweetest tone.

The Cat strongly advised her against it, warning, “Four-dimensional gravity on the brane is no guarantee of four-dimensional gravity in the bulk. Once I nearly lost everything but my smile there.”

Athena was a cautious girl, despite her many adventures, and she took the Cat’s warning to heart. But she often wondered what the Cat meant. What did lie beyond the Brane, and how would she ever know?

*The geomery of this chapter is warped, as in the previous ones, but now there is only a single brane--the Gravitybrane. Although this means that there is an infinite fifth dimension, this chapter will show why this is perfectly fine with the warped spacetime. 

A Reflective and Expansive Passage

Ike XLII as ready to live large. He wanted to test the Alicxvr’s ultra-high settings of many megaparsecs, with which he could explore places beyond the Galaxy and the known universe and experience distant regions no one had ever seen before.

So he was thrilled when the Alicxvr took him to distances 9, 12, and 13 billion light-years away. But his excitement diminished when he tried to go farther and his signal strength fell precipitously. When he aimed for 15 billion years, his exploration aborted completely: he no longer received any information at all. Instead, he heard, “Message 5B73: The Horizon customer you are trying to reach is beyond your calling area. If you need assistance, please contact your local long-distance operator.”

Ike couldnt’ believe his ears. It was the thirty-first century, yet his Horizon service still provided only limited coverage. When Ike tried to contact the operator, a recording said, “Please stay on the brane. Your call will be answered in the order in which it was received.” Ike suspected that the operator would never respond, and was wise enough not to wait.

Extra Dimensions: Are You In or Are You Out?

Athena’s dreams about OneDLand, branes, and five dimensions were passed down for generations. When Ike XLII heard them, he wanted to check whether there was any truth to her stories. So he took out his Alicxvr and went down to a very small scale--not so small that strings would appear, but sufficiently small to check whether there was a fifth dimension. The Alicxvr answered Ike’s question by sending him off to a five-dimensional world.

But Ike was not completely satisfied. He remembered the bizarre things that had happened earlier on when he had fooled around with the hyperdrive option. So he once again cranked up the hyperdrive lever--and once again, everything changed drastically. Ike couldn’t identify a single familiar point. He could tell only one thing: the fifth dimension had disappeared.

Ike was mystified, so he searched the spacernet to see what it could tell him about “dimensions.” He waded through numerous sites that he recognized from his more embarassing spam, but soon realized that he’d have to refine his search. When he still couldn’t find anything definitive, he conceded that he wouldn’t know the fundamental origin of dimensions any time soon. So he decided to turn his attention to time travel instead.

(In)Conclusion

Icarus Rushmore XLII used his time machine to visit the past and warn Icarus III of the disaster that awaited him should he continue driving his Porsche. Ike III was so astounded by his visitor from the future that he heeded Ike XLII’s warning. He traded in his Porsche for a Fiat and subsequently led a full, contented, and slower-paced life.

Athena was ecstatic to be reunited with her brother, and Dieter was happy to see his friend, though both of them were confused since it seemed as if Ike had never left. Athena and Dieter realized that the time travel that Ike reported to them was pure fiction. Even in dreams, the Cat never looped through time, the Rabbit never reached a stop with extra time dimensions, and the quantum detective refused to contemplate such odd behavior of time. But Athena and Dieter preferred happy endings. So they suspended disbelief and accepted Ike’s fantastic story all the same.

[swanqueeneverafter]

43. Lily, Pt.1

The Land Without Magic. New York. 9 Weeks Ago. (Robin, Marian and Roland are now living in Neal's old apartment.) Marian: “If this is New York, I'd hate to see the old one.” Robin: “Oh, we've been in tougher scrapes than this before. I'll admit, this modern world is a bit confusing.” Marian: “This is all my fault.” Robin: “Marian, if you hadn't left Storybrooke, you'd have died. I made the decision to come with you and bring Roland. Nobody forced my hand.” Marian: “I know. Your honour is your greatest strength.” Robin: “Do you remember what you said to me our first day as outlaws?” Marian: (Hesitates:) “I said so many things.” (Suddenly there is movement by the door.) Robin: “Roland, come here. Stand behind your mum.” (Robin picks up a knife and is ready to fight when Mr. Gold enters the apartment.) Mr. Gold: “What the hell are you doing here?” Robin: “What are you doing here?” Mr. Gold: “That's none of your concern. Your concern is removing yourself from the premises. This... This is my son's home. You're trespassing.” Robin: “No. This is our home now, and we're not going anywhere.” Mr. Gold: “Look I really don't have time for this. I've got business to attend to.” Robin: “What business could you possibly have in a world without magic?” Mr. Gold: “The business of my happiness. Now get out.” Robin: “Oh, you're here to find the Author, aren't you?” Mr. Gold: “So she told you. Of course she did. Well, then you'll also know that if I don't find the Author, Regina won't get her happy ending, either. Which might be good for you, too.” Robin: “I'm sorry, but I will not succumb to your games. I know better than to trust you. I have a wife and child. We need this home, and we're keeping it!” Mr. Gold: “No, no.” (Mr. Gold clutches his chest and collapses.) Robin: “Gold? Gold!” At The Hospital. (Robin waits in the emergency room. He is about to call Regina when a nurse finds him.) Nurse: “Sir? Your friend's awake.” In Mr. Gold's Bedroom. Robin: “What did the doctors say?” Mr. Gold: “Well, only what their small minds can comprehend. Prattling on about diets and exercise. They tell me it was a heart attack.” Robin: “But you have other ideas?” Mr. Gold: “My problem isn't physical. It's moral. All the dark deeds I've done... They've taken their toll, poisoned my heart... Thickened the blood. Back in Storybrooke, I used magic to protect myself. But out here... I won't last without some.” Robin: “Well, unfortunately for you, Dark One, there is no magic in this world.” Mr. Gold: “True. We can't create magic here. But we can use magical items if they were brought from elsewhere. Remember something from our past... The elixir of the wounded heart. Something I asked you to steal. Well, I think I might know where some of it exists. Right here in New York city. And I need you to get it for me.” Robin: “And why would I help you?” Mr. Gold: “Because you're a man with a code, a man of honour. And that, despite everything, is the reason why you will save me.” Storybrooke. Present. The Woods. (Emma is searching the woods for the Author when her parents catch up to her.) David: “The Author, where is he?” Emma: “We lost him.” Mary Margaret: “We know him, Emma.” Emma: “What?” Mary Margaret: “We met him a long time ago, before you were born. He, um...” David: “Manipulated us. It's because of him we were put on the path to causing Maleficent to lose her child.” Mary Margaret: “It's true.” Emma: “No. No, what's true is no matter how you were manipulated, you still did what you did, and you lied to me about it! You've been lying to me about everything! About you, about me...” David: “That's not the case. It's one incident from our past.” Emma: “Don't you dare downplay it.” Mary Margaret: “Well, we've changed. We've tried to become the parents you deserve.” Emma: “I am only the Savior because you altered the entire state of my being at the expense of someone else's soul!” David: “You're right. What we did, it was wrong. But we... We didn't fully understand what we were doing. We acted out of fear. We're human.” Emma: “Yeah, well, right now I don't care. None of that matters now. We have to find that Author before Gold does.”

The Land Without Magic. 9 Weeks Ago. (Robin stands over Mr. Gold with the elixir in hand.) Mr. Gold: “You found it!” Robin: “Indeed. ‘The Wizard of Oak.’ That was his cover while in our world.” Mr. Gold: “Yes, well, apparently being great and powerful did not mean witty. But he was effective. Zelena sent him to New York to keep an eye on Emma. She would have been a fool to send him without precautions... Magical charms, potions.” Robin: “Lucky for you your assumption paid off. (As Mr. Gold reaches for the potion:) And now that I've made good on my promise, we need to strike a deal.” Mr. Gold: “Well, make it quick.” Robin: “Before this potion heals you, you will move on. Your son's apartment belongs to me now, and I never want to see you there again.” Mr. Gold: “It's yours. Take it. Now give me what's mine.” Robin: (Placing the potion on the tray in front of him:) “Good riddance, Rumplestiltskin. Our dealings are done.” (He leaves the room.) Mr. Gold: (Reaches for the bottle:) “Goodbye, thief. (Mr. Gold drinks the potion:) It's not working. It's not working. (Throws the bottle against the wall, shattering it:) Why isn't it working?” Marian: (Entering the room holding the real potion:) “Because it's not real magic.” Mr. Gold: “What?” Marian: “I tried to convince Robin to let you die, but he just wouldn't listen to reason. So here I am.” Mr. Gold: “You switched the vials.” Marian: “I did. The one you drank won't cure your heart, but it will lessen the effects of seven cold and flu symptoms. Don't worry, it's non-drowsy.” Mr. Gold: “Why are you doing this? I've done you no harm.” Marian: “That's not exactly true.” (Marian reaches for her necklace and rubs it, transforming into her true self: Zelena.) Mr. Gold: “Zelena! ... How is this possible?” Zelena: “Imported magic, dear. Never travel between realms without it. You remember the six-leaf clover from Oz, don't you? It's quite the effective glamour spell.” Mr. Gold: (Panicked:) “No, no. I killed you.” Zelena: “Mm, you tried. When you stabbed me in that jail cell, I didn't die. My life force simply fled my body before it shattered. I had somewhere to go. Or should I say some time?” Mr. Gold: “You followed Emma through the time portal.”

Zelena: “That I did. Once I managed to literally put myself together, I sought out the person I was looking for. Sat some distance away from the action, recording everything for prosperity... was the Author." Mr. Gold: "No." Zelena: "Oh yes. I mean how else did you think I was going to alter my fate and make sure it stuck? Yes, I could've followed my original plan and killed Snow White's mother but that still wouldn't have guaranteed my happy ending. No, what I needed was something a little more... ironclad." Mr. Gold: "The Author can't change what's already written." Zelena: (Sighs:) “No, he told me as much when I found him. Which is why it was imperative that I be the one who cast the time travel spell, to ensure that I ended up exactly where and when I needed to be. But, I didn't let that ruin my fun. We had quite the philosophical debate, the Author and I. He was quite adamant about how it was his job to merely record the events that unfolded. That to interfere in any way would be against the rules." Mr. Gold: “So after everything, you failed.” Zelena: "Oh, I wouldn't say so. He didn't look too pleased when I showed him what the Savior and the one handed half-wit were up to. Changing the course of history and using the Author's very own book to do it? He had quite the determined glint in his eye when he left the Enchanted Forest to travel to another realm. But, with my hopes of changing my past dashed, I had to come up with a new plan. And when I realized what Emma had planned for Marian, well... Inspiration struck! And then I struck. For a few careless moments, they left her unattended, and that was all I needed… I killed her… And then I became her. I took her form. Do you know, it wasn’t easy not being me, but it certainly beat being dead." Mr Gold: “Marian... Never made the trip... To Storybrooke.” Zelena: “No. No, dear. It was me all along. And, you know, no one's been the wiser. Not her husband, not even her child. I mean, she's as dead as, well... Your son. Oh. Oh, that's right. I suppose that means you never avenged his death. That... You failed. Oops. (Gold's heart stops and alarms sound from the various machines he’s hooked up to. Knocking on Gold’s chest:) Hollow. What a beautiful echo. (The nurses and the doctors arrive:) Oh, please! Help him!” 

A Short Time Later. (Zelena stands over Mr. Gold who now has a breathing tube inserted. Mr. Gold wakes up and tenses immediately.) Zelena: “Shh. Shush, dear. Don't try to talk. Look at the magic in this world, Rumple. A tube that breathes for you. My, your predicament does look painful. You know, there's a time I would have relished this. And with your vendetta against me for the death of your son that would make this a strong practical choice. But, see, I'm not done telling you about my clever plan. I was going to use my little Marian-glamour to steal Robin's heart, to make him fall in love with me, to steal Regina's fated true love. How ultimate, you know? Sadly, it didn't take. I can't win his heart. Something is standing in the way like a... Like a stone wall. Could be fate. Could be true love or some other bias in the universe towards those who deserve happiness. But whatever it is, I am certain that the Author can simply force a happy ending for me. And if there's anyone that could find him and bend him to their will, well, my money's on the Dark One. Or should I say the deathly pale one? Anyway, whatever your plan is with the Author, I want my happy ending built into it. You'd also have to stop trying killing me, of course. (Doing her best impression of the Dark One:) But, dearie, what does old Rumple get out of it? I mean, you are aware I have a certain potion that fixes hearts. I don't know if it could cure this little lump of coal you've got in your narrow little chest. But it will get you back home. Your life for mine. That seems rather fair. Do we have a deal? If we do? Simply blink.” (Mr. Gold stares daggers at Zelena before, finally, blinking his assent.) Storybrooke. Present. Regina’s Vault. (Regina calls Robin.) Regina: “Robin?” Marian/Zelena: “No, it's not Robin.” Regina: “Marian?” Marian/Zelena: “Not exactly.” (Using the necklace, Marian turns into Zelena.) Zelena: “Hello, sis.” Regina: “No... No, it can't be.” Zelena: “Oh, but it is.” Regina: “Zelena. But how? I saw you die.” Zelena: “You thought you saw me die.” Regina: “Where's Robin? This is his phone. What have you done with him?” Zelena: “I haven't done anything except love and honour him in sickness and in health, to have and to hold and all that other wifely nonsense.” Regina: “I-I don't understand.” Zelena: “Well, you don't have to. All you need to know is that while Robin thinks it's his wide-eyed wife cooking dinner for him every night, it's actually me. Oh, I've got to run, sis. He'll be home soon, and I've got a meatloaf in the oven.” Regina: “No...” Zelena: “Oh, you sound like you need a moment. Take it. I'm sure we'll see each other again very soon. Ta-ta.” (Zelena hangs up.) Regina: (To Gold:) “You knew.” Mr. Gold: (Nods:) "Zelena is the reason you began your search for the Author to begin with. She planted the idea in your head when, as Marian on the night she returned, she told your son that you would always be a monster." Regina: (Remembering:) “And that Henry only need to read his storybook to know who I really was. That bitch." Mr. Gold: “Your sister played you perfectly.” Regina: “Well you’d know all about that.” Mr. Gold: “Regina, this needn’t be cause for us to not get what we both desire. When I told you I wished you happiness, I meant it.” Regina: “Zelena murdered your son!” Mr. Gold: “Well, Zelena and I have come to... An understanding. Regina, you are vital to my plan to turn the Savior towards darkness. If Emma turns dark and becomes a villain like us, you can still be together and we can all find our happy endings.” Regina: (Shakes her head:) “You made me a monster. But I won't let you do the same to Emma.” Mr. Gold: “Don’t mistake me, dearie. Miss Swan will turn to the darkness one way or the other. So when I do find the Author, you’re going to have to ask yourself one question. Do I want my story to be a happy life together with my son and the woman I love, or do I want to end up alone, unloved, forever?” (Regina lunges at Mr. Gold before he disappears in a cloud of smoke.)

Storybrooke. The Woods. (As Emma, Henry and the Charmings are closing in, Isaac is attempting to fashion himself a new quill from a branch of wood.) Mr. Gold: (Appearing beside him:) “Well, I'm not much of a writer, but I do know something about magic quills.” Isaac: “Such as?” Mr. Gold: “Well, for starters, they must be sculpted from the wood of enchanted trees, which, unfortunately for you, is not an attribute any of the timber in Storybrooke possesses.” Isaac: (Snaps the branch in two:) “Damn it! I need to go.” Mr. Gold: “Yes, you do. Or, um... You could come with me.” Isaac: “Why would I do that? You're quite possibly the biggest pain in the ass I have ever had the displeasure of writing about.” Mr. Gold: “Yes, there is that. But there's also... (Reaches into his jacket and produces a quill:) This.” Isaac: “What do you want from me?” Mr. Gold: “You are gonna write me a whole bunch of new happy endings.” (Isaac looks to see the heroes quickly approaching.) Isaac: “Okay.” Mr. Gold: “I thought so.” (Mr. Gold waves his hand and both of them disappear.) Storybrooke. The Next Morning. (Cruella speeds down the road in her car until she is halted by Maleficent. Giving an annoyed sigh, Cruella exits the vehicle.) Maleficent: “We need to talk.” Cruella: “Good thing I had my brakes serviced, darling. I do hate getting blood on the car.” Maleficent: “There's still time for that. Tell me about Lily.” Cruella: “Sorry. Who?” Maleficent: “My daughter, Lily. You told me she didn't survive the trip to this world. You lied.” Cruella: “Perhaps I did. Um, but there's an explanation, of course. You see, um... I'm a really terrible person, and I left her in the woods to die.” Maleficent: “You did what?” Cruella: “Oh, don't be so flabbergasted. You know I'm not mother material. I took that dragon egg she was in. Oh, the magic helped me stay young, you know. Wonderful thing. But the little brat...” Maleficent: “My daughter.” Cruella: “Yes. Well...” Maleficent: “You should know your death is going to last for days.” (Maleficent transforms into a dragon. As the creature stalks towards her, Cruella uses her powers to subdue the beast.) Cruella: “Oh, I was so hoping you'd do that. People always underestimate a girl in diamonds and furs, don't they? I mean, no one guessed what I was really after. Not Gold. Certainly not you. But now that the Author is here, today is the day that I get mine. Now be a good girl, lie down, and take a nap.” (The dragon lays down and falls asleep.) Blanchard Loft. (The Charming's return home.) Emma: “You have to remember something else about the Author, some way to find him. Now think.” David: “We told you everything we know.” Emma: “Are we sure about that? Because secrets just keep coming out.” Mary Margaret: “Okay. You're clearly still upset.” Emma: “Yes, I'm still upset. You were the ones who taught me there is always a right way. A heroic way. And what you did to Maleficent's child...” David: “It was our only option to make sure you grew up... Good.” Emma: (Scoffs:) “Other than raising me yourself of course. You know, you blame the curse but, did you even plan to raise me or would I have ended up calling the wet nurse ‘Mom’ and one of the dwarfs ‘Dad’.” Henry: (Chiding:) “Mom.” Emma: (Sighs, shakes her head:) “I'm sorry, but if it were me, no matter what, I would not harm a defenseless person. (Regina enters the loft. Sighs, relieved:) Regina, thank God. Where have you been?”

Regina: (Hugs Henry:) “In the middle of a very bad day. I'll tell you the whole story later, after I rescue Roland and Robin Hood.” Henry: “Robin Hood?” Emma: “What are you talking about?” Regina: “It turns out that Marian... She's not really Marian at all.” David: “So who is she?” Regina: “Zelena.” David: “The wicked witch?” Regina: “I don't know how it's possible, but my sister has been masquerading as her this entire time. And she's in league with Gold. So I'm going to New York to stop her.” Mary Margaret: “And what about Gold? If they're working together, he's not just gonna let you waltz off and spoil his plans.” Regina: “I wouldn't worry about Gold. I know exactly how to handle him.” Mr. Gold’s Shop. (Belle takes some books from the counter and puts them in a cabinet behind her. When she turns back, Regina is standing there.) Belle: “Oh! Regina, I didn't, uh, didn't hear you come in.” Regina: “Your ex-husband has done quite a number on me, Belle.” Belle: “Oh. I'm, uh... Sorry to hear that.” Regina: “And now he wants me to work with him.” Belle: “Uh, well, I'm sure that would be a mistake.” Regina: “I know it is.” Belle: “How can I help?” Regina: (Smiling:) “I'm glad you asked.” Mr. Gold's Cabin. (Mr. Gold brings Issac to the cabin.) Isaac: “Well, this is certainly homey. Antlers are a nice touch. Makes me feel like Hemingway. Or maybe Thoreau. (Offers his hand to Mr. Gold:) Name's Isaac, by the way.” Mr. Gold: “Do you always talk this much?” Isaac: “Only when I'm nervous. And you still have my quill.” Mr. Gold: “Yeah. Well, for now, let's call it... My quill.” Isaac: “You know, it's worthless without its ink.” Mr. Gold: “Oh, I'm aware, and I plan to obtain some very soon.” Isaac: “Yeah. And just how are you gonna do that?” Mr. Gold: “Simple. Now you're here, I'm gonna turn the Savior dark.” Isaac: “What will that accomplish?” Mr. Gold: “Once her heart has been blackened, everything I need shall fall into place. You'll see soon enough, when my associates return.” Isaac: “Your associates seem to have a taste for fur. And perfume. Can't wait to meet them.” Mr. Gold: “Surely you must know them from your stories.” Isaac: “Know of them, sure, but an author rarely gets...” Mr. Gold: (Sensing something:) “Be quiet. Don't say another word. Something's just come up. You stay here till I return.” Isaac: “Until you return? But who's gonna... (Mr. Gold leaves in a cloud of smoke:) Protect me?” 

The Wishing Well. (Belle is repeating Rumplestiltskin’s name over and over trying to summon him when he arrives.) Belle: “Rumplestiltskin. Rumple...” Mr. Gold: “Hello, Belle.” Belle: “Hello.” Mr. Gold: “This is a curious place to meet.” Belle: “Do you, uh, do you remember what you told me here the night of our vows? How I chased all the darkness out of you?” Mr. Gold: “Belle, look, I'm sorry for everything.” Belle: “No. No apologies today. For once in my life, I just want the truth. Why are you here, Rumple? Are you... Are you trying to win me back?” Mr. Gold: “It's a bit more complicated than that.” (Mr. Gold rips out his heart. His heart is dark except a little red spot.) Belle: “Rumple?” Mr. Gold: “It seems that centuries of dark deeds do take their toll. And all that's left of it... Is this. And pretty soon, that will be gone, too.” Belle: “Well... Will you die?” Mr. Gold: “In a manner of speaking, yes. I will lose any ability to love. And that goodness that you once saw inside of me... Well, that'll be gone forever. There's only one man who can reverse this process, and that's the Author. That's why I'm here in Storybrooke. (Puts his heart back in his chest:) I don't expect you to understand, of course.” Belle: “But I... I-I do understand.” Mr. Gold: “You do?” Belle: “Sometimes I worry... I worry I threw out the chipped teacup too soon. (Overcome with emotion, Mr. Gold kisses Belle:) You know what the problem is, though? Will is just such a better kisser than you are.” Mr. Gold: “W-what?” Belle: “You're pathetic. Watching you come groveling back to me, it's like a dog begging for scraps.” Mr. Gold: “Why are you saying that? This isn't like you, Belle.” Regina: “But it is so like me.” (Regina arrives holding Belle’s heart in her hand.) Mr. Gold: “Regina.” Regina: (Speaks into the heart:) “Now forget all this and run along home.” (Belle obeys and leaves.) Mr. Gold: “You have no idea just how much I'm gonna make you suffer for this.” Regina: “Oh, you're not gonna do a thing, unless you wanna see what happens when I take this heart and squeeze.” Mr. Gold: “Come on. We both know you don't have it in you.” Regina: “Don't I? You think you can threaten the woman I love and I won’t retaliate in kind?” (Begins to squeeze the heart.) Mr. Gold: “All right, all right. I believe you.” Regina: “Good. So I'm headed to New York now. And if you breathe one word of this to Zelena, you won't be the only one who loses a heart.” Mr. Gold's Cabin. (Isaac is reading a book as Cruella enters.) Cruella: “Don't bother studying the greats, darling. You'll never be one of them... Hello, Isaac. Never thought you'd see me again, did you?” Isaac: “I was certainly hoping not to.” Cruella: “Then why don't you make this easy and give me back what you took?” Isaac: “Can't do it. Sorry.” Cruella: (Grabs him by the throat:) “With one whistle, I can send a hundred snarling dogs after you.” Isaac: “I know you could, after all I am the one who gave you that particular power. But you and I both know that even with all your magic, you don't have enough power to hurt me.” Cruella: (Frustrated, she releases him:) “I do hate it when you're right, darling. Though I do like this new shade of confidence. It's so... Masculine. Are you sure you can't help a girl out? For old time's sake?” Isaac: “Not a chance.” Cruella: “Well, then you will pay for what you did when you made me what I am.” Isaac: “You know, idle threats don't make for good drama. But I do see one interesting story developing here.” Cruella: “Really? And what's that?” Isaac: “Rumplestiltskin has no idea that we know each other. Which means that... You lied to him. So from one old friend to another, you should probably be gone before he gets back.” Cruella: “Oh, you always did know how to infuriate a girl, didn't you? Well, enjoy the upper hand while it's still on your wrist, because I think you'll find... There's more than one way to skin an Author.” 

[belliesareneat]

Title: Eat

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Word Count: 1900

Pairings: Toshinori/Aizawa

Warnings: It’s a fat kink/weight gain story y’all.

Summary: Several years ago, Shouta and Toshinori had been in love. Toshinori had even been planing to propose, but the relationship fell apart, and the two split up. After his fight with All for One, Toshinori struggles to keep weight up.

When Shouta and Toshinori had been dating, they had shared and engaged in a mutual kink which led to Toshinori becoming a bit softer around the middle. So when he keeps losing weight, Toshinori does the logical thing and asks his ex for help.

Because there’s no way that could go wrong.

Chapter: 1 (Prologue)

Toshinori loathed going to the doctor. After the injury, he was forced to find a good doctor who could keep a secret about his true form. Every time he visited doctor Higoshi Hiroe, she would always have bad news for him.

“Your lung isn't healing properly. You need to take it easy.”

“Your remaining organs have shifted around. We're going to have to operate and put silicon in the space of your missing organs.”

“You're malnourished. Honestly, I'm surprised you can fight like you do. Most other men wouldn't be able to get out of bed.”

Toshinori would always smile and take whatever bad news she said with a laugh. Responding to grief and pain with happiness had been in response for so long that it had become second nature.

Still, he hated visiting her. It was always one more reminder that his time as All Might was dwindling and that his true form was nothing more than a weak, empty bag of flesh.

“You've lost two pounds this month,” Dr. Hiroe announced.

Toshinori looked at the scale. He gently patted his middle.

“I'll start eating extra at dinner.”

Dr. Hiroe ignored his lie.

The lights made him feel hot. Several people in crowd were holding up signs declaring their love for him. This interview would get high ratings. All Might was proud of himself, and he felt honored that he was able to be the pillar of strength that Japan deserved.

The talk show host was a man in his late forties. Both he and Toshinori were dressed in nice suits. Toshinori's clothing was stretched over his muscular form. He gave a laugh as he answered the host's latest questions.

“Nonsense! There is nowhere I'd rather be, nothing I'd rather do than serve the people of Japan! Being a hero is everything I wanted to be.”

The host gave a polite laugh in return.

“And we're lucky to have you. Japan has never been safer than we have been at home, but surely there is more to All Might than the hero we know? What do you do on your days off?”

All Might had no days off. Even when he was at home, his phone was on in case anyone needed him, and he was always listening for cries of help.

“Of course, I am always working out to maintain my physical shape. When I have the time, I like to cook a new dish or watch a movie.”

Eating had once been one of his favorite things to do. Now, he would skip lunch if it was inconvenient, and when he did eat, he'd only get through a quarter of what he used to. He would often make his favorite meals to try to convince himself to eat, and while it often worked, he rarely found time for it.

“I love to cook myself, but anytime I try, my wife chases me out of the kitchen.” The audience laughed. “Speaking of spouses, is there anyone special in your life, All Might?”

The question caught him off guard, and a small, awkward silence filled the air.

Since becoming All Might, Toshinori had been in one relationship, and that had ended six years ago. Aizawa still held a special place in his heart, though Toshinori wasn't sure what it was. He would keep an eye out for the hero Eraserhead when he read the news even though he knew he would never be in it. He didn't pine for the man, but a part of him still considered him a friend, even if they hadn't spoken in years.

Slipping back into character, All Might laughed.

“My husband is Japan! I could never cheat on him.”

Him, because All Might's sexuality had never been a secret.

The host nodded.

“And we're lucky to have you! Now, you said you enjoyed cooking. What's your signature dish?”

“I make a mean bowl of tonkotsu ramen It's delicious! Now, it's very rich, so it's not something I can have every night, but if you're interested, I can share the recipe with you.”

“I thank we'd all like that,” the talk show host said, and the crowd cheered.

Toshinori stepped on the scale. The doctor's office was quiet, and Toshinori felt his insides twist as he waited for the numbers to stop spinning.

When they did, he scolded himself for skipping dinner the previous night. He had been tired and didn't want to cook, but he should have forced himself to.

The doctor looked up from her clipboard to read the scale.

“Your weight's continuing to go down. Your health is bad enough as it is. Keep it up, and I wouldn't be surprised if you started collapsing, even as All Might.”

Toshinori winced.

“I know. I'll try to take better care of myself.”

Because this was all his fault. This was avoidable.

Dr. Hiroe sighed. “We can insert a feeding tube into your intestines, if you like. It could make things easier. You could plug it up while you sleep, and you would get all your nutrients.”

Once, Toshinori had been chubby. He looked forward to every meal, and eating was so pleasurable he'd get hard from it. Now, he was malnourished and dreaded meals.

Her offer felt like an insult to him. He shook his head.

“No thank you. I'll handle this myself.”

In thinking things over, Toshinori decided that the best way for him to put on weight would be by not handling things by himself.

His hand was shaking slightly as he selected the contact.

The phone rang, and his heart raced as he heard the man on the other side pick up.

“All Might? What's up? It's not like you to call me.”

Toshinori inflated to his more muscular form.

“Aizawa! I know it his been years since we spoke, but I-”

He heard Aizawa sigh, and though he didn't ask him to, Toshinori returned to his normal state. Aizawa had always preferred Toshinori over All Might.

“...I want to ask you for a favor,” Toshinori said in his normal voice.

“Me?” Aizawa asked.

“Yes. You're the only one who could help me with his, or I wouldn't ask.”

“What is it?”

“It's not something I want to ask over the phone. Want to meet at that cafe we used to go to?”

“Just tell me over the phone. Is it hero business?”

Toshinori gulped. “No, it's personal. It's something I should ask in person.”

“Alright. What day?”

“Tuesday? I can meet you there at two.”

“Works for me.” There was a pause, then Aizawa added, “All Might, how are you? We haven't spoken in awhile.”

“I-”

How was he supposed to answer that? He couldn't just admit that his health was horrible and that he was planning to pass One for All to someone else. But he had to answer, and if he said good, he'd be lying.

“I've had better days. You know how it is. Being a hero is hard on the body.”

“Uh-hu.”

There was another awkward pause.

“So I'll see you Tuesday!”

“Yep.”

Aizawa hung up.

The coffee shop was warm and cozy. Toshinori wrapped his malnourished body in an oversized t-shirt, and while he waited, he sipped on coffee. He put a generous amount of creamer in it, and it almost drowned out the taste of the drink. Finishing an entire cup of coffee would leave him feeling full, but any calories were good calories. He was half-way through his cup when Aizawa walked in. He was looking around the cafe, and he actually walked right past Toshinori.

It was so strange to see him in person. Toshinori could still feel those hands in him, and he remembered perfectly how their bodies felt pushed together.

“Aizawa,” Toshinori called out.

Aizawa noticed him. Aizawa was not a very expressive man. His emotions just didn't make it to his face. Still, his eyes widened at the sight of the other superhero.

“Toshinori...? God. What happened to you?”

“It's a long story.” Toshinori gestured to the seat across from him, and Aizawa sat in it.

“Is it related to the favor you need?”

There was no small talk with Aizawa.

“Yes. You see...” Even though no one but Aizawa knew he was All Might, Toshinori still dropped his volume to a whsiper. “Five years ago, during a fight, I suffered horrible damage. I lost one of my lungs, and my stomach had to be removed.”

Aizawa was able to see the realization cross his face.

“Shit,” the hero said.

Toshinori nodded.

“And that's what I would like your help for. Lately, I hate food. It's a pain.” Every meal was a reminder that he wasn't taking care of himself, and that if he didn't change, he'd keep getting weaker and weaker. “Aizawa, I want you to help me put on weight.”

Aizawa just stared at him.

“Yagi, what you're asking...”

“I know. It's a horrible thing for me to ask but...I've said everything I wanted to.”

Aizawa rubbed his forehead, which Toshinori remembered meant he was thinking hard.

“You should get a doctor to put you on a diet, not me. I have a fetish. I'm not a nutritionist.”

“I have, and I have had multiple meal plans made for me, but they don't make me want to eat.”

Not like Aizawa had.

“Are you talking about a friends with benefits, or...?”

Toshinori gulped.

“If that's how you want to do things.”

Because food had become sexual with them, and if Aizawa was going to help him put on weight, he knew he was going to be turned on by it.

And really, what better motivator was there than sex?

“Give me some time to think about it.”

“Of course.” There was an awkward moment of silence. “So, Aizawa, how have you been?”

He had missed the other man. He yearned to learn what he had been up to since they split.

The two of them talked until Toshinori's unfinished coffee grew cold, and it was not because he couldn't finish it but because he had forgotten it was there.

Toshinori got a text at three in the morning. He was meeting with Nezu about a potential successor for One for All tomorrow and knew he should get some sleep before that, but he couldn't.

I'll help you, read the text Aizawa sent him. Are you free tomorrow for lunch?

We can talk about what you can and can't eat.

Toshinori squinted at the light of his phone.

I am, he typed back. Where are we meeting?

The burger place by my apartment.

And get some rest, Yagi. No one should be up at this hour.

I'll try. Thank you. I will see you tomorrow.

Toshinori couldn't help but smile at the text. Then, against his better judgment, he sent another one.

But that's a bit hypocritical, don't you think?

Go to bed, Aizawa replied seconds later.

[cosmosogler]

hnnnnnnnnnnnghhhhhhhhhhhh

i woke up on time but i didn’t want to do anything so i ended up getting out of the shower late. and then eating breakfast late. i was hungry, and i knew i had to teach for four hours straight, so i made four waffles instead of two. and a pbj, and the rest of my lunch, in the last 5 minutes before i left instead of like 15.

i biked to campus pretty fast... i got to class 1 minute before it started. i did my lecture and stuff and tried to be a lot more active with the matter model. 

they asked another question that stumped me and i’m embarrassed because my notes were wrong too and i had to correct them when i figured it out. i’m embarrassed because it’s a basic physics newton’s laws sort of thing.

i was hung up on why the force on the sensor and the frictional force are always equal even when the block the sensor is attached to is accelerating. i looked up the horse and cart problem and understood it way better... two hours after the students had asked and the new section had started.

it really rustles my jimmies that i can’t make the three sections of exactly equal quality. i feel like i let my students down when i can’t very well explain a concept to them specifically, but i can to the next group!!!

suzanne mentioned today that she has a lot of trouble with basic stuff too, along with jennica, just because we haven’t taken the classes in forever. i did apologize to the students while trying to answer the question- i said i’d been working with energy for so long that forces didn’t really mean anything any more. we don’t even work with any numbers in class basically.

i was so exhausted afterward but i only had a five minute lunch break to shove the entire pbj in my mouth before i had to head over for my psychiatry appointment. i let the doctor prompt me on which information she wanted, but i did have a list of things to talk about in my life in chronological order to keep me on topic. i think it was a productive meeting since i kept it kind of, more organized than if i was just rambling about my childhood for an hour and a half, you know? 

she raised her eyebrows a couple times... especially at the stuff leading up to and just after my heart surgery. i don’t know if i’m too focused on the negatives or what but i really just remember having a pretty bad time social life wise. 

i know one family did come to visit me in the hospital- actually it was a student i didn’t spend a lot of time with. joey. he and his family came to bring me a card and hang out in the common area for a few minutes to see how i was doing. i was hooked up to my iv and i think i had just gotten the drainage tube out so i was on some strong painkillers. mom must have been talking to them. i fell asleep in the wheelchair.

it was too much i guess. the painkillers on top of the effort of keeping up with a conversation while my insides were still putting themselves back in place after getting a garden hose yanked out of my entire chest cavity.

i guess some people care more than they let on. and some people care less. he didn’t really do much to help me out with the bullying that doubled down after i got back. i still reflexively punch people that try to tickle or touch my nerve-damaged side. maybe his parents were more worried than he was. i dunno. it was 15 years ago.

now that i think about it... what the doctor said i should have had, at the hospital and going back to school afterward... i’m really upset. at the time i’d blinked and smiled and said “none of that ever occurred to me.” 

but now i’m really sad. knowing what i didn’t have that should have been provided, i guess. i told her the hospital really was very busy, and that my parents were basically always around so they must have thought i was covered. and i had no idea the school was supposed to, i guess, assign some kind of buddy to make sure i could get around okay? 

i’ve already talked about the wheelchair. 

near the end she said “it sounds like no one’s really been there to support you.” i said “yes.” and showed her my teeth. it wasn’t really a smile. i think she could tell though. wasn’t foolin no one.

she made sure my meds were refilled for the next month. i talked about my grandparents too. on glenn’s side. how nice they were to me. i can’t say how they treated everyone, or even glenn and my uncle don, but the people who attended grandma pearl’s funeral had only the most glowing, actually kind of really sincerely fond memories.

uncle don seems to have had a complicated relationship with his parents. but he loved them enough to take care of them for a very long time after they got old. glenn didn’t. i don’t think i should ask what happened. i know parenting is hard and there’s probably not a perfect way to do it. but there’s... functional ways to do it. and i hope that they were functional parents.

anyway i caught the bus back to the physics building and had sooo much trouble sitting down to actually study. i didn’t want to open anything or even get out my notebook to try some practice problems. i sent danielle at the drc a semi-long email about my academic progress, since i had that midterm on tuesday, and some concerns about the upcoming friday test.

after that i strongarmed jennica into getting dinner with me. we went to subway. she didn’t actually want anything but i figured some exercise might help her settle down, and also it gave suzanne a small break. entropy can get contagious and jennica had been stopping her to look at this or that dress for several minutes. and i appreciated the company. going to subway alone when i’m so exhausted is super awkward. at least with jennica there if i couldn’t make a decision quickly enough i could smile apologetically at the lady behind the counter and say “sorry, i’m hella tired.” and jennica would laugh and the moment would continue.

it ended up not helping jennica that much but it did help me to get some food. 

i think this was after i realized mom never put the 900 dollars back into my bank account. i talked seriously with jennica and taylor about some bank options and how to switch my direct deposit and stuff. they said it’s super easy. i asked one of them to go with me on saturday to make sure i get a good deal. taylor said that wouldn’t be a risk but jennica told me a couple things to watch out for and i think she also agreed to go with me but i’m not 100% sure on that.

anyway, after i ate i was in a much better mood. not a good mood, but a less bad one. i did finally get out my notebook and start... actually taking notes on the textbook. i didn’t get very far at all- i was interrupted- but i felt like it was working for me a little bit. i was trying to take the equations, and finding the main ideas for how we interpret those equations, and then writing that down in my own words. it’s been four hours and i still remember the difference between poisson’s equation and laplace’s equation- even though laplace is just a special case of poisson. i think, if i can identify the most important ideas behind the main equations given in the text, i can write that down and that will help me remember what the hell green’s theorem is or whatever next time it comes up on a test.

i also tried something new after i was interrupted. suzanne had gone to talk about the class with one of the undergrads in the same section and he allowed me to sit in on the session while we worked through practice problems covered in class. 

suzanne made it so much easier though.

the new thing i tried is that i tried to basically repeat what suzanne was saying but in my own words. and i asked questions about what each variable *was*. and if i felt i didn’t understand it well enough i said it again a different way. 

i couldn’t tell if it was slowing her and john down or not. i tried to pull back on the goofs at least. i also talked to john a little bit just trying to identify what it is about the professor’s lectures that has me so lost. and i figured it out!

he takes these practice problems from the book but then generalizes them to include all cases. this turns his math into monstrous entire-blackboard-spanning messes of variables and summations. and he skips important logic steps so it looks even more like a wall of chalk.

suzanne walked us through the simplest cases and then explained how some parts could be expanded to account for harder scenarios. i found that SUPER helpful because it let me point out myself where something could be made more complicated. 

i have a lot of trouble with lectures, but conversations are so much easier. i don’t necessarily remember exact words or phrases but the idea sticks with me a little better. maybe it’s an active listening thing? or a participation thing. i had a good time in discussion-based classes back at villanova too.

i like john though. i hope he likes me enough to let me intrude on his tutoring time again. i felt bad that i was explaining really basic concepts- not to him, but to myself. but he seemed to react as if i was kind of, splainin at him about how image charges worked. 

really it was because i had to remind myself a couple times that they are not actual charges that appear in a grounded plane as a response to a real charge. they are a math thing we use because it’s convenient.

hopefully that helps tomorrow on the test! i think the discussions are starting to help a little more... now that i’m getting less anxious about not getting stuff right away. i mean taylor and jennica give me Looks, sometimes, when i ask for a definition i should probably know by now. i get turned around by the notation kind of easily though, especially when i’m trying to identify the point where i stopped understanding the question. but if Looks are the worst they can do, well, i’ve had worse happen. in this department! with the e&m professor. 

in the conservatory, with a knife.

dated jokes are the best.

anyway i think that is also going to be my good thing about myself for today because i am already running kind of late since mom called and wanted to chat for 10 minutes while i was trying to write. i got my test tomorrow. so i will try to rest now.

[trooperst-3v3rp]

There was a loud explosion coming from Adeline's lab she had been messing with chemicals and miscalulated a chemical amount leaving her on the ground in a smaller form and her droid destoried

ST-3V3 was in his quarters mulling over inventory reports when his personal communicator broke the silence with a very particular screech; one he’d hoped never to hear on this ship. A string of swear words escaped his lips in a rainbow of languages both alien and droid.“Language, ST-3V3!” Shouted a robotic voice from the next room.“No time for your shenanigans, K8! There’s been an explosion on the ship!”He panicked a little as he pulled a small datapad from his utility belt and looked at the flashing screen. Kriff.“K8! Load up Gary’s tool bags and tell him to meet me in the officers’ quarters!”He didn’t wait for a response. He just ran as fast as his armor would allow.Only minutes later, huffing and puffing, he reached the hall that housed the officers, and he immediately spotted a thin stream of smoke escaping from under one of the doors. There it is. He punched his master code into a hidden keypad, heart pounding, The smoke cleared almost immediately as the door opened with a whoosh. The room was small; not much more than a bed, a refresher and…a small makeshift lab? Why would an officer need a lab like this in their room when there were plenty of work spaces on the ship, with better equipment even. ST-3V3 allowed himself to relax a little, after realizing there had been no hull breach. The lab had obviously been the cause of the explosion, though. Most of the work table was charred black, and the floor was littered with broken test tubes and beakers dripping with thick liquids. He silently hoped he wasn’t breathing in anything terribly toxic. Soon after, Gary entered the room, beeping in distress as he approached ST-3V3, zig-zagging to avoid the debris on the floor.Intent on surveying the full scope of the damage, ST-3V3 let out a yelp when something grabbed his leg. Oh no. Someone was here. He looked down, expecting to see an injured officer on the floor. Instead, he saw…a youngling? There were rarely ever younglings on the ship. Most were shipped off to training as soon as they could walk. No time for those kind of musings now, though. She seemed fine enough, but her feet were bare and there was too much broken glass on the floor. Thinking quickly, he scooped up the child in one arm and stripped the sheet off the little bed in the corner and fashioned a sling. “There you go, kid.” he cooed as he tucked the youngling into it. “Now try not to move too much. Stevey has work to-” Oh no.Something shiny in the corner of the room caught his eye. A droid. An R5 unit, to be specific. R5-2918 to be even more specific.This room belonged to Adeline, sole female clone of General Armitage Tux. ST-3V3 panicked anew. “ADELINE!” He called, desperate. “ADDIE! Are you here? Are you okay?”“AD-,” The child strapped to his chest laughed. “-die?” He looked at the youngling - really looked at her - for the first time. Red hair. Pale skin. “Oh, Addie. What did you do?” She had obviously been working on something, and whatever it was had backfired spectacularly. How could this even happen? She had mentioned something before…quantum physics? Maybe? He was just a glorified mechanic. Physics…chemistry…those sounded like something the guys in engineering dealt with. He could worry about the science behind it later, though.Footsteps in the hallway outside tore ST-3V3 from his musings. Shit. The officers. He darted to the droid in the corner and ripped off its back panel, tossing it aside. The poor thing was a goner - charred, no power, some melted plating - it wouldn’t mind. Frantically he began ripping pieces out of the droid and shoving them into Gary’s bags. Surely something here survived. Notes. Audio recordings. A holocron. Anything that would tell him what she had been up to. Maybe even how to fix it. As an added bonus, it might get rid of any evidence that the girl had known him. Hux didn’t like him very much to begin with. The last thing he needed was the General thinking he had something to do with this. He sent the mouse droid scurrying back to his quarters, hoping the men outside wouldn’t notice its cargo.Quickly he ran to the door and stood at attention, giving a stiff salute as a group of officers led by General Hux himself approached.“All clear, sir!” ST-3V3 announced. “The explosion was relatively small and contained. Looks like a lab experiment gone wrong. No real damage except for some broken equipment and charred furniture.”Hux raised an eyebrow and glared at the child strapped to the trooper’s chest. “And…you have nothing else to report?”“Oh. And…uh…this. Red hair. Maybe one of yours? I hear there were some clones running around or something?”Smooth, ST-3V3. This interaction is going really well so far.

[aleatoryalarmalligator]

life story part something.

Before I continue, I just wanted to give a quick apology for making an error in my previous life-story post. It was brought to my attention that it was not Britney who brought hip huggers to the scene of the late 90's, but Aaliyah RIP. Also though nobody actually sent me a message regarding this exactly, it may seem like I am picking on Britney Spears, but I really am not. She's fine. Aaliyah pants are fine. I am not an avid modern pop fan so there are a lot of things I really just do not know. I would be far more likely to know about some obscure detail about some early obscure 80's twee group than I would sometimes the most notable musicians of today.

And now. To explain my first trip to Florida.

I had never boarded a plane before. I think flying might be one of my favorite things in the world. I honestly can think of nothing better than being in the clouds looking down on everything. I don't think there has ever been a situation where I got on a plane and didn't come off that plane a better more complete human being. And to this day, if the pay was better, I was a little less of a daydreamer and more of a direct kind of person who liked facts, buttons and numbers more, and my eyesight was anything close to decent I think I would have gone to flight school, I love flying so much. We stopped at the Denver Airport, which was the biggest place I had ever been. When we got to Tampa, we had to board another plane and while that was happening, I looked out at the ocean – which I had never seen before either, and there was a cyclone out there. It was pretty wild, at least for me. I am sure local Floridians look out at the ocean casually on a daily basis and see these kinds of things. It's like when people vacation to Idaho, they often get excited about jagged rocks on the sides of canyons, and to me they are pointing out the most obvious mundane thing in the whole world.

It was also really different for me because there is a lot of culture and different skin tones that you honestly just don't see in rural Idaho. Everyone here is white, with the exception of Native Americans on occasion. There was not only people of every ethnicity, color and nationality, but the default music that played in stores was often times reggae, whereas here it's always country or Nickelback, and maybe just maybe some bad butt rock from the 80's where I come from. It was kind of eye opening for me to realize that not everywhere was Idaho.

My uncle Bob lived down in Florida. He was very rich. His job was to be one of those super attendants to super attendants for a school district in Fort Lauderdale. He had a swimming pool and a fancy motorcycle and a bunch of cars. I made the mistake of swimming one night, and he turned on the light in the pool. Suddenly, cockroaches began jumping into the swimming pool from every direction. The lizards were pretty cool however.

The air made me sick though. It was thick and murky. Idaho has very dry air that I am used to. Florida's air is like warm sticky water all around you that you can't get out of. And I am allergic to mold spores, so that was a problem. My throat swelled up and my eyes watered the whole time. Also, it was here that I learned that I have some serious issues with the ocean. I cannot be in the presence of the ocean, however fascinated I am by it, or I start to feel like I have the stomach flu, and I start to feel like I am going crazy. My father and I visited the beach. It was strange to me, but ocean beaches that are open to the public are covered with people. Idaho beaches are very easy to be alone and secluded on.

I really was enjoying myself, but then I started feeling this crazed feeling. First it felt like I was moving, and then it felt like the ground beneath me was dropping. I started crying for absolutely no reason. My father tried to ask me what was wrong and I snapped at him aggressively in a way I would never ordinarily do. This wasn't one of my typical sensitive fits I get when someone has hurt my feelings either. I really just lost my mind and had no idea what I was doing. He actually had to physically haul me off the beach as I kicked and cried. The ocean makes me crazy. I don't know why. As we drove off, I suddenly realized what had happened and I apologized. It's not that much different now that I am an adult. I was visiting the Pacific last year, and though I was able to control myself, I started getting shaky and nauseated and feeling like there was no reason to be alive, and this wasn't coming from my typical morose self. There has to be some kind of scientific backing for why this happens. I suppose I could just be that much of a landlover that even looking at the ocean makes me ill.

We went to Disney World. It was a great place if you have a million dollars to spend and are somewhat patient, but you don't want to eat there because everything is a trillion dollars and tastes like it is made out of whatever Mickey Mouse's gloves are made out of. Sadly, this is the only place I have ever heard people in real life with English accents – except maybe when I saw Richard Thompson and I am not sure, but when I saw the Arctic Monkeys, I think Alex Turner said something short once during the set.

This was also a strange visit because I hung out with my aunt Marty. I didn't really understand it back then, but she is a total racist. There are several different forms of racism naturally, and I couldn't for sure say that one was better than the last, but if I were to peg her form of racism, I would just flat out say that she was a hardcore Jim Crow racist. She was actually is just this openly vile little woman who constantly spews hatred in every which direction, but for some reason that I can only conclude leads to his own racist instincts, my uncle Bob thought it was cute for some reason for her to go on this way, and my dad would just laugh and laugh as she would go on and on with her extremely atrocious little rants. It kind of gave me a precursor to understanding the 'appeal' of Donald Trump for a lot of people. He was unabashedly hateful and racist, and people liked it because they felt like he was giving them permission to say this crap. She really seemed to randomly like me, so it confused me then, but I honestly don't think me or my siblings would have agreed to stay in a place with her. I could not sit in a room with her. She's really just that bad.

On our way to Miami we got into a car accident and we never made it there. We were in the middle of this six car pile up. I remember two girls with matching tube tops were running around upset speaking in Spanish desperately in confusion. There was this old lady that had to be taken to the hospital. My father turned his head instinctively in fear I suppose that I was not wearing my seat belt – which fortunately I was, and I have never forgotten it since because if I hadn't I would have gone flying. When he turned like this though, he permanently fucked up his neck. The super fancy old vehicle was totaled.

On our way back home a few days later, there was also some very extreme turbulence that scared me to death. We were flying over the Midwest, and the plane became very jerky. I was alerted that this was perfectly normal, and I continued to drink my ginger ale and look out the window. But it started to get more extreme. Pretty soon the entire plane was shaking and free falling. My plate of food flew off the table and women and children were crying upset. I was crying. Somehow, everything was alright, though that much turbulence was not considered to be very common. We flew out of the storm, which I heard was spread out from Indiana to North Dakota.

After Florida, life just kind of went the way it always had. Vacations don't generally fix all that much, from my experience, though I am still very glad I got to leave. I think it's very important to always have a trip planned out in the next six months. It keeps you ever hopeful for the future, and it gives you these little breaks in the monotony of what you know.

One day, I decided to play sick and skip school, presumably to get some hours in on the gameboy, get a few hours extra of sleep, eat some candy, read some chapter book about knights, princesses and dragons all that good stuff. I told my father I felt achy and nauseated. I can't say I feel too badly, but my father has always had a lot of faith that I am always telling the truth. And often times, he has good reason to believe I am, I usually am honest to a fault, am prone to oversharing and I don't just lie every time I am in a bind. I will often times rather just turn myself in. I don't believe people should lie whenever it is convenient. But this isn't to say that I don't lie. Sometimes I lie for sport. Mostly I just like to see what I can get away with. I hand select when I am dishonest, and it has to meet various requirements and the lie itself has to be somewhat satisfying. I don't think it's satisfying to lie often to make people think you are cool or to always get your way, but I have always liked to play hooky. I lied A LOT about being sick growing up, and even though most of the time it was bullshit and everyone knew that, my good old dad always believed in me. I also was always buying snacks at the local grocery store on the charge account and he never looked at the purchases that were made. He always just dutifully paid off the account every so often. To be fair here, he didn't leave any food in the house, and what would you expect a hungry preteen to do if they had a charge account at their disposal?

I was sitting in the corner on this such day, and suddenly my whole body was in the most excruciating pain I have ever felt in my entire life. My lungs stopped functioning. I felt like I was breathing rocks. My head was on fire, my jaws wouldn't move. Pain was shooting down to my toes. My muscles stopped working. I tried to tell my dad what was wrong, but no words would come out. I began convulsing. I could not even scream. I was on the floor in agony. I couldn't even move my arms voluntarily. The joints had tensed up so much. I made some kind of guttural noise of some kind and had tears running down my face, and my father was trying very hard to get me to tell him what was wrong. The pain was absolutely unimaginable, and I have to this day nothing that compares to it. He picked me up off the floor, and hauled me up the stairs. I passed out from the pain, and he put me in my bed. When I woke up two hours later, I was perfectly fine somehow. My muscles worked. I could talk. I have no idea what happened. And I never found out.

My mother moved into a new home. I think she got the lump some of the divorce money at this point, and her and Germaine were starting to have disagreements. So she began renting this brand new little white house a few blocks from where Germaine lived. I had to get rid of Crom – we gave him to James's rich family. This brand new house quickly became totally disgusting and trashed. But it was here where I first got to really enjoy cable television. My dad didn't think that tv was good for kids – he's probably got a point there. It was otherwise a completely disgusting mess though, and I often had to fight and manipulate for the best places to sleep and my rights to the controller. I think after a few years of dealing with adult's bullshit, I was starting to finally figure out how to plan ahead to put myself out of harm's way and to best benefit from my situation, if even in small little ways.

My dad would always take me to my mom's very early in the morning. He had to be at work at five am, and so we had to be on the road by 4 am. He would drop me off, and the first thing I would do when I opened the door was assess just how wasted everyone had gotten while I was at my dad's. You could tell by how the place smelled, what kind of trash was in the garbage, how long the dishes had been out, along with more obvious details like what and who was sprawled over the floor. I would make a headcount of people sprawled out on the floor, and try to establish the most pleasant place for me to rest. I would find the controller. Then I would go through my mother's bedroom while she was drunk and passed out with James in the bed, and go through her pants and coats for loose change. Often times, it would be dumped all over the floor carelessly. I would also go into the bathrooms and do the same thing. If there was anyone else there I would go through their things as well, usually finding their little baggies of drugs and pipes to get to the money. I never would take anything more than a dollar bill, but the money quickly began stacking up.

I eventually had 60 dollars, and to put that into adult perspective, that's like a 1000 dollars in Renee money today. At the end of the year, I went to an arcade and I went to the circus, and completely wasted all of it – but I didn't regret it one bit. The entire experience was perfectly delightful. I took great pleasure in being able to spend carelessly. My father kept such a tight hold of his money – I one time asked him for 25 cents and he told me the family simply couldn't afford it. This coming from someone who made over 40,000 dollars a year. I wore handmedowns, and ate left overs from the worst fast food in town. I was always on the receiving end of duties and responsibilities for my younger siblings, I had no power over my life at all. The money felt even better since I had stolen it the way I had.

Everyone around me was quite unpleasant for that entire time I stayed there. It was just a gross mess, before we finally moved again. Other than watching enormous amounts of television, I remember I would spend all day waiting for the sounds of the ice cream man to come down the road. It was the point of my existence at one point in my life to lazily lay about and anticipate the sound of ice cream man music to go down my street so I could run out there and buy a plastic tasting fudgsicle.        

to be continued.

If per chance you want to know more about this project of mine, i am writing my life story down - i have never actually done this. Here are the previous parts i have written so far.

PART 7 - http://tinyurl.com/ybvo283g

PART 6 - http://tinyurl.com/kbc9dwu

PART 5 - http://tinyurl.com/msnz4am

PART 4 - http://tinyurl.com/k9x8esg

PART 3 - http://tinyurl.com/mwp9atx

PART 2 - http://tinyurl.com/lbt6xq2

PART 1 - http://tinyurl.com/l8xbvg8