#i could really use some nice supportive adult supervision

[rainbowgod666]

Me after ur tags

are you autistic and gay?

lesbian and autistic perhaps?

an autistic pan or bisexual?

asexual and autistic?

trans or non binary and autistic?

any autistic member of the LGBTQ+ community?

well guess what...

you're fucken great and I love you

[rainesol]

Naga culture and customs for oc worldbuilding!

Decided to compile some things for any past or future Ksho fics!! Not all of these are identical to snake behaviour 🫵 don’t freak your pets out/j

Long post!!

Ksho typically stands between 6’5 and 7’. He adjusts his height depending on who he’s talking to. However, he always adjusts himself to be taller than whoever he’s looking at. This isn’t out of intimidation! Naga have poor eyesight, and it’s an old tradition to stand above who you’re talking to to cast a shadow on their face and see it better! Disrespect would be shown through standing above someone but not tilting the head down, and instead looking down their nose or tilting the head up and glaring down. You can have casual conversation laying or sitting though.

Naga houses are well decorated on the outside! The walls are adorned with colourful feathers, plants and murals. Once again, poor vision. If the buildings blend in with the trees, people walk into them.

Kissing isn’t often done. Especially on the head. Think about what a mouth on the head would mean to a snake. Very rude. A forehead bump is an affectionate alternative. Kisses, though rare, are normally planted on the shoulder.

Dancing is common! In the original Jungle Book novel, Kaa hypnotises prey through dance, not his eyes. It’s a reference to that.

The transition from infant->toddler->child is quicker in Nagas. It’s common to see little kids out alone with no adult supervision. They’re fine 👍

Surprisingly touchy! It’s commented on that Ksho is surprisingly comfortable resting against his parents could for someone of ‘his age’.

Another greeting- tongue flicking. It might feel weird if you’re not part snake, but it’s just so they can commit your scent to memory. It can range from something you do without thinking for someone you just met, to something vastly more intimate between friends, family or partners. Depends on how up close and personal you’re getting. Tongue in general vicinity/face: hey dude nice to meet you. Tongue out while cuddling, in neck or right up against skin: this dude likes you and wants to be able to pick you out in a crowd.

Aggression is similar to that of snakes. A huff (similar to a hiss, but smaller and quieter. A little squeaky puff of air): annoyance, could also be curiosity, could also be panic. A hiss (huge exhale. Lot of air coming out of a small hole. Spooky noise): actually anger, back off before you get bit. Tail wags: aggression again. Back off.

Zero waste community. Similar to the Na’vi in Avatar, every part of an animal gets put to use. The leader of Ksho’s village wears false wyvern wing ear cuffs, and Ksho has a bracelet made of crocodile teeth.

Very gender neutral. In an ask, I refer to some Naga kids by ‘they’ only. This is the complete standard for them. (Their language is also gender neutral, but still) Post hatching, you can’t really tell what sex a baby is. So all names in Serpentine are gender neutral!

Clothing is seen more as an accessory than something to cover you. They’re reptiles. Nothing on that torso to cover or support.

Body standards are different. Everyone has stretch marks. Everyone has fluctuating hip size. Also, python specific, but big=tough. In the book, Kaa takes any comments on his weight as a compliment. (At the end of book three, Ksho doesn’t actually get what’s embarrassing about the photo. Loads of people look like that.)

Shedding. Very personal. A vulnerable time. Very close people may allow each other to assist in removing shed skin from the scalp. Assisting in shedding is a close and intimate act. Ksho is pre-shed when first properly introduced and comes across as shy and sensitive.

Post shedding? Dude I look awesome. Common to compliment each other post-shed.

Sleeping. When you’re tired, you sleep. Even if you had work to do. Ksho had quite the culture shock because of this. Wdym it’s lazy to sleep first and do homework later? Surely my work will be better when I’m well rested?

Eating cycles. Be respectful of these. Just after eating=sleepy. Go away. Also very vulnerable. If you’re close, you may be allowed to hang out post-meal, though.

Don’t be shocked by the views on minor injuries. Broken ribs are as common as broken toes.

A lot of the body is not to be touched. Stomach? We’re not friends. Head? Don’t threaten me. Tail? That’s very not allowed. Consent is key. Don’t get yourself crushed in self defence.

Fight or flight is STRONG. No sneaking up on people.

Waving is best when making it very obvious. I can see best when you’re moving. Another thing to catch attention is vibrations. Hit the ground then beckon.

Serpentine sign language is a combination of tactile sign language and visual. The visual signs are wider and more obvious.

Common to bathe in groups. There’s a lot of you to wash and dry. Ksho doesn’t visit Pomefiore because he has to wipe his whole body before entering.

Kids are taught early to watch their strength.

Infant-> hatchling. Toddler/child-> snakelet.

I may rb with a part two should more ideas strike!!!

[cobra-creampuff]

Any favorite headcanons about Roy, Jamie or Keeley you want to share?

I have an unpopular one that's hill I'll die on about Jamie, which is that as far as quantity goes the majority of his abuse happened to him as an adult! I think James really super was not around much when Jamie was a young kid. He'd drop in basically just often enough for Jamie to know who he fucking was, but Jamie never really stayed with him much so there wasn't much opportunity for James to behave too badly toward him when they usually had supervision and a limited amount of time together. Then they had maybe a few months of Jamie being vaguely co-parented in that period when James was trying to get back with Georgie, and then Amsterdam, and I do headcanon that Jamie told Georgie what happened and then she obviously didn't let James see him anymore after that. Maybe he still found a way to show up to matches, or maybe they were allowed to talk on the phone or something, but not much more than that.

It was only when Jamie was grown up enough that it was no longer any part Georgie's decision who he could spend time with that they really had any significant relationship (at which point Jamie became a little bit estranged from Georgie instead, basically switching which parent he effectively had a relationship with). Not to say James wasn't abusive before, but he just plain did not have enough access to Jamie to be beating him.

Like in my head the timeline goes: 0-4, James is a perfect angel to Jamie most of the time but is abusing Georgie, smacks Jamie once, gets kicked out; 5-idk 8 or so, no significant contact; 8-13, James shows up every few months or so, with gradually increasing frequency until he's regularly at Jamie's football matches; 14, "super-dad" attempt, has Jamie for weekends, Amsterdam, told to fuck off again; 15-18 over the phone contact only, again starting out sparse and gradually becoming more and more frequent, there's strain in Jamie and Georgie's relationship for various reasons, Jamie's continued contact with James among them, and I'm feeling this is also when I feel like I wanna put Simon; 19-22, James has full access to Jamie and makes use of it; 23, Jamie's at Richmond, primarily phone contact only again; 24, back at City, full access until LCA, then Wembley; 25, no contact until Jamie reaches out again; 26, something happens to make Jamie change his mind, whether that's James falling off the wagon or losing his temper or both; 27, James persists trying to have a relationship with Jamie despite Jamie pulling back, I like to think he could eventually stay sober and improve himself and all, but in the case of this particular relationship it just doesn't matter; and then 28 on James backs off and lets Jamie reach out to him by phone whenever Jamie feels like it, and that's the extent of their relationship for the rest of their lives, Jamie calls when he's feeling some type of way, misplaced guilt or equally misplaced nostalgia or that weird sense of almost pity I guess that you can get for someone who hurt you very badly but you can't help but still care about.

Roy, whether a friend or a partner, would never like the fact there's still any contact, but he'd of course support Jamie's choice. He would have to not be around any time Jamie's on the phone with James though. Keeley too. They're both honestly still shocked by this even years on, but sometimes Jamie - yes, that Jamie - is just too nice. (But only sometimes lmao.)

[phoenixyfriend]

Commander Buir

Follow-up to this post. Not in any particular order, just spitballing ideas, with contributions from several friends on discord.

Like presumably it takes long enough for them all to meet up again that Anakin and Cody do, in fact, end up treating each other like family, just so I can have that good good "well, guess I'm Dad now" energy. Shmi isn't entirely sure what's going on but she's not a slave anymore and her kid seems to like this rando mando, so.

Anakin gets to have a mom and two dads, though one of the dads is arguably younger than him.

Also when they all meet up again and Cody explains the "General Skywalker got shrunk" thing, there are three reactions: (General) Obi-Wan: Oh, Anakin. Obi-Wan: [gestures to take him, ends up with an armful of clingy padatoddler] Anakin: You can't blame this on me, Obi. Obi-Wan, a little teary, because babies cause emotions: Of course I can, you absurd human being. ------ Rex: That's... my general. Anakin: I am, Captain. Rex: Cool cool cool I'm gonna go stand where I can't, uh, break you. Anakin: I'm not THAT fragile! ------ Ahsoka: [gasp] Skyguy is SKYKID! Anakin: Padawan, this is-- Ahsoka, grabbing him and cuddling: Oh my goodness you're adorable this is the best day ever. Anakin: This is humiliating, Snips, put me down. Ahsoka: Never.

Anakin hates being a toddler because of the lack of independence but Cody keeps picking him up when he's cranky and just holding him until he falls asleep and that's... nice.......

- The brain limitations aren't quite as bad as the situation with Sokanth and Ylliben in the other AU, but - Even if his brain is mostly adjusted he’s still got a tiny body with different needs that he’s not used to. Like, he needs to sleep more but he’s got more energy than usual when he’s awake and it’s all weird.

Cody carrying around toddler Anakin like "God you give me ulcers but you're adorable, you little shit."

Inconveniently tiny body aside, Anakin has a pretty great time in this au. His family are all together and safe and within reach. His wife isn't around, but toddler brain means he doesn't have the Romance Drive, so that's not as bad as it could be It could be significantly worse.

@atagotiak asked: Does Anakin get annoyed about being called cute? - To which I say, He bites the first few times but Shmi tells him that's Naughty so he stops. - Babies are cute so you packbond with them before they’re annoying, Anakin is cute as a self defense mechanism - He’s extra annoying so he needs to be extra cute

You know how you need to keep an eye on toddlers so they don't, like, fall down the stairs or put something toxic in their mouth? - They need to keep an eye on Anakin specifically so he doesn't rewire the ship they're in while they're in hyperspace. - He has less self control on account of being smol. He still has all the mechanical knowledge! Just less comprehension of y’know, consequences.

Anakin, with a sippy cup: This is demeaning. Ahsoka: Your hands don't work great enough to avoid accidents yet. Anakin: It's still embarrassing.

General Kenobi can't just kill Maul, not when Maul is baby right now (sixteen, which is baby enough) so he just. Kinda. Kidnaps a baby Sith. (It's fine. He's fine.)

General Kenobi (not to be confused with Padawan Kenobi) decides to declare Maul his new padawan because someone has to deal with this teenager, and Plo already claimed the rest of Ahsoka's training. And Anakin's three, so.

"What do we do with Maul?" "Eh, I can handle him. I dealt with teenage Anakin getting arrested for illegal pod-racing twice a month, I can work with this."

Maul bites, but only slightly more often than Anakin, it's fine

Ahsoka definitely bullies Maul whenever possible

Consider: Rex holding very still because Anakin wanted to be tall, so he climbed Rex. Being unexpectedly climbed is better than being unexpectedly yeeted. It's still extremely nerve-wracking. - Cody is perfectly capable of running around with a backpacking toddler General, but Rex freezes like a statue. - Ahsoka finds this hilarious

You know how little kids like to be thrown around and swung in circles and stuff like that? This must get even more ridiculous with force users. Can throw a child real high and catch them safely. - Rex panics whenever Ahsoka throws her chibified Master

Literally everyone except Rex loves being yeeted. Even Maul can appreciate a good tactical yeet no shut up he's not having fun this is TRAINING - Rex is Suffering - Cody, a very Tired Dad, deserves to mock his vod'ika a little, as stress relief - Rex, a certified Little Brother, shoves Cody off something tall. Jokes on him, Cody thinks freefall is fun too.

Tia asked: So the people who didn’t exist yet got flung bodily back in time and Anakin did the mental time travel. Why did Obi-Wan not become Padawan Kenobi? (I mean “because I want it that way” is def a good enough answer I’m just wondering if there’s any reason.) - Which, well, it really was mostly "I want to" but here's two options, both of which come down to Blame Daughter and Father. 1. They figured a responsible adult Jedi Master was needed to convince people. 2. Nobody was supposed to get de-aged but Daughter figured they needed to make Anakin less liable to kill things for a few years. - Also IDK the Force God-Manifestations also took away any risk of rapid aging and early death from the clones because uhhhhhhhhhhh I said so

Rex and Ahsoka are fumbling their way through a relationship where ages are just really confusing and awkward, so they're keeping it to just kisses and cuddles for a bit.

Cody is so tired he doesn't even realize anyone's hitting on him until it's been three years of co-parenting with Shmi and his General. - Somehow Anakin knows Cody is in a relationship before Cody does. Cody has never been so embarrassed. - How did he manage to be less observant than Skywalker? -- it was sabotage; all his brain cells were taken up in managing said Skywalker -- Because Skywalker was up at three in the morning whacking a training droid with a stick so he didn't have the energy for Relationships

Also Shmi's come-ons are super subtle, while the General's are... well, Cody's gotten very used to ignoring anything ambiguous on that end because fraternization rules, and also because Obi-Wan flirts a lot with everyone. So.

Please imagine Cody and General Kenobi walking around with Anakin tucked into a toddler sling while they do whatever work they've ended up with at the Temple. - Yes, Cody is helping the Jedi figure out the best plan of attack to take down this slave ring because his grasp on tactics is phenomenal and he knows how to deploy people at greatest efficiency, but also he's got a nosy toddler on his hip who keeps offering his own insane-but-competent ideas. - General Kenobi ends up with a Council Seat just on account of, like, being the kind of person he is. As often as not, he's got Anakin tucked into his robes, chewing on the ear of a stuffed tooka or something.

IDK what Shmi's doing but apparently Legends had it that some of the administrative and support positions in the Temple were held by non-Jedi civilians? So probably something like that.

GENERAL KENOBI LECTURING PADAWAN MAUL WHILE ANAKIN'S BALANCED ON HIS HIP AND GLARING AT MAUL FOR STEALING HIS DAD

General Kenobi: Ahsoka's babysitting. Anakin: I'm her master, I don't need babysitting, this is-- General Kenobi: Fine, then you need supervision, so that you don't blow up a training salle again. Anakin: And you think Ahsoka would stop me? General Kenobi, eye twitching: Fine, I'm leaving you with Plo.

Even if he’s mentally an adult Anakin always needs supervision Look at canon! Anakin was left without supervision for like two days and he became a Sith

Quinlan gets distracted by how attractive General Kenobi is and tells Obi-Wan "dude, you're gonna be so hot once you can get rid of the stupid haircut" and Obi-Wan pushes him into the nearest pond.

They end up with this weird "Uncle Jango" situation (uncle to Anakin, via weird brotherhood-ish to Cody) because Rex and Cody are just like "Uhhhhhhhhh yeah okay" about him eventually, and Jango just like. Drops by. Trying to Earn Affection Of Blood Kin by bringing weird gifts for them and their (ugh) Jedi.

"Okay, Rex'ika, I stopped by Shili--" "What?" "--and apparently this is a delicacy there, so just... your girlfriend will like it." "She's not my girlfriend." "..." "Okay, I can't call her my girlfriend. Jedi have rules about that sort of thing, and--" "This will make your Jedi happy, probably. Just take it, kid."

Baby Anakin got his arm back but for some inexplicable reason still has The Eye Scar. He matches Buir.

[marvelmaniac715]

This is a scene from a Chucky au that I’m calling ‘The One Where That Weird Version of Flashback Chucky From Curse Very Much Exists and Lies Dormant Until Chucky Meets Glen.’ Or for short ‘If Chucky Was A Good (If Overprotective) Father’.

————————————————————

…He had a son. He, the infamous Lakeshore Strangler turned killer doll had a son. He didn’t even have to kill a man and kidnap a pregnant woman and her daughter. He had a biological child. And oh god, he looked so much like the Good Guy doll he was now trapped in, but with the slight mutations that would probably occur if two dolls had a child. He even had the red hair and blue eyes. 

His child (who he’d immediately renamed Glen, after his great grandfather) was currently explaining how he’d come all the way to America from England. Chucky was mildly horrified that his (roughly six year old) son had traveled all on his own with no adult supervision, but he kept quiet about that because he seemed so proud about his first major independent act.

In truth, he wasn’t really listening to what the younger doll was saying. He was mostly still in shock that he had a child, and spent that time marvelling at the son he’d never known he had. But one sentence that Glen had spoken, almost as if it was inconsequential, caught both parents off guard.

“It was quite difficult to find a good opportunity, but one day he left the cage open by accident when-‘

A cage? A cage? Chucky knew that there had to be some reason why he hadn’t known about Glen’s existence for years, but he’d never even imagined that reason would be a damn cage. He couldn’t stop himself. He had to ask. 

‘Glen, what do you mean the cage? When were you kept in a cage?”

He was so concerned. There were so many potential reasons why a possessed doll could be kept in a cage, he shuddered to think what could have happened to his son in only six years. But Glen himself seemed completely unfazed.

“Oh, a ventriloquist called Psychs used me in his act. I tried to run away a few times when I was little, so I was kept in a cage. Don’t worry, it was quite nice really… once a month I got food, one time I even got a whole slice of bread! And- and, there was a nice television for me to watch every day. That’s how I knew where to find you.”

Then Glen smiled. Chucky blinked in surprise for a few moments. Then that surprise morphed into confusion, before melting into a blinding rage. Oh, hell no. His only son, his child, was kept prisoner as a little puppet for years. Since he was a baby. He could have had years with his son that he’ll never get back now just because some selfish asshole wanted to make some money. 

That rage only increased when he managed to find footage of this ‘Psychs’ character using his son as a prop. With every cruel jab at his poor baby’s appearance, with every insinuation that sweet little Glen was violent, Chucky thought up more and more violent ways to end this man. Finding a body could wait. This was more important.

Tiffany was horrified at what she saw, but she wasn’t driven into a murderous rage like Chucky was. He was a little disappointed in her, at her lack of support for their son. Oh well, this would have to be an endeavour he undertook alone. Fixing a fake smile to his face, he turned to Glen and asked.

“Hey Glen, how do you feel about taking a little road trip? Just you and me?”

———————————————————

A few days later, Chucky and his son had arrived in England. Chucky had never liked England, no real reason why, but British people just made his skin crawl. So it was agony to spend time amongst them. But his son had a British accent, so he’d have to get used to it eventually.

It took a few hours to find the small rusted trailer that Glen had been imprisoned inside for six years. The monster that had held his son captive was sitting outside it in a folding deck chair, drinking a beer and wallowing in self pity. For all that he abused Glen, he was nothing without him. Such a sad, pathetic little man. Chucky couldn’t wait to destroy him.

He turned to his son, who was happily slurping on his ice cream (Chucky had found a beach, and he would be a terrible father if he didn’t treat his child to his first ever beach day, this was his third ice cream because he’d loved his first one so much, Chucky would do anything to make sure that he was always that happy) and quickly came up with a way to get him away from the scene of the upcoming murder.

“Glen, could you do something really important for me? I like to keep track of how many cars are driving past at every new place I visit. I’ve managed to keep track of most colours, but there’s one colour that I’ve seen so much of I can’t keep track of it anymore. Could you please go sit around the back of this trailer and count how many blue cars you spot? Come find me in an hour, and if you can tell me how many blue cars you saw I’ll get you another ice cream.”

It was a load of bullshit, he couldn’t give a crap about cars, but it was a way to keep him busy. Plus, Glen was… sensitive, he wouldn’t be able to cope. So this preserved both his innocence and his positive impression of his father. With a smile and a nod, Glen happily skipped around to the back of the trailer.

“Alright Dad!”

Chucky’s dark, twisted heart flooded with a strange warmth upon being called that, which evaporated as soon as he looked back at the reason he missed out on six years of his son’s life.

———————————————————

The kill must have been good, but Chucky had been so enraged by the situation that all he remembered about his attack was that his vision was overtaken by a blinding white rage, and then he was standing looking up at a corpse. It really was a beautiful display. The ventriloquist had been strung up in the cage that Glen had been trapped in, strung up like a macabre puppet, right outside his trailer. A spectacle for all to see, just like his son had been.

Chucky grinned in satisfaction as he went to join his son. He knew that he had done a good job, his son had been avenged. He found Glen in the exact spot he’d been told to go to. Such a good boy, Chucky still found something darkly comedic about the fact that two psychotic serial killers had created such a sweet, innocent little boy. 

“Hi Dad! I’ve been counting all of the blue cars, and so far I’ve seen 32 blue cars and 12 cars that I thought were blue, but looking back I’m fairly certain were just grey and black cars that looked blue in the light.”

As Glen rambled excitedly about his progress in the task he’d been set, Chucky smiled. It was seldom that such a bright, innocent spark of light made it’s way into Charles Lee Ray’s messed up world. He vowed to protect that light with all he had.

[paisley-print]

Near The Water’s Edge:   Chapter Four

After fleeing your abusive husband, you find yourself in the small coastal town of July, North Carolina. Soon you meet Frankie Morales, Air Force Veteran and single dad. As the two of you grow closer, you begin to let go of your past and learn to love again. That is until a strange man shows up in town, and you ’re forced to choose between your safety or the safety of the people that you love.

Inspired by the novel “Safe Haven” written by Nicolas Sparks.

Series Master List

Frankie Morales x Female Reader Rating: 18+ / Heavy adult themes eventual smut. Trigger Warnings: Domestic Abuse, Mentions of death, PTSD, anxiety, mentions of police case, police.  Word Count: 

Note: Another heavy chapter, but things will let lighter as the chapters go on. Enjoy the first half of the beach day. 

Tag List:@qytyy @winter-fox-queen​​​​ @sherala007​​​​@inkededucatednnerdy @quica-quica-quica​​​ @hnt-escape​​​ @giizhkens-cedar​​​@heythere-mel​​​ @toomanystoriessolittletime​​

The ride passed in comfortable silence, the three of you listening to the radio and Lucy looking out the window at the cars in the next lane. All Frankie could think about was how nice it was to have someone else there to spend the day. He knew Lucy must have been feeling the same way, since he hadn’t seen her so excited about a beach trip in a long while. 

He appreciated how patient you were with her; it was something he noticed even on that first day. The way you refused help until you knew she was alright. That moment had stuck with him more than anything else. 

The memory of what Will said earlier surfaced in his mind. He shifted in his seat and glanced at you. Yes, you were beautiful. Strikingly so. A woman who could walk into a room and turn every head in the place; both men and women alike. Of course Frankie had been taken with you. He tried to suppress it, scolding himself whenever he was alone in bed at night and found his thoughts wandering.... 

His only goal right now was to be your friend because he cared for you and knew that you needed help. He wasn’t sure what kind of help, but he sensed that you were alone and at some point in your life something very bad had happened to you. He wouldn’t pry though, he would wait until you were ready to share. 

-

The beach wasn’t too packed; it was still early in the season and  the tourists hadn’t moved into their summer homes yet. The boys had done an oddly efficient job at setting everything up. When Ben and Will got into a little spat about how to sink the umbrella into the sand , Frankie simply rolled his eyes and continued to spray Lucy with sunblock. It made you laugh, they all seemed so comfortable with one another. 

The day was hot and everybody seemed eager to get into the water, everyone except you and Frankie.  You had bought a bathing suit at the store, intending on going in... but somewhere during the car ride you changed your mind. 

“You can go in if you want,” you told Frankie “I don’t mind just watching.”

He shrugged, “I don’t normally go in either.”

Then just like that the two of you were suddenly alone, both woefully unprepared for any sort of conversation.

You thought of something quickly, filling the silence “the marina was packed today.”

“Yeah, It’s always like that on memorial day. Most of the summer too, be prepared for the restaurant to start getting busy.”

“I prefer it that way. It makes the shifts go faster. So I’ve been meaning to ask, what exactly do you do? I assumed you owned the marina?”

He paused for a moment. “Uh, technically I do. It was a wedding gift from my parents. An uncle had died and left it to them. I think they just wanted to get rid of it, but I have an office manager that does all the upfront stuff….. normally I just work on repairs.”

Married. That wasn’t what you were expecting, but still no ring. “Did you go to school for that?”

“Kind of. I had training for planes, but you would be surprised just how similar the two are.” You gave him a look. He glanced at you and laughed sheepishly. “What?”

“I’m sorry, did you say planes?”

“Yeah”

“You fix planes?”

He smiled and crossed his arms, trying to seem much cooler than he actually was. “I fly them too.”

“You fly pl-....do you take constructive criticism?”

He laughed, “Of course.”

“Lead with that next time.”

He looked at you skeptically. “How am I supposed to lead with that, exactly?”

“You say, hi my name is pilot Frankie …..” 

He shook his head, grinning. “Morales,” he informed you. 

“Hi my name is pilot Frankie Morales, nice to meet you.”

He played along, “but how will I know if people actually like me for me, or they just want me to take them for a ride in a plane?”

You shrugged “it's tough being a celebrity, I don’t make the rules.”

“Oh yeah, celebrity, that’s me,” he said sarcastically. 

You kicked at the sand with your foot. “Also I liked you before I knew you had the coolest hobby in the world. So, you know that you can trust me.”

He glanced over at you and immediately noticed your smile. He had seen you smile before, but they would never quite reach your eyes. This one, he could tell, was real. He opened his mouth to speak when, in the distance, a wave crashed and Lucy squealed with laughter. Both of you turned your heads to look.

“Will Lucy be okay out there?” you asked. She had on a life vest and was being supervised in the shallows by the rest of the adults. Santi was holding onto a boogie board Lucy used to keep herself up. 

“Yeah, I know they seem like idiots but they are good men.” Frankie reached into the cooler to grab a bee and popped the cap off with the bottle opener. “Do you want one?”

You shook your head, “No thank you, but I’ll take a water bottle if you have it.” He set his beer down in his cup holder and reached into the cooler again. The bottle was freezing cold when he handed it to you. Perfect for a sunny day.

You wiped the condensation off on your dress. “Can I ask you something? It’s okay if you don’t want to answer.”

“Yeah, sure,” he said, taking a sip of beer. 

“Lucy’s mom is she….? Are you two still….? I don’t mean to pry, I guess I’m just a little confused.”

“You and I both,” he said with a sigh. “I’m married but we are not together anymore, haven’t been for a few years.”

“Oh,” you said simply, not finding any clarification in what he told you. If anything, you had more questions, but you didn’t want to push. Besides, it didn’t matter anyway…. you couldn’t, you were married as well. “Does your family live in the area?”

“Nope, they live up north. Katie never really knew her family. She grew up in the foster system and was bounced around until she enlisted at eighteen. It’s just me and Lulu now, and the guys when they find the time to travel here.”

“I’m sorry,” you said honestly. “It must be hard not having your parents support.”

He shook his head and took another sip. “I expected it, even when I was younger, it seemed as though they were only interested in keeping me alive.” He looked down and started to peel off the sticker on the bottle as he spoke. “They are both doctors, mom is an archaeologist and dad an engineer. He actually helped design parts of the international space station…. I think they valued their careers more than anything else... they still do. The only time they ever came down to see Lucy was right after she was born, aside from that it’s usually a phone call on a holiday and a card with money in the mail.”

Although he tried to play it off as if it were just another part of life, you could see that it still affected him deeply. For a moment you thought about reaching out to take his hand, but you stopped yourself. “It really is their loss, they are missing out on two wonderful people.”

Frankie adjusted the baseball cap on his head, a sheepish little smile playing on his lips at the compliment. “Well, thank you. Lucy and I could say the same thing about you. You’re great with her.”

You glanced back at the little girl. She was smiling happily as Ben pulled her along on the boogie board. “I think little girls need to be protected, but not only that - they need to be seen and heard. She is already so independent and fierce. I can see how you encourage her to be her own person and not fit into any one mold. That’s important for little girls to learn.”

He laughed, “Yeah, she definitely gives me a run for my money, that's for sure. She can already repair an engine better than most men I know.”

A large gust of wind came through and took hold of the multi-colored beach ball beside you. Both you and Frankie sprang from your seats to race after it. The thing was fast, and you could not stop it from crashing into the waves. You noticed just how much cooler it was near the water’s edge. Although the temperature outside was sweltering, the Atlantic still held that winter chill. Both of you stared at the ball as it bobbed up and down with the tide. 

Frankie waved it away with his hand and squinted in the sunlight. “It’s fine, it’ll probably just float down the beach to another family or something.”

You smirked at him “or choke a poor dimwitted sea turtle to death.”

He paused and shot you a pretend glare, then took off his hat, dropped it in the sand and reached for his shirt. 

You giggled “no, no I’m joking. I got it.” You said, starting to strip down to your bathing suit also.

“Well, you gotta be faster than that,” he said, half jogging to the water.

You slipped off your dress easily and ran straight past him into the waves. Frankie was not far behind. You two were pushing against the tide as you reached for the ball. Fingertips just barely brushed against the plastic before it slipped a couple more inches away. This left just enough time for Frankie to swoop in and grab it.

Your stomach hurt from laughing so hard “hey!”

He shrugged, “I’m sorry that I care more about the environment than you.”

You splashed him with water playfully.

-

The two of you swam for another fifteen minutes, chatting about the town and volleying the ball back and forth. Frankie pretended not to see the way the droplets of water clung to your skin and sparkled under the sunlight. When he noticed the little lace pattern on the bottom of your swimsuit, he knew he had been staring for too long and forced himself to look away. The very last thing he wanted to do was scare you away, or make you believe he had some sort of ulterior motives to helping you. 

You both dressed again before walking back up to the chairs. When the two of you returned, the group had already come back from swimming. They were passing around Tupperware full of fruit while Santi was starting up the tiny little grill he had brought. 

“You guys really don’t play around for beach days,” you mentioned to Frankie. 

“I tried to warn you,” he said with a smirk. 

Will had Lucy thrown over his shoulder, carrying her easily with one arm. “Has anyone seen Fry?”

“I’m right here!” Lucy’s little voice drifted out from behind him.

Will started turning, pretending to look for her “Fry! Fry! Where are you!”

Lucy was hardly able to speak through her fit of giggles, “I’m behind you!”

He put her down on the sand, pretending as if he had seen her for the first time. “Jesus Fry! You scared me!”

“Lulu,” Frankie said, “come here so I can put more sunscreen on you.” Frankie took the bottle from the bag and sprayed her again, making sure to get her ears and the tops of her feet as well. He sprayed some in his hands, and Lucy scrunched up her nose as he applied it to her face.

Watching the two of them together made you smile. You were reminded again just how different Frankie was from your husband. David would have felt emasculated by having to take care of a child. If he had attended today, you would be sitting beside him silently the entire time, only getting up to fetch him a beer.

“Do you want some?” Frankie asked, and you were suddenly snapped right back to reality.  

Even though you weren’t threatened by a burn yet, you figured it would be a good idea. “Yeah, thank you.” You offered him your arms, then the front of your legs.

“I used to be terrible with remembering sunblock until I got sun poisoning in Iraq, god never again.”

“Iraq?” you asked, and turned so he could get the backs of your legs.

“Yeah, with the air force” he told you, assuming you already knew. 

Breath hitched in your throat as he brushed your hair over your shoulder. You cringed at the feeling of the warm sunscreen hitting the back of your neck and jerked away. It was enough for the others to notice. You laughed and lied quickly “damn horse flies hurt when they bite. They say you should wash off the bite with soap to get it to stop the swelling. Is there a bathroom here?”

You sounded believable. Becoming an expert liar had been the only thing keeping you alive for so long. 

Frankie felt horrible. He didn’t quite know what he had done to trigger you, but he knew it was something. “It’s pretty far, I can walk with you-”

You shook your head, a wide smile still plastered across your lips. “Nope, I just need a direction.”

Santi jumped in quickly. “That building when we first came in, near the tennis courts.”

You nodded and started forward, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes. Why was this happening right now? You were fine a moment ago and now you felt as though you couldn’t catch your breath. You shivered, remembering the feeling again and putting your hand on the back of your neck to stop it.

A soldier…. it made sense. You were too stupid to have seen it, the nicknames and the holiday...... 

Thankfully, they were single stall restrooms; you pulled the door shut and locked it behind you. The bottom of the floor was disgusting and filled with wet sand. You lifted yourself up onto the counter and sat, trying to calm down. A soldier, a soldier, you kept repeating to yourself. It was too similar. The anger, the potential for violence…. just like your husband. 

You placed your head in your hands, and suddenly you were back in New Jersey. It was a bitter February, snow still on the ground. You were in your bathroom hiding as David raged in the living room and screamed at his coworker on the phone. A little boy had been killed by his father weeks ago. David was assigned to the case. When the trial came, the jury found the man innocent and let him walk free, even though all the evidence pointed to him as the killer. It was an embarrassment to David and the entire homicide unit

“God fucking dammit, y/n! y/n!”

You pulled yourself up on shaking legs, straightened your dress and walked out. David was red in the face waiting for you. “I thought I told you to call Comcast, did I not?”

“They said that they could get someone out here Wednesday because of the snow-”

He took the television remote and threw it at you as hard as he could; he aimed for your face but it hit your shoulder instead. The plastic connected straight with your collarbone. You doubled over in pain, holding it as it throbbed. He stalked up to you and you moved back, the fear evident in your eyes.

His voice was teetering on the edge of lunacy as he screamed at you.

“I give you a simple fucking job to do and you can’t even get it done. You’re a lazy fat fucking bitch.” he shoved you hard but you manged to keep standing. “Spend all day sitting on your fucking ass while I have to go to work for the both of us! I need the television because I need to see the news coverage of the fucking case! You knew this! Or would you like me to get fired and the both of us live on the fucking streets!” He shoved you again, and you fell against the stone fireplace. Your hands came up to shield your face as he picked up the remote and hit you with it repeatedly. It caught your lip, busting it open. 

You didn’t care about the blood, all you could think about was the gun still holstered in his belt. You got the television fixed the next day-

“Summer?” 

You stood quickly and wiped away the tears from your cheeks, pretending like nothing was wrong. “Yeah?”

“Are you alright?” 

It was Frankie. 

You shook your head and smiled in the dingy plastic mirror in front of you. “Yeah, why?”

He could hear that you had been crying. He pushed on the door but it was locked. 

You didn’t like that at all; you slipped off the counter and sat on the floor, against the door. Bracing it closed with your body “I’m fine-”

“You’re crying-”

“No, I’m not I- I get allergies and that horsefly hurt. I am such a baby I’ve always had a low pain tolerance-”

“If it’s something that I did -”

“Nope, it’s nothing that you did. I’m fine, I’m really, really fine I promise. I just got overwhelmed and needed some air. I’ll be back in a few minutes, and you guys can eat without me. Don’t let me hold you up.”

Frankie wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t want to force anything. “Would you like me to save you a plate?”

“Yes, please.”

You could hear his footsteps start to retreat and relaxed a little. 

“Summer?”

“Yeah?”

Frankie was about to say something, but he thought better of it. He figured it was better to let you have your space now.

[nerdzzone]

Only For A Moment: June

Summary: A series of shorter one shots from Chris and Whitney’s life together throughout the pandemic. Some happy times, some harder times, some fluff and some things a little more sexy - they work through it all as they try to get settled in their new and blossoming relationship.

Chris Evans x OFC

Part of the Once Bitten/More Hearts series

Only For A Moment: May

Note: Thank you to everyone who liked, reblogged or commented on the first part of this little series. It’s been nice to write some fun family time, but please let me know if you enjoy it too! There will be some drama sprinkled in and relationship building conversations eventually, but I thought I’d let them be happy for a bit 😉

______

June 2020

When I first moved to Massachusetts, I'd been very excited about the change in climate. I was ready to get away from the perpetual heat of California and live somewhere with four real seasons and actual snow in the winter. However, as much as I enjoyed those new things, it only made me appreciate summer even more.

I loved lounging in the sun, I loved the bright early mornings with that fresh smell in the air that tells you it's going to be a hot day, I loved how it brought out all the little freckles on Grayson's cheeks and most of all, this year, I loved that we had easy access to a pool.

Swimming had always been my favourite summer activity and it was something that I must have passed on to Grayson because as soon as the weather turned hot, he was constantly pestering us to let him in the water. We were very stern with him about the rules - that he wasn't to go anywhere near the pool without adult supervision - but his patience was clearly wearing thin. Chris had to clean it and get it ready for the season after it had been out of use all winter and every day that Grayson had to wait seemed to physically pain him. It was the first thing he mentioned in the morning and all he wanted to talk about throughout the day until finally, as the temperatures neared the mid 80s and summer had clearly begun, the pool was ready for use.

And it came at just the right time, when we were all needing a little carefree family fun. On top of the normal, seemingly never ending anxiety caused by the pandemic, Scott had left the day before to return to L.A. and get his life back in order. We were excited for him, but there was a hint of sadness in the air as the house felt just a little bit emptier without him.

But that emptiness dissipated instantly when we got outside. Grayson was practically vibrating with excitement and his squeals and shrieks as he splashed in the pool with Chris did a wonderful job of filling any quiet that Scott's departure had caused. He was constantly impressing us with his patience and understanding of the current restrictions on our activities so hearing the glee in his voice was a comforting sound. I couldn’t help but think how a few short years ago rambunctious kids at the pool used to get on my nerves, but now the noise only added to my relaxation.

I was soaking in that relaxation as I laid on a lounger in the sun wearing the only bikini that I'd packed. I thought it was fairly modest as far as bikinis go - very mom friendly - but from the look Chris had given me when I first came out of the house, apparently it was sexier than I thought. I'd watched in amusement as Chris turned to stare, his jaw dropping slightly as I sauntered over to my seat, but there was no time for those kinds of distractions as Grayson protested his dad's lack of attention with a splash in the face. Chris let out an exaggerated shout of surprise, but was quick to retaliate by dunking him completely under the water. The urge to scold Chris was on the tip of my tongue, but Gray was full of heartfelt giggles when he popped back up and a smile slid onto my face as I relaxed back against my chair.

I did fully intended to join them in the pool at some point, but I couldn't resist taking a few moments to watch them play.

Even when Chris and I hadn't been on the best of terms, I had always been grateful for the bond they shared. Grayson had definitely inherited his father's sense of humour - the way they teased and pestered each other was adorable to see - and they both looked at each other with so much pride, constantly thriving off the other's support and approval. Watching as Grayson flourished in his swimming practice with Chris' constant encouragement made my heart ache with happiness and I could have stayed in that moment - sprawled out on my lounger, soaking in their joy - forever without growing tired of it.

It wasn't until they'd been in the pool just over half an hour that there was any trouble. Grayson was a natural in the water - he had no fear of putting his head under, he didn't panic when he couldn't touch the bottom, he was probably a fish in a previous life - and he was excellent at listening to Chris' guidance to keep him out of any dangerous situations. However, he apparently wasn't as eager to follow our rules when he wasn't in the water.

That became apparent when Chris decided to show him how to do a cannonball. Grayson did as instructed and held tightly onto the side while Chris climbed out to demonstrate, but he got distracted when it was his turn to try. Dodger had been whipped into a frenzy by all the shouts and screams so as soon as Grayson was out of the pool, the happy dog went running past him.

"Dodger! Come back!" Grayson grinned, as his eyes lit up with an idea. "Dodger, get in the pool!"

Chris shook his head at Grayson's plan and insisted that it was a bad idea, but was almost entirely ignored as Grayson bolted after the dog.

"Grayson," I shouted over to him, sitting up straight so I could make sure I got his attention. "Don't run around the pool! Your feet are wet and the ground is slippery!"

Again, he completely ignored the opposition to his brilliant idea and he continued his sprint. I let out a huff of frustration and slipped my feet into my flip-flops, ready to chase after him when Chris spoke up.

"Gray!" He shouted, his voice stern and leaving no room for his seriousness to be misunderstood. "Listen to your Ma! You know not to run by the pool!"

Grayson's excitement was clearly clouding his judgment as he still paid no attention. I'd just stood up to go and physically stop him and make sure he understood why he needed to listen to us when he learnt the hard way, slipping and falling backwards.

My heart was in my throat as I jumped in to action, feeling only a hint of relief that he had managed to catch himself with his hands just fast enough to stop his head from smashing on the hard tiles around the pool. His first reaction was one of shock, but it only took a second for the tears to come.

"Shit," I heard Chris mutter as he immediately hoisted himself out of the water before rushing over, hot on my heels. 

I got to him first and pulled him into my arms.

"Oh, buddy, are you okay?" I asked as he buried his face in my neck and cried. "Where does it hurt?"

He sobbed out a quiet 'everywhere', but he was holding his wrist so it was safe to assume that was what bore the brunt of the impact. I rubbed his back as Chris crouched down beside us and took Gray's little hand in his own. He made him move it up and down and make a fist and when he did so without much more than a wince, it seemed like it was probably just a bit bruised.

"I think you'll be okay," Chris announced as Grayson's cries quieted down to a sniffle. "But this is why we reminded you not to run. It's not safe and you could have been really hurt."

"Sorry, Daddy..."

His words were soft as more tears filled his eyes and he crawled off of my lap into Chris' arms. Still crouched down, Chris gave him a big squeeze and assured him that it was fine, but warned him to make sure he listened to us next time.

Once Grayson's sniffles had quieted down almost completely, Chris glanced at me with a twinkle in his eye before leaning in towards Gray.

"Would it cheer you up if..."

His words trailed off and he leaned down to whisper the end of the sentence in Grayson's ear. From the way his eyes lit up at his dad's words and a giggle bubbled up from his chest, I had a feeling that I wasn't going to like whatever he'd suggested.

"Yes, Daddy!" Grayson grinned. "Do it!"

Chris shot me a smirk before sliding Grayson out of his arms and standing up. As soon as he moved behind me, I had a good idea what had just been discussed and my suspicions were all, but confirmed when he effortlessly lifted me up with one arm behind my back and the other under my knees.

"Chris..." I warned him, looking up at him in what I hoped was a menacing way. "Don't you dare throw me in that pool..."

"Why not?" He smirked. "It's such a beautiful day and you haven't even dipped a toe in yet..."

"I'll get in if you want me to, but I don't want to get my hair wet. The chlorine makes it so gross."

Chris rolled his eyes at my excuse and took a step closer to the edge.

"Do it, Daddy!" Grayson cheered. "Do it!"

"Chris..." My plea was more whiny this time. "Please, don't."

"Sorry, honey. The kid needs cheering up."

The grin on his face made it clear that he wasn't sorry at all, but before I could argue the point he tossed me out of his arms. I had just enough time to let out a squeal of protest before I hit the water. It was colder than I expected, but it wasn't entirely unpleasant since it was such a hot day. Still, as I popped back up at the surface and flipped the drenched mess of my hair out of my face, I glared at Chris. He was grinning as Grayson stood next to him, giggling uncontrollably.

"Chris! That was rude!"

My tone was harsh, but there was a smile on my face. It was hard to be annoyed when it had clearly filled Grayson with so much joy and, truthfully, I didn't mind getting wet. I wasn't about to let them know that though as I forced a pout and paddled over to the side of the pool.

"I'm sorry, Winnie," Chris apologized, but with a smirk that made me think he still wasn't being entirely sincere. "Here, let me help you out."

He held out his hand and I hid a smirk of my own. I couldn't believe he was stupid enough to do that, but I accepted his offer and grabbed on. Planting my feet on the side of the pool, I pulled on his arm and sent him flying into the water beside me.

Grayson could barely breathe he was laughing so hard after that and the look of shock on Chris' face when he resurfaced had me unable to hold back giggles of my own.

"I can't believe you fell for that," I teased. "That's the oldest trick in the book."

"Well, I didn't think you'd pull something like that when I was trying to be nice."

"It's called payback."

I shot him a smirk as I went to hoist myself out of the water, but his arms slid around my waist when I was halfway out and dragged me back in. We both ended up under the water this time and when we popped back up, he'd angled us so his back was towards Grayson and he was holding me tightly against his chest. I wrapped my legs around his waist to help me stay afloat and his hands went down to my thighs to support me.

"Well, throwing you in the pool was payback of my own," he informed me, his voice low. "Payback for strutting around in that sexy bikini when I can't do anything about it."

He slid his hands a bit higher, giving my ass a quick squeeze and I leaned down to steal a kiss. I'd be lying if I said that the sight of his very chiselled muscles as he splashed around shirtless hadn't been driving me wild too, but as Grayson called to us from the side of the pool, we were reminded just why the situation was so torturous.

"I wanna turn falling in!"

I pulled myself out of Chris' grasp at the sound of Gray's voice and smiled up at him.

"Jump in!"

"No," he shook his head. "I wanna be pushed too!"

Chris swam past me, chuckling as he went, and pulled himself out of the pool with ease. I was treading water, waiting to swim over and help Gray once he landed in the water as Chris scooped him into his arms. He tickled him, earning more hysterical giggles, and started swinging him over the pool. He didn't let go the first time though and repeated the action as he counted to three before he finally launched Grayson towards me.

Grayson's shriek was almost deafening and he landed in the water with a big splash. He spluttered and coughed as he popped back up, but the giggles quickly came back as I swam over and let him climb onto my back.

"Daddy! Come in!"

Chris smiled and turned around, looking down to make sure his feet were right at the edge of the pool.

"Stay back!"

I listened to his warning and swam a little bit farther away. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure we were in a safe place before swinging his arms and doing a perfect back flip into the water.

"Wow!" Grayson gasped, the awe clear in his voice. "That's cool!"

"Yeah? You liked that?"

Chris looked very proud of himself for impressing the three year old and it was cute to see. He had millions of fans all around the world, but nothing meant more to him than his son's adoration.

"Yeah! I did!" Grayson nodded enthusiastically. "I wanna try!"

"No way, buddy," I told him firmly, shooting Chris a glare as I heard that request and making sure he heard me too. "That's a trick for grown-ups only."

Grayson whined about how unfair I was being, but Chris chuckled and nodded his head.

"Your mom's right, Gray. That trick takes a lot of practice," he warned him as he reached over to pull him from my back. "But we can try something else. Here, stand on my hands."

He moved his hands under the water and put them under Grayson's feet. I watched, feeling a bit nervous about what he was planning, but I trusted that Chris wouldn’t do anything dangerous as they got settled into position.

"Ready?" He asked Grayson, who nodded eagerly despite having no idea what was about to happen. "Okay...One...Two...Three...Go!"

On 'go', Chris pushed his hands up quickly, tossing Grayson through the air. It was much less graceful than Chris' back flip, but that didn't damper Gray's enjoyment. As soon as his head was back above the water, he giggled and squealed for Chris to do it again. I smiled at his enthusiasm as I helped him swim back to Chris.

As we probably could have predicted, Grayson made Chris do it over and over again until we were all wrinkled from the water and baked from the sun. He probably would have made Chris toss him around the pool all night if we let him but, after almost an hour, we ruined his fun and dragged him back inside for a break from the warm weather.

To ease the blow of the pool party being over, we set him up on the couch with a popsicle while we got ourselves changed before joining him. As we all lounged in the living room - soaking in the joy of air conditioning - I was filled with a feeling that was becoming increasingly familiar.

Contentment.

The joy of domesticity was still so fresh for us. All these normal days spent together as a family that some people might find mundane were so special, but as much as I enjoyed them, I couldn't help but feel a hint of regret. I'd spent so long trying to protect Grayson by keeping Chris and I apart that I hadn't realized what he was missing out on and - as Chris pulled me close against his side with Gray tucked under his other arm - I was so grateful that we were finally able to give him the family that he deserved.

-

July

Tags:  @maggotzombie @moonlacebeam @mizzzpink @zaylaugh @flowery-mess @flowerjewels @njrronaldo7 @hockeychick10 @partypoison00 @theladybiers @sidepieces @firoozehmoon @patzammit @sparkledfirecracker @mytbel0st

[robininthelabyrinth]

Prompt - Wen Ruohan insists that Jiang Yanli come to the Wen "lecture" as well...

ao3

Jiang Yanli tended to deal with stress in one of two ways: cooking and taking care of people. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, the Wen indoctrination camp provided many opportunities for both, although not with the people she might have expected.

Wei Wuxian spent most of his days being valiant and light-hearted, trying to give them strength and courage, and Jiang Cheng followed his lead the way he always did, brave and serious and thoughtful and – well. It’s not that she didn’t appreciate both of them, because she did, but it was only that her own anxiety was more easily dealt with when she could distance herself from her current situation and focus entirely on someone else.

She might have tried to take care of Jin Zixuan, but the Jin sect disciples closed ranks around him, glaring at her as if she were the one who broke off their engagement. Either way, she won’t go where she’s not wanted, and so she backed off and went elsewhere to look for someone that needed her.

Luckily for her, Nie Huaisang was very loud and very vocal and very, very needy.

They made for a surprisingly great fit.

Jiang Yanli had perhaps been forced to step into a maternal role a bit too early – Jiang Cheng had always been a soft child, and their father’s dislike of him had hurt him deeply where it had always seemed somewhat unimportant to Jiang Yanli, and Wei Wuxian was of course a big baby masquerading as a man. Her mother had always been disinterested in playing the mother, more fond of training and discipline, and so they’d turned to her when they were young, and still did today. Back at home, they would often descend to bickering and playing for her attention when she was around, knowing how much she liked it: Wei Wuxian demanding to be called A-Xian and fed spoonfuls like a toddler (albeit one capable of eating extremely spicy food), Jiang Cheng too proud to go that far but somehow managing to lose at least ten years of maturity, always looking at her hopefully to affirm that he did well and to sneak him treats behind everyone’s back.

That was the way she liked it, too. Possibly more than she really should, but it made her feel wanted and useful in a way that her weak cultivation never would.

Nie Huaisang, in contrast, had always been babied - by his father, by his over-protective older brother, by his long-suffering sect that nevertheless indulged him in everything. He’d suffered some things (his father’s death, first and foremost) when he was very young, and it sometimes seemed as he’d reacted to that by purposefully staying that age forever: useless and self-indulgent, spoiled and with a tendency to fuss, an unreasonable expectation that he could just turn his big eyes on anyone in his vicinity and they would immediately feel moved to cater to his every need.

Nie Huaisang, in other words, was just her type.

He was calling her ‘Jiang-jiejie’ within a shichen, putting his head on her shoulder a shichen after that, and kicking up such a dramatic fuss about everything that even Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng – who had come over with threats in their eyes about a strange man, even one of their friends, sticking himself so close to her – had ended up encouraging her to see what she could do to calm him down a little.

After they left, she looked down at his pathetic form and said, “You did that on purpose, you little brat.”

Nie Huaisang looked up at her with an impish grin that somehow still suited the tear stains on his face. “That’s true, but Jiang-jiejie won’t tell on me,” he said, as certain as any child. “Besides, this way we get to spend time together – and if we’re together, my guards will protect you as they do me, and your brothers won’t have to worry so much. Aren’t I smart?”

“Such a thoughtful child,” she praised, and he puffed himself up. “But you shouldn’t mislead your big brothers like that, you know. You could have just told them what you were thinking.”

“But where’d the fun in that be?” he said, and put his head on her shoulder again. “Jiang-jiejie will take care of me while I’m here.”

“Of course,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t punish you if you’re naughty, either.”

She did, too. She made him food out of the terrible provisions they received, she brushed his hair and let him teach her how to do his braids, she tucked him in at night before heading back to her tent, and even sat with him and helped him with his memorization and his chores – and when it was called for, she smacked him lightly on the backs of his hands that he held out to her for the specific purpose, scolded him and made him apologize.

She didn’t have any time to spare to worry about the Wen sect.

It was great.

“Uh, shijie,” Wei Wuxian said after a while. “Are you sure you’re okay with Nie Huaisang? He’s really…sticky.”

“He’s adorable,” Jiang Yanli said.

“He’s taking advantage of you,” Jiang Cheng grumbled. “Don’t think we haven’t noticed how he gets to sit with you in the shade instead of working with us.”

“He sits in the shade because the Nie sect disciples do his share of the work,” Jiang Yanli pointed out. “Just as you do for me.”

“Yeah, but…”

“He’s harmless,” Jiang Yanli said, even though she suspected that if he were pushed to it Nie Huaisang could escalate from brat past menace into actual threat. Hopefully it would never come that. “And it’s good to have company.”

“What do you even talk about?” Jiang Cheng asked. His cheeks were oddly flushed red, and he was averting his eyes – even more oddly, so was Wei Wuxian, who she previously would have said was too shameless to be embarrassed by anything.

“Art, mostly,” she said, puzzled, and even more puzzled when they both flinched. “Recently we were discussing famous landscape artists from the southern part of Gusu.”

“Oh, landscapes,” Wei Wuxian said, exhaling in relief. “That’s all right then. Glad you’re having a good time, shijie.”

“Have fun,” Jiang Cheng agreed, bobbing his head up and down like a fishing bird.

Later, Jiang Yanli narrated the conversation to Nie Huaisang and gave him a stern look when he started giggling. 

“Would you care to explain the joke to your Jiang-jiejie?” she asked, and he waved his hands for a moment of time to catch his breath before explaining to her that he had spent most of his time at the Cloud Recesses acting as a purveyor of a very different type of art.

Jiang Yanli rolled her eyes – fondly, of course, she was always very fond of her boys, even when they forgot that she was three years older than they were – and said, “All right, then, and when were you going to share some with me?”

“I was trying to figure out what types of things you liked first!” Nie Huaisang protested, and this was why she spent so much time with him even when her other boys were also here – he didn’t forget that she was the jiejie, the one who took care of him and made the decisions about what was appropriate, and he was the didi. He didn’t assume that being a man was more important than age, didn’t put aside their “games” of caring in favor of a valiant warlike demeanor; he remained, wonderfully, the same. “I’d gotten it down to three – here, you take this one; let me know what you think.” He winked. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye out to make sure no one comes by while you’re reading.”

“If it’s anything too filthy, you’ll be punished,” she told him, and he looked so delighted by the notion that she suspected she was going to be getting something very filthy indeed. “Little boys don’t need to be looking at such things.”

“Without supervision,” he clarified, and sat down next to her with bright eyes full of anticipation, somehow even more shameless than Wei Wuxian. “From a qualified adult. Like Jiang-jiejie!”

The artwork was utterly filthy, but it was, in fact, just the sort of thing she liked when she snuck into her mother’s rooms to sneak peeks at books filched from the high shelves – better, even, and Nie Huaisang seemed to have an endless supply of it even though he complained bitterly that he’d only brought the cheap stuff that he wouldn’t mind losing, and that the best of that had been mostly bartered away.

That was what it was for, she discovered. Nie Huaisang was selling pornography to bored Wen sect retainers in exchange for creature comforts – better food, a nicer resting place, leniency when he inevitably failed to complete some chore or another – and using the conversations to elicit information.

Not spying, per se, that was far too serious for someone as determinedly frivolous as Nie Huiasang, but it was nice to know when the Wen sect was planning a surprise inspection in the morning or if it was a good day to put on their worst clothing because they were going to be wading through mud.

“You could be quite dangerous if you wanted to be,” she commented to Nie Huaisang one evening while she was brushing his hair. He was very particular about his braids, but he let her do the brushing and oiling; the repetitive action calmed his anxiety, and seeing him calm down and relax into her care in turn calmed her own. “You’re very good at being underestimated.”

“I think I’m estimated at just about right, actually,” he joked. If it had been Jiang Cheng saying it, he would have been turning a dagger on himself with the words; if it had been Wei Wuxian, he would have been boasting; with Nie Huaisang, it was just a joke. He had the confidence to be openly useless – the surest sign of a supportive loving family, she thought wistfully. “What about you? How dangerous are you when you’re not thinking about how to take care of someone?”

“I’m always thinking of that,” she chided him, and tugged lightly on his braids in chastisement; he shivered and quailed very satisfactorily when she did that. Such a good boy for her, when he wanted to be; a very good little brat the rest of the time. “And you know I’m not much of a cultivator.”

“Neither am I,” he said. “I still think Jiang-jiejie could be very scary if she put her mind to it.”

It was nice that he thought so. Nobody else did – perhaps what was why she��d become so interested in caring for people, in making food that they liked and brushing their hair and taking care of their clothing, the sorts of feminine arts that puzzled her mother and weren’t even necessary for a sect leader’s daughter to know how to do. She did it because it was something she could do that, and after a while it became something she longed to do.

Jiang Yanli loved taking care of people.

And Nie Huaisang was so very good at being taken care of. 

Even better than her little A-Xian, if she would allow herself the traitorous little thought – Wei Wuxian liked to play the child for her sometimes, to be spoiled, but he would get bored soon enough, staying only long enough for a few bites of soup and then running off to bicker with Jiang Cheng or to be the brave and chivalrous da-shixiong of the Jiang sect.

Not so Nie Huaisang. He was her little brat all day long: whining and in need of comfort one moment, running too far ahead and in need of a scolding the next, always pushing his luck to see what he could get away with. He was soft, like her; bad at cultivating and good at things like painting and cooking and gossip, feminine things, domestic things, which meant that they had an endless supply of things to talk about that no one else cared about. He made mischief but was obedient, and he thrived under the structure she provided for him, coaxed into doing what he ought and directed away from doing what he shouldn’t.

He was adorable, in a way that she’d never felt about her actual brothers.

Her newest little didi, her A-Sang.

They were, perhaps, growing a little too close.

(But no, Jiang Yanli still maintained the boundaries of being a proper young lady, good obedient Jiang-guniang. Even if she had picked up a very specific pornography habit – but she was never going to tell anyone about that.)

Still, it came as a surprise when they were all in the dark, wretched cave, when the Wen sect threatened them and the corrupted Xuanwu lashed out against the walls to bring down rocks, when one of the Nie sect disciples pushed her behind a rock, shouting, “Take care of Nie-gongzi!” to her as if they really expected her to keep him safe.

“Your men trust me too much,” she said into Nie Huaisang’s hair – his arms were wrapped around her, his eyes watching the battlefield, flicking from side to side as he tracked the course of battle with far more expertise than her. “Don’t you think they meant for you to take care of me?”

“They want you to help keep me from being upset,” he said, and disengaged from her long enough to pick up a fallen sword and throw it with surprising accuracy into the fray – it pieced one of the Wen sect soldiers from behind, breaking their battle line, and the Nie sect disciples overwhelmed them. 

It was a masterful stroke, but Nie Huaisang recoiled from his own hand as if he’d been burned by it. His eyes were wide and white all around the edges, old fears rearing up to rend him into pieces from the inside - she knew the look of it.

“It’s all right,” she said, whispering in his ear. “You did well, didi.”

His shoulders relaxed.

Whatever had made Nie Huaisang so very afraid of shedding blood must had hurt him very deeply, Jiang Yanli thought, and the Nie sect knew it. It all made sense now: that was why they indulged him, why they spoiled him, why they allowed him to grow up as useless as he was, even as they feared him falling into danger. 

It wasn’t that he couldn’t be dangerous - but he wouldn’t be able to bear it.

(Jiang Yanli was very curious to meet the older brother he spoke so very much about. Nearly as much as she spoke of Wei Wuxian or Jiang Cheng, in fact, and didn’t that say everything she needed to know?)

“You should be careful, Jiang-jiejie,” Nie Huaisang murmured as they watched from their safe place as the battle raged on. Every once in a while, he intervened, each strike perfectly placed to cause maximum damage and showing that no matter how much he whined about training there was still muscle and deadly instincts beneath his skin; after each move, she would squeeze him tight and help him regulate his breathing, suppressing the panic attack he immediately fell into so that it could be postponed until a more convenient time. “I might grow to rely on you, and then where would we be? You’d have no choice but to come back to Qinghe and spend your life there with me.”

It was an offer, she thought in surprise, however gently phrased.

It seemed she wasn’t the only one getting a little too close. 

As it happened, Jiang Yanli didn’t have time to respond before the battle finally ended as abruptly as it had started, the Wen sect fleeing the Xuanwu and closing off the exit to the cave, trapping them inside with a ravenous Xuanwu – although one that couldn’t reach them in the corner where they cowered away from it.

The valorous men and women debated what ought to be done next.

The useless ones sat around and waited for their fates to be decided.

Oddly enough, this was the part that began to wear on her. The battle had passed almost without her noticing it, all her attention on caring for Nie Huaisang, but this aftermath - or preliminary, depending on how you looked at it - was utterly agonizing. Watching her brothers ignore her (useless in a fight), think nothing of her (they don’t need her to care for them), no one thought anything of her (what use is she if they don’t need her?) – and then watching them yell at each other and argue and fight without quarter, without mercy, and knowing that she couldn’t intervene, that she was pointless. Her own stress began rising rapidly, her heart beating hard, her breath starting to come short –

“Hey, Jiang-jiejie,” Nie Huaisang said.

She looked at him.

He smiled at her. “I’m hungry. You should make me some soup.”

“Brat,” Jiang Yanli said automatically, and her shoulders slowly came down, calm returning to her heart. He was obviously saying it to comfort her, she wasn’t stupid, but at the same time the request somehow suited her down to the ground and did the trick the way nothing else might have – after all, if her cowardly little brat had enough energy and attention to spare to be begging for food, things couldn’t be that bad. “What type of soup were you thinking?”

His smile widened as he watched the Xuanwu thrashing in the lake, dissatisfied that it could not capture them and rend their bones with its teeth. “Turtle soup.”

(They served it at their wedding.)

[laz-laz-ace-pilot]

Still absolutely knackered after it, but wanted to share something I've been working on that culminated yesterday.

So I work in a library in the UK, and every year prior to the pandemic we've held a Harry Potter night in the library. Harry Potter nights have a lot of support here; almost every major library and bookshop is encouraged to hold some sort of event, its supported by the Royal family, Bloomsbury produce a lot of free promotional activities- you get the picture. For us, we were expected to volunteer our own time and resources to hold an event after working hours, with multiple activities and very few supervising adults for what was often 50+ children. It was exhausting, our book borrowing numbers barely went up, but sales of Harry Potter paraphernalia always did.

So this year, as restrictions were lowered and we were again asked to prepare another Harry Potter event, we tried to refuse. We weren't the first to try; in previous years, colleagues had brought up the various antisemitic themes and imagery, the racist caricatures, the meanspiritedness and the fat phobia, the justification of slavery and the blatant free promotion of a product as reasons to stop hosting these events. And each time, the event would be justified as either 'not wanting to exclude/cancel an author, we're a library and so should give access to all points of view' and, more practically, as 'it's one of our most popular events, we can't afford to get rid of it when so many libraries are being closed for not having enough community interaction'. We also live in a more conservative area of the country, so adding Rowling's use of her popularity to promote transphobia as a reason to stop only backfired, with several colleagues becoming bolstered by the event's support to become more openly transphobic. Yippee.

So we tried something different. We decided to 'hold off' on Harry Potter night given (fairly) the high number of cases at that time in February, and instead hold something at the end of April. With the extra time, we got in touch with several publishers, planned out the event and mocked up several of the would-be activities, then brought our case to our slightly baffled Manager.

We were going to 'expand' Harry Potter night into a larger 'Sci-fi and Fantasy Day' with nine book series being championed instead of one. Each book would have a station with an activity to do; if a child completed each activity, they could win one of the prizes provided kindly by the publishers. We got the go ahead - provided we still include Harry Potter.

So we got ready, advertised, and the thing went ahead yesterday. We were really worried no one would come - we hadn't included much of the boy wizard on the posters and it was going to be a nice day - but eventually a family or two arrived. And then another. And another. And then they didn't stop.

In the end, we had four times as many people attend than we ever did for Harry Potter night, and across a much wider range of ages and ethnicities. We heard from parents who had wanted their kids to join in with events like HP night, but couldn't afford the expensive costumes that they're encouraged to attend in. And from parents who had had no idea their child even liked the Rainbow Fairy books until they named each of the ones we had on display.

And the kids outdid themselves. Not only did they enjoy the crafts, they improved on them, telling us about how they'd used the wool pompoms to make unicorns instead of dragons, or changed Percy Jackson's Riptide into a shape shifting sword-boat-plane hybrid. I don't think kids get enough opportunities to just make things, and suddenly they had all these materials and their imaginations just went wild. Ahead of the event we'd made sure to order in copies of each book series, hoping one or two might get borrowed like with HP night - every single copy went out, and we had to order more from other libraries. And not just the series books - non-fiction books about Greek mythology and dragons and fairies and time travel and space. They cleaned us out.

Jk Rowling did have her station, and kids did some of the activities there. But ultimately, she just wasn't as interesting as Percy Jackson or Doctor Who or How to Train your Dragon or Rainbow Fairies or His Dark Materials. She was still there, she wasn't cancelled, but the kids just weren't as interested.

Sorry this is a long post and not that interesting, but I just needed to write it down because we did so much yesterday. We held a great event that children and parents enjoyed. We introduced books and ideas to kids and they embraced it 100%. We got kids and adults making crafts they otherwise wouldn't have access to and inventing their own. And we proved it wasn't Harry Potter enticing children to the library - it was imagination, and creativity, and curiosity and adventure.

Its early days so we don't know if we'll be allowed to do it again next year - plenty of our colleagues were angry we'd changed it when they eventually found out. But we're planning for next year anyway - we are going to try and promote new authors from different backgrounds with the help of the connections we made with the publishing houses. And even if that gets shut down, we at least had a small win in getting those kids to try new things. And because I didn't have to spend my free time glue gunning myself to a chopstick trying make a wand to promote a woman who is quite happy to use her influence to make sure I don't exist.

Also note to any aspiring children's authors - put dragons in. I can't reiterate enough how much every generation loves dragons. Just fyi.

Probably obvious but terfs dni.

[sarahjtv]

BNHA Chapter 309 Spoiler Thoughts: Izuku and Inko Midoriya, and Some More Things Along The Way

The chapter leaks are here again!  Thanks to all the people on Twitter and here on Tumblr for providing us with scans and translations.  This chapter helps explain some things that a lot of us were wondering about.  Sadly, there’s still no Bakugo, or Shoto, or any other UA kids really; they’re only in flashbacks.  But, we do get to see what All Might and the Top 3 Heroes (Endeavor, Hawks, and Best Jeanist) are up to, so that’s something.  Anyway, remember to take what I say with a grain of salt until the official translations come out on Sunday:

The chapter starts a few minutes after Deku beat Muscular.  He’s flying through the air taking an unconscious Muscular tied up in his Black Whip.  The other Ketsubusu Academy students from the Lisence Exam see him too.  Thankfully the stubborn civilians from 2 chapters ago are willing to help Yo Shindo recover in exchange for not listening moving to the school shelters.  Also, Shindo’s barely conscious, but he does actually remember Deku.  He’s just not the same Deku as before.  Not much for me to say here except that I wonder if Shindo’s going to help spread the word about Deku’s actions.  Not just to his classmates, but I wonder if the words’ going to get out to the news and UA.  Actually, word might not even get that far since Shindo was only one of the few people in that exam that really even interacted with Deku...

Deku hands Muscular over to the police for them to take care off.  He also makes sure to cover himself up in Smokescreen to hide his identity.  So, Deku really is working in the shadows here.  It is best that the public doesn’t know what Deku is doing so that the LoV don’t track him down.  My man’s really going down the Batman route.  Oh, I also have to admire Deku’s smartphone here kept in this steel case.  I was going to say it’s a burner phone, but burner phones break easily for a reason and this one clearly doesn’t.  Maybe it’s a special one that can’t be tracked down.    

And we finally get to see All Might again!  He is actively working with Deku instead of just not knowing where his protege is.  He’s wearing casual clothes (jacket, jeans, sunglasses, the works) when he meets up with Deku in an alleyway.  I’m honestly glad that All Might is still supervising Deku.  I mean, Deku on his own would’ve been badass, but when you’re going up against people like AFO and Shigaraki, you’re going to need some help.  Especially when laying low.  Even with supervision, I still think Deku counts as a vigilante b/c I don’t think his license works if he’s not at UA.  I will believe this unless proven otherwise.  

It’s explained that the “wrapping” on Deku’s arms are actually gauntlets called “Mid-Gauntlets”, which are what are helping hold Deku’s arms together.  And they are VERY similar to the gauntlets that Melissa Shield from Two Heroes gave Deku.  Deku even says that All Might ordered them from the USA before travel restrictions were put in place.  I know that it’s only implied, but there’s no doubt in my mind that Deku’s new gauntlets were made by Melissa.  Even if you want to doubt it, at this point, Two Heroes (and by extension Heroes Rising and probably the upcoming 3rd movie, World Heroes Mission) are canon.  Honestly, I’m cool with it.  I liked Melissa and I’m glad her presence is still around (she was even in a Team-Up Mission chapter with Hatsume).  I do wonder if we’re ever going to see her in the main story.  It would be nice to see Melissa again.

The gauntlets are test samples and are used to enhance endurance.  All Might says that they can’t withstand 100% of OFA yet.  Which means that Deku actually beat Muscular with less than 100% unlike their first fight where Deku had to use over 100% just to knock him out.  So, does this mean that, say, Deku’s current 45% is stronger than his 100+% back in the Forest Camp?  Or maybe it was just the combo of moves and strategy rather then Deku just punching his way through things.

Small detail, but All Might’s phone goes off with that “I AM HERE” ringtone we heard before and Deku comments that this particular one is from All Might’s Silver Age TV Special!  It’s such a small thing, but I love that Deku still has that All Might fanboy in him despite everything 💚!  Somethings truly never change.

And back to the Top 3: Endeavor, Hawks, and Best Jeanist!  Endeavor and Best Jeanist are teaming up to kick a villain’s ass while Hawks is talking to All Might on the phone.  It looks like Hawks got a few costume changes particularly his visor/glasses which look more boxy than they did before if that makes sense.  Oh, and they’re also helping All Might work with Deku.  Makes sense since all three vowed to help take down Dabi earlier and Shigaraki and AFO definitely extend from that.

Deku’s Danger Sense is going off, so he’s probably going to check out any danger he can find in case it’s the LoV.  I do wonder if that harms Deku still.  It was said that it felt like a stabbing in his head and it must’ve been bad enough for the 4th OFA Holder to live in the forest away from society.  Man, I really hope our boy is ok (I know he’s not really, let me have this).

But yeah, Hawks (still wingless, but with a nice little undercut btw😳) explains that Deku's afraid of dragging other people in his battles like All Might.  Hawks also goes on to say that it’s best to take the initiative in taking down AFO and Shigaraki rather than waiting for them to appear all powered up.  He also wants All Might to keep supporting him despite the difficult position he’s in (remember that All Might’s technically Qurikless again and can’t really fight on his own).  It makes sense for them to go after the Villains again while they can.  If Deku fought Shigaraki while Shigaraki was at full strength, Deku would lose easily.  Even at 75%, Shigaraki was able to kill and injure A LOT of people, and Deku was lucky to even make it out there alive.  They need to find Shigaraki SOON!  

Flashback to Central Hospital before Deku jumped UA ship!  Recover Girl and Central Hospital’s high-tech were responsible for many of the patience recovering quickly and being discarged.  Deku was just there a little longer than the others.  So, we can assume that all our UA kids and some notable heroes made it out alive after being treated.  Still don’t know what happened to some people like Tamaki and Fat Gum tho 😭.  

All Might and Deku’s mom, Inko (thank god she’s ok), are by Deku’s bedside as his casts are taken off.  Deku’s doctor (who looks like Super Mario/Luigi; the whole Super Mario crew must run this damn place.  Where’s Bowser and Princess Peach) explains that despite his former warnings about his ligaments, Deku’s limbs are still functioning because he’s not the same as he was before.  So, before, Deku’s injuries were like his limbs were exploding from the inside, but this time those “explosions” were able to escape his body.  Also his Black Whip cast helped keep Deku’s arm in tact so that he wouldn’t pulverize himself.  His ligimates are still degrading too, so Deku still has to be careful.  I think he might have a few more small scars too, but that could just be shadows or muscle lining from Horikoshi’s pen-work.  

Ok, honestly, I’m not sure how this logically works...  I’m no medical professional, but I assume this means that Deku’s built his body up so much that it’s naturally able to withstand more damage than before and that’s why he’s more durable.  But, I don’t know how Deku was able to let the “explosions” escape this time.  I get the reverse; I get how he got injured before, but I don’t get this.  Was it the Black Whip brace he made for himself?  I honestly don’t really understand this.  Maybe the official translations will clear this up.  Or Horikoshi will in a Tweet or Volume Extra.

And Inko is finally informed of OFA thank the gods!  She was in the top of my list of “People who should really, really know OFA and what’s going on with Deku because I swear...”.  She’s clearly shaken up as anyone would be, but I’m glad she at least knows what’s going on with her son.  Yes, she’s still worried, but at least she can stop guessing why all this is happening.  

Deku announces the reason why he won’t go back to UA and it’s basically that Shigaraki can sense where Deku is and he doesn’t want to see anyone else close to him get hurt and/or die.  So, basically what I thought would be the reason.  Absolutely no surprise there.  But, going after Shigaraki and AFO first was originally Deku’s idea, so that’s something new.  Kid’s bold.

And this broke my heart 💔!  Inko insists that Deku stay with her to stay safe, but Deku knows what he has to do.  So, he thanks his mom, thanks her for making him happy, and tells her that he’ll be ok and that he’ll come back home with a somber smile on his face.  We see a flashback to Little Deku and Inko too when they were happier.  Bro, I don’t even know what to say.  I am in tears just writing this 😭  I’ll just post these two panels so y’all can cry with me.  I will never recover from this.  I’m fucking devastated.  You better come home, Deku: 

*sniffs* All Might remembers what he said to Inko.  He remembers how he said that he will protect Deku with his life.  All Might encourages Deku to go and he says that he’ll go with him with tears in his eyes.  He asks the Top 3 to help with this mission (finding Dabi) as their own mission coincides with Deku’s (finding Shigaraki and AFO).  I’m so glad all these adults are staying by Deku’s side throughout this.  It’s good to know that Deku still has support, though I wish it were from some of his friends too.  Maybe one day.

Deku goes to see Grand Torino in his hospital room to talk to him about OFA.  He mentions his friend and 7th Holder Nana Shimura.  Torino thinks he was responsible for killing Shigaraki (he really wasn’t let's be real).  He also tells Deku that Deku shouldn’t be so persistent in saving Shigaraki as killing can sometimes lead to salvation. Ok, few things:

1. I am surprised Grand Tarino is still alive.  I mean, we don’t know what happened to him after this talk, but at least he got to hear from Deku again.  It’s kind of nice to know that Tarino willingly passed down his cape to Deku too instead of Deku just taking it after his death.  Also, I’ve been watching some of Jujutsu Kaisen like everyone else has and this give me some Yuji & his grandfather vibes to it.  Knowing what happens there and that JJK’s magaka is good friends with Horikoshi, I have a sinking feeling I know what happened after this talk...

2. Deku looks so much older here.  Like, it’s not that cute, innocent baby face we knew at the beginning.  I don’t even know what it is exactly (maybe the eyes), but he just looks more mature here.  Also, his uniform some buttons down looks really good on him, I’m sorry but I need to mention that too 💚.

3. “Killing is a means towards salvation”.  Oh, boy...  I mean, I get it.  Some people just can’t be saved or captured in hopes of rehabilitation/redemption.  Sometimes killing people is necessary to save others.  But, Deku is not a killer.  He will try to save Shigaraki no matter what.  That was established again last chapter.   He tried to save Muscular for god’s sake.  But, I am curious if Gran Tarino’s words are going to hold any weight in the final fight. Like, will Deku have to kill Shigaraki?  What will that do to Deku as a person?  I’m really curious if Horikoshi is going to make Deku do this.

And finally, there’s a page showing off the Top 3, Deku, and All Might team up with the resolve to beat the LoV.  I am really interested to see where this goes.  Deku is working with the big Pro Heroes instead of his classmates/friends.  This hasn’t really happened before.  I also wonder if Shoto and Bakugo know what Deku’s doing then.  Because Shoto’s going to help Endeavor and his family find Dabi.  Endeavor’s activley helping Deku.  Also, Endeavor and Best Jeanist are both Bakugo’s mentors.  All Might too actually.  Look, maybe I’m making excuses to see my Origin Trio together again, but I do have to wonder if Shoto and Bakugo are involved somehow.

Welp, that’s it.  This chapter was a rollercoaster!  I was excited, I was confused, I was worried, I cried my eyes out at one point because THOSE TWO PANELS I CANNOT 💔😭!  I’m honestly just waiting for Horokishi to drop some major time-skip on us at some point.  I don’t want him to, but I won’t be entirely surprised if he does.  The end of this chapter is a good place to end if Horikoshi wants to segway into something else like, oh IDK, THE UA KIDS LET ME SEE THEM AGAIN HORIKOSHI PLS I’M BEGGING 💸  

Me @ Horikoshi almost every week:

[just-horrible-things]

Story: Mina and Marten [First | Prev | Next]

---

Phone Call

"Mum!" Mina exclaims, making her voice just sunny with cheer. "Fancy hearing from you! What a nice surprise." "Yasmine, we need to talk." Well duh, thinks Mina, it's not like you'd call me just to catch up. "What would you like to talk about, Mummy dearest? I could tell you how my day is going, or you could ask about my love life, or--" "You know what," Mum interrupts. Mina sighs dramatically. "I'm sorry," she says, "I can only read minds over video call." "The boy." "You mean Marten? He has a name, Mum, although I suppose that would be a lot to ask since you can't even remember mine. I thought you didn't watch my 'brainless non-content'?" "Your Aunt Kate told me what 's going on."

"Oh, of course!" Mina giggles, high-pitched, aware of how the phone line will mangle the sound. "Auntie Katie hasn't talked to me in donkey's years so I'm sure she understands all the details of my life." "I've watched the videos. You have a human being, wearing a collar, living in your apartment and sleeping in a dog bed for Christ's sake."

Marten likes his bed, he said so. He said it's comfy. It's what the promotional videos show, it's what you're meant to do for a Boxie. Some YouTubers keep theirs in cages. What's she meant to do, have him sleep in her bed?

What she says is, "Everyone's doing it, Mum. Didn't you want me to make money? This is where the money is. Viewers just love Boxies!" "Stop using that tone with me, Yasmine. Just talk like a normal person." "That tone, Mummy? This is just what my voice is like! Maybe there's something wrong with the phone line, hold on a second." She blows into the microphone sharply.

Mum sighs dramatically. "Oh forget it. Don't you understand what you're doing?" "Boxies are perfectly legal, Mum. He signed a contract, I've seen it with my own eyes." "It's a thin veil over slavery! The corporations won't get away with it for long. The courts will come down hard on it, and then where will you be? Think about your reputation! You'll never get a real job if--" "I have a real job, Mum." "Legal or not, it's completely unethical. I'm ashamed to call you my daughter!" Another too loud giggle. "Oh I'm sorry Mummy, whatever will I do without your support? How about continue how I have been for the last ten years! Goodness, I don't know if I'll cope."

"He's a human being, Yasmine!" "I know that!" Mina snaps. "I never asked for this! Did you actually watch anything or did you look at a thumbnail and decide that you know everything? I didn't want some... stranger, living in my room! I didn't want a human pet! Someone else sent him to me!"

There is a silence. Mina sniffles, and fakes a little sob. Mum hates it when she cries.

"Well," Mum says at last, sounding affronted. "Can't you send him back?" "What a great idea," Mina sighs. "I sure wish I'd thought of that." "You could you just... set him loose. Doesn't he deserve to be free?" Mina is absolutely sure that Mum has not watched any of the footage. Probably she just looked at the video titles. She tries to imagine Marten on his own. Where would he sleep? What would he eat? He had a panic attack when he tried to ride the elevator down two floors to the laundry room for goodness' sake.

"Boxies have to be supervised, Mum. He'd be breaking his contract, he'd get into trouble! Do you need me to Google the rules for you? I could copy it out in nice small words if you'd like that." "Well you can't keep him. He's a human being!" "Mummy dearest," Mina's voice is cracking with emotion and she leans into it, overacting. "I am an independent adult, and I make my own choices. You ran out of excuses to control my life years ago! If you wanted a say, maybe you should have been nicer to me while I still cared!" "Oh Yasmine, do stop going on. It has nothing to do with our relationship. This is much more important." "I'm not even important to you?" "This is a person's life." "I know that, Mummy dearest! What do you even want me to do?" Mum hesitates. Mina pounces on the opening. "I know, I'll just send him back to the factory he came from, I'm sure the corporations will take much better care of him than I can, won't that be just fantastic?" "Why can't you ever discuss anything like an adult?" "I can! I just choose not to when it's you!"

She hears her mother start on another barb as she takes the phone from her ear. Her nagging voice cuts off as Mina ends the call.

Sniffling, she pulls a kleenex from the box and dabs delicately at her tears. It comes away black with makeup, and she wonders how badly she is smudged. Oh well. It's not like Marten cares.

Marten.

"Oh sugar."

Marten sits in his bed with his knees drawn up to his chest. Tears stream down his cheeks and over hands he has clamped over his mouth. He is shaking with silent sobs, staring horrified at Mina as if she might be about to murder him.

"Oh no, Marten!" Mina is mortified. "I'm so sorry, honey. I'm not mad at you, no one's mad at you. Marten, sweetheart, I was just on the phone to my mum, don't be upset!" She crouches beside him, worried, but he doesn't move. "Honey, you're not in trouble, what's wrong? I didn't mean to upset you, sweetie, talk to me?" “Don’t send me back!” he gasps, voice half-smothered with terror. “Please, please don’t -- don’t send me back!” "Okay! Okay, I won't! Don't panic, sweetheart!"

Without his hands holding them back, the sobs tumble out of Marten uncontrolled. Great ugly, breathy gasps of panic and despair. “I’m not sending you back,” Mina assures him frantically. Should she hug him? Give him space? "Oh honey, I was just saying that to my mum to make her go away, I would never! Don't be scared. You're so well-behaved, and so good for the cameras, and the viewers love you, why would I send you back?" ”I... I’m good?” “You’re very, very good. Poor sweetheart, how can I help you, I didn’t mean to upset you!” “Could, um, could you h-hold me?” Marten snivels pitifully. “Of course sweetie, of course I can. Come here.”

Marten practically throws himself into Mina's arms, knocking her back on her butt. She shuffles backwards to the closest beanbag, pulling him along with her, and gathers him into her lap. He clings to her clothes and sobs into her shoulder while she puts her arms around him and awkwardly pats his back.

"Shh, shh," she soothes, “There there, poor darling. It’s okay. It’s okay, you don’t have to be scared.” “Please don’t send me back,” he begs again, “I’ll be better, I’ll be anything you want, don’t send me ba-ack…” “It’s okay honey, it’s okay. I’m not sending you back. If you don’t want to go back, you don’t have to.” “Do… do you promise?” “I promise. If you don't want to, you don’t ever have to go back.” “Thank you,” Marten sobs, “Thank you, Mina.”

But he doesn’t stop crying.

“There you go,” Mina assures him, rocking him gently. “Poor thing. It’s okay. It’s okay to cry, just let it all out. I’m so sorry I scared you.” She thought he was crying hard before, but when she gives him permission he wails like a lost child.

And he doesn’t stop.

She holds him. She pets his hair and apologises. She rocks him and murmurs comfort words and he cries on and on and on, clinging tightly and bawling his eyes out.

Eventually, worried and a little exasperated, she pulls her head back far enough to see his face and asks “Honey, why are you crying?” He sniffles, and tries to stop sobbing long enough to answer. “I just want to be good,” he blubbers miserably. “I only want to be good for you, that’s what I’m for, I don’t know what to do.” “You are good, sweetie. You’ve never done anything bad at all.” He hides his face in her top and cries harder. “But,” he whimpers, “but you don’t want me…” “Oh, honey, no.” Mina feels awful. “Honey no, I didn't mean that, I was only talking to my mum...”

“I just want to be good.” The words seem to be spilling out of Marten now. “And good Boxies are, are wanted, they get bought and they go to nice homes with nice owners and, and they have happy lives fulfilling their owner’s desires and, and I thought I was good, I only want to make you happy, Mina, but I, I thought you wanted me and, and you don’t…” “Of course I want you, Marten, of course I do. I didn’t mean it like that, I, erm…”

“But you didn't even choose me,” Marten says softly. “You didn’t want a - a pet...” “I didn’t know that I wanted you,” Mina tells him. “That’s what I should have said. I didn’t know I wanted you. But Marten, you were a great surprise. It’s me who should be sorry. I’m not a very good owner. I don’t know how to keep you happy, and I don’t have a nice house or anything…” “You’re the best owner,” Marten blurts out with surprising vehemence. He starts crying again. “You’re so good to me and, and you’re kind, and pretty, and I love you, Mina. I just want to make you happy.” “You do make me happy, sweetie. You do.”

Mina has to hold him a good while longer, but he does start to calm down slowly. She stares solemnly at her posters on the wall, not really seeing them, as she murmurs reassurances on autopilot. Are these the right things to say? This is... such a huge responsibility. She wasn't ready for a cat, let alone a whole entire human being. He needs so much affection, all the time.

Mina is not cut out for this.

Eventually he stops crying. Mina waits another ten minutes before she tries to talk to him.

“Would it really be so very bad," she asks carefully, "going back to the company?” Marten stiffens instantly, hands tightening in her clothes. “Don’t worry!” she hurries to tell him, “I’m not gonna send you back! Not unless you want to go. I'm just asking, because I want to understand... why you’re so scared?” Marten is quiet. "You don't have to talk about it," Mina backtracks. "That's okay, I was just curious, don't worry about it. “If the owner sends a product back," Marten's voice is wobbly, "it needs to be refurbished. I… I don’t want to be refurbished…” “But you could have a better owner. A rich one, who can give you the luxury and stuff you signed up for. A big, tidy house. An owner who knows what they're doing...” “I don’t want anyone else,” he sniffles. “I want you.”

He’s starting to cry again. Mina sighs. “That’s okay then. You’ll stay here, and no one’s gonna send you back. Nothing to worry about. It’ll just be you and me.” She brushes the hair carefully away from his damp and sticky face. “And hey. If you keep bringing in the views, maybe some day we’ll have a nice house too.”

“I’m sorry I’m not better,” Marten tells her sadly. “I wish I was a smart Boxie so I could help you out and stuff…” “Oh sweetie. Shall I tell you a secret?” Mina smiles sadly. “I’m not very smart either. But it’s okay! You don’t have to be smart to do well on YouTube. You just have to look pretty. And we’re both pretty good at that!”

[Next]

[hyperpsychomaniac]

The Woodchuck Leader Assessment - Chapter 4

DT17 Fanfiction

Summary: When Launchpad’s ability to supervise children is called into question, Dewey tags along on a Junior Woodchuck trip to support his best friend.

Chapter 1

Also cross-posted on fanfiction.net.

***

Dewey slipped into his and Huey’s tent. And found not only Huey, but Violet and at least a half dozen of the other Woodchucks.

“What…”

“Shh!” said Huey.

“Oh yes, I am claiming running through camp in my underpants,” said Doofus as he rubbed his hands together. “Back off; it’s mine!”

No one argued.

“Am I interrupting something?” Dewey snatched his pillow back from one of the other kids.

“We were discussing the implementation of stage 2 Competent Leader Protocols,” said Violet.

Dewey raised an eyebrow. “So what was stage 1?”

“Behaving for Launchpad.”

“And stage 2?”

The faintest smile touched Violet’s beak. “Only behaving for Launchpad.”

“Yeah.” Huey hugged his knees to his chest. “I’m not sure stage 2 is going to be enough, all by itself. I mean, LP’s great, but I don’t know if we can depend on him. If he can’t supervise us… it was like Mr Russell said, there’s nobody else. What am I going to do without my Woodchucks?!” He lunged at Dewey and dragged him towards him.

Dewey extricated his brother’s fingers from his shirt. “Calm down. I don’t care about your Woodchucks. But if what we’re talking about is going to help Launchpad…” Dewey chewed his lip. On the bus, Launchpad had just been, off. What the heck had happened between him and Mr Russell? It had to be something to do with the kid who drowned, but Launchpad didn’t want to talk to him. He was his best friend and Dewey knew if it was something important he’d want to share it with him. The fact he hadn’t… yeah, really off. “So, only behaving for Launchpad…?”

“A combination of multiple children needing walking to the bathroom, Doofus running around in nothing but his underwear…”

“Or, I could ditch the underwear.”

“No. … toilet paper, someone crying for their teddy bear, at least one item of Mr Russell’s clothing hung off a tree, and we make every attempt to respond to his orders with…?”

“Okay, Boomer,” said all the Woodchucks at once.

“Of course, the whole point is if Launchpad comes back we all immediately behave to prove he can control us,” said Huey, “or NO MORE WOODCHUCKS.”

“Boo,” said Dewey. “Huey may actually be right: it’s not enough. Launchpad needs better than that. You don’t just want to behave for him. You’ve got to prove he’s the sort of leader who would do anything to protect you. Here’s what we do: we set up a scenario in which some poor helpless child needs rescuing, because although we know Launchpad sometimes needs help with things, he’d never let anyone he cares about get hurt.”

“Yeah, who…” said Huey.

Dewey stood up and stabbed a finger into the canvas. “And I shall be your damsel in dew-stress!”

***

Launchpad flung the bus door open. “Aw man, LP. What are you doing?” He’d fallen asleep. Outside, the rain had lifted and the morning was wet and cold. “You can’t tell your Woodchucks they gotta sleep out in nature when you spend the night on the nice warm bus.”

He crammed his hat back on his head and jogged back down to the campsite. He slipped in the wet leaves and slid down a short section of the path, which resulted in a rather painful stop courtesy of a medium sized boulder, but at least it bought him a couple extra seconds.

Launchpad skidded into the campsite. It was quiet, too quiet. In his absence, Violet and Huey should have been awake and setting up a campfire for breakfast. But, maybe, he’d avoided the embarrassment of getting caught.

A tent flap opened and Jack emerged, rubbing blearily at his eyes.

Launchpad grabbed up a piece of firewood, then just pulled himself up short of pegging it into the firepit. He didn’t need to pretend to set up the fire.

“Well, there you are,” Jack grumbled. “When you said you wanted me to help I didn’t realise you were going to dump the kids on me for the entire night!”

Even with the realisation he didn’t need to look busy for Jack the man’s words made Launchpad’s heart sink. He’d messed up. He’d ditched his Woodchucks and even though an adult had been there to look after them… he’d left them alone with Jack Russell.

“Where are the kids anyway?” Launchpad lifted the flap to Huey and Dewey’s tent. Empty. Great. At least they knew how to take care of themselves. Nothing would be wrong. This was just something else for Jack to put in his report.

“Hey, don’t look at me,” said Jack. “I was up half the night telling kids to walk themselves to the toilet. And… where is my hat?”

Launchpad spotted it, swinging high up on a tree branch above Jack’s tent. “I think it fell into a tree.”

Huey exploded into the camp. “Launchpad! We went to get firewood… Dewey’s stuck on the bridge over the river!”

Launchpad’s heart caught. “Oh no, Dewey!”

“Wait, stuck on a bridge how?” said Jack. “Shouldn’t you just… go and unstick him?”

“He’s… really stuck,” said Huey, “Launchpad needs to come pull him out because, you know, he’s strong and a good Woodchuck leader, so…”

The other Woodchucks emerged from their tents, rubbing blearily at eyes, wondering what all the ruckus was about. Launchpad gulped. This was all he needed with Jack here. And then he felt bad, because this was about Dewey, not his assessment. He hadn’t been very nice to him on the bus last night. If he’d got hurt or got himself in trouble after how Launchpad had treated him, he’d feel terrible. At least being stuck on a bridge didn’t sound that bad. In fact, he did wonder why Huey hadn’t just pulled his brother off himself.

“Because he’s a good…” Jack slapped a hand to his forehead. “Launchpad, your damn kids are setting you up.”

“Just be quiet, my best friend needs me. Come on Woodchucks, to the river!”

Usually, it took a bit of coaxing to get them moving but they responded immediately. They all followed Huey, Jack trailing behind them and grumbling all the way.

The river was flowing fast after the rain last night and the roar made Launchpad’s guts tighten. This far down from the swimming hole the river cut through a gully with a rope bridge strung across, the water surging and gurgling beneath. Dewey was halfway across the bridge, his leg tangled in a loose rope, his top half hanging upside down from the bridge with his hands swinging. “Oh, help. I have fallen and my foot is stuck. I cannot get up.” At least he didn’t sound particularly panicked.

“This is ridiculous,” said Jack.

“Hang on, Dewey. I’m coming to get you.” Launchpad put a hand on the wooden stake that anchored the bridge.

“Wait.” Jack grabbed Launchpad’s sleeve.

Launchpad yanked his arm back, but slowed.

“Send these two out after them. They’re half your weight put together and their two pairs of hands will probably get that… classic example of a Woodchuck knot around that poor kid’s ankle undone a lot quicker.”

“That’s… a good idea,” said Launchpad, although the rope bridge looked sturdy and wouldn’t be in any danger of snapping under his weight.

Violet and Huey both exchanged glances. “It would be better if Launchpad did it,” said Huey, rubbing at the back of his head.

“Yeah, just as I thought. You cannot control these kids, Launchpad. You should’ve seen the antics they were getting up to last night. Pretty sure they’ve set this whole thing up to try and make you look good.”

“But I’m really stuck… urgh, forget it!” Dewey rolled himself back onto the bridge and tugged at the knot around his ankle.

Wait, he wasn’t really stuck? Oh. It finally sunk in. Launchpad turned to Violet and Huey as his chest tightened. “You two… set me up?”

“Stage 2 Competent Leader Protocols weren’t enough. We went to stage 3. Dewey’s idea… but yes,” Violet mumbled into her chest.

Launchpad squeezed his eyes shut briefly. “Dewey, come on, get off the bridge, its dangerous out there.”

“I’m fine. I just need to get this knot off… hang on…”

“And you two…” His two most senior Woodchucks looked at their feet. And though it hurt they’d pulled one over on him, Launchpad knew they’d only been trying to help. He swallowed, and lowered his voice. “You don’t have to set up something like this to help me, okay? I really thought Dewey was in trouble.”

“But it wasn’t just for you!” Huey burst out. “It was for all the Woodchucks. If they make you quit then no one will want us and we’ll have no more Woodchucks, and I… I can’t live without Woodchucks!” He fell to his knees and put his face in his hands.

“I too would find it quite devastating,” said Violet.

“Wait, who told you that?”

“I did, genius,” Jack snorted. “Along with a few other truths while you were pouting on the bus.”

Launchpad’s fists bunched at his sides. He’d left his Woodchucks alone with Jack. What had he been thinking? “Like what?”

“I explained how failure badges are supposed to work. Apparently you’ve been flashing yours around like some kind of trophy and giving these kids the wrong idea. Just like you did as a kid. It didn’t matter how hard I tried to get you to understand, I never could get the concept through your thick head.”

“Don’t speak to me like that. And how dare you make these kids feel like they should be ashamed of…”

“It’s not about shame! It’s about reality, and realistic expectations, and not setting these kids up for failure. I don’t know how you fluked your way through to a leadership role Launchpad, but when the cards come down you’re just going to get somebody killed! You know, like you did Calvin. At least then you were a kid; you had an excuse. Not anymore.”

Launchpad’s chest heaved, but this time he didn’t feel like running. “You have no idea, do you? We only went down to the river that night because we had something to prove. If you’d encouraged us instead of bullying us in front of the other kids, just because we failed a couple times, we would’ve waited until we had a chance to try for the badge again. We were kids, it was the only way we thought we could get you to stop. But it was never what were were good at or not, it was always you. You were in charge, Jack. You had the power. And you just used it to make us fell like we were never good enough no matter what we did!”

“Wait, Calvin… he was the kid who drowned?” said Huey tentatively.

Launchpad swallowed hard. “Yeah. He jumped in trying to save me.”

“Oh, Launchpad,” said Dewey. “That’s not your fault.”

“Yeah, I know that now.”

“I’m… I’m going to give you a hug.” Dewey picked himself up and rushed back, but tripped as the still tied knot brought him up short. He smacked face first onto the bridge, sending it swinging wildly, then rolled right off the edge.

Launchpad’s heart caught. “Dewey!”

The rope jerked taut and Dewey swung by his ankle above the roaring water below. “Oh, um, now I really do need help?”

Launchpad rushed out onto the bridge. He grabbed at the rope and started hauling it up arm over arm.

“LP, I’m really sorry,” said Dewey as he was slowly raised. “We didn’t think this out at all. I should’ve got stuck up a tree or something.”

Launchpad gritted his teeth and hauled on the rope faster. “Heh. Don’t worry about that, buddy. No harm done.” Come on. Come on. Because despite Dewey’s calm, Launchpad could see the knot he’d been picking at slowly start to unravel.

“Woah, maybe slow down? I’m getting dizzy.”

Huey and Violet must have seen it too. They rushed out onto the bridge and leaned through the ropes, reaching out for Dewey as he neared.

A frown creased Dewey’s beak. “Seriously guys, I’m fine…”

Launchpad yanked up another loop of rope and swiped at Dewey’s ankle. The bridge bucked, and the rope slipped free. Dewey’s eyes widened, arm outstretched, then his back smashed into the water beneath and he disappeared. He was gone for a split second, then he resurfaced. “It’s okay… can… swim…” He choked off as a slosh of water slapped in the face and went down his throat, and then the current pulled him away.

Launchpad’s hands tightened on the bridge. No. Not this time. He slid under the rope.

“Launchpad, you idiot!” Jack yelled. “You’re not going to be able to…”

The rest of his words were lost as Launchpad slammed into the water below. The shock of cold bit at him. The current snatched at him. Yeah. Far stronger than it looked. There was no way he was letting Dewey brave this alone. He spluttered, and surfaced.

“Launchpad! Violet and I are going to get a rope down steam. You got to get out before the waterfall.”

Of course there was a waterfall. Launchpad saw a flash of blue ahead and struck out with strong strokes, not so much moving himself through the water, but keeping his head above it as the current propelled him along.

Jack was right; there wasn’t a swimming badge on Launchpad’s sash. But that didn’t mean he didn’t know how to swim. Six months after everything had happened with Calvin, and after he’d convinced his parents he did in fact want to return to Woodchucks now Mr Russell was gone, he’d earned it. He could still remember Ms H, who was much nicer than Mr Russell, congratulating him and pressing the badge into his palm.

He’d stared at the embroidered circled as tears filled his eyes. “I… I don’t deserve this.”

She’d got down on her knees and put her hands on his trembling shoulders. “Sweetheart, its okay. I get it. You don’t have to put it on if you don’t want to. The badge isn’t the important bit. You’ve still got the skill, and as long as you know that’s there whenever you might need it you don’t have to prove that to anyone else.”

Launchpad choked as a wash of water slapped into his face. Keeping his head above water became harder and harder as the current picked up. He spotted his friend ahead, clinging desperately to a rock. This close to the waterfall, roaring clearly ahead of them now, the water snatched at Dewey and he whimpered as his fingers slipped across the rough surface. Launchpad let a really vicious snarl of water grab him and hurl him towards the rock. He grunted as his shoulder slammed into it and pulled Dewey into his chest just as the boy’s numb fingers lost their grip.

“LP…” Dewey immediately grappled for Launchpad, his fingers digging like claws into his neck.

Launchpad spluttered as he was shoved under. He heaved himself up out of the water with one arm on the rock, and clutched Dewey to his chest with the other. He hauled them both up high enough they were no longer in danger of getting dunked and the force of the water wasn’t strong enough to pull him away. “It’s… it’s okay… I got ya.”

Dewey’s breath came in spluttering gasps. “Sorry… I… trying to make you look good…”

“I know.”

“It’s cold.”

Launchpad started to shiver as the ice water bit into his skin. “Hey, Violet and Huey are working on it. They’re going to get us out. Probably use maths or something. They seem to be good at that.”

“LP, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do this to you… I didn’t know about your friend…” Dewey sniffed, and pressed his face against Launchpad’s neck.

“Right now I’m only thinking about you.”

A rope, attached to a short fat log, sailed out over them and hit Launchpad in the back. He grabbed it.

“Tie it to Dewey!” Huey yelled from the bank.

Launchpad untied the rope and looped it about Dewey’s waist. “You’re not going to drown,” he said, looking his friend right in the eye as his fingers automatically tied the knots he’d done a million times. “I won’t let that happen.”

“LP, look out!” Huey shouted.

A log spun down the river towards them. Launchpad jerked the knot tight about Dewey’s waist, then shoved him off towards the bank. He pushed his friend clear of the log, but it collected Launchpad across the middle, swept him off the rock, and dragged him under. The quickening torrent grabbed him, and suddenly Launchpad was back in the hell of breathless tumbling terror he’d found himself in as a child.

But at least he’d got Dewey out.

***

A long way below the waterfall, Launchpad pulled himself up onto the bank and heaved out a stomach-full of water. Clear of the torrent he gulped deep breaths, his head resting against his forearms, too heavy to lift.

It had taken every ounce of his strength to reach the bank. His body trembled with cold and exertion. He’d been tossed at the whim of the current, slammed into anything and everything. Even as an adult, as strong as he was, it had been terrifying. He’d thought there was no way he’d be able to save himself, right up until he’d felt the pebbles of the shore beneath his feet. He hadn’t drowned. But all he could think was how much scarier that ordeal would be for a child. How scary had it been for Calvin to fight to save himself in the darkness, and fail? Launchpad shuddered, and as he finally caught his breath his gulps for air became sobs.

“LP!” Huey skidded to his knees at his side. “Thank goodness, you scared us. Are you okay?”

“Dewey?” Was all he had the breath to say.

“It’s okay. We got him out.”

Launchpad whimpered and let his head drop back against his arms.

The pebbles crunched around him as the rest of his Woodchucks caught up with Huey. Launchpad felt small hands squeeze his arms and press against his back.

“Don’t worry, buddy,” said Huey. “Violet and I have everything under control. She’s called for help, and… all you gotta do is catch your breath.”

Chapter 5

[the-pale-goddess]

The Talk - Ethan Ramsey x MC (Tiffany Addams)

And I’ve got nothing left to lose, besides you

I’ve already lost you once, what more could you do?

Warnings: a few curse words, a bottle of wine, just a mere mention of some adult themes? nothing filthy this time – what happened to me???

Author’s note: This fic is the second part of We’ll Talk About It Later two shot based on OH2, Ch 8+9 > the first part: Breaking The Habit (NS*FW)

It’s been an emotional rollercoaster, but... the talk™ is finally here. I’ve put so much work into this and I don’t think I’d ever be satisfied with the result so...I’m just posting the last version and never reading it again lol  

Taglist - none of the tags worked last time, so I’ll post the taglist separately in a reblog

_____

We'll talk about it later.

Tiffany's mind was racing at a speed she couldn't control. She stared out the window the whole ride from her apartment to Ethan's, stealing only occasional glances in his direction. They didn't talk much in the car and she was grateful he didn't push the small talk through. The young doctor was reluctant to burst the bubble prematurely and this soothing silence proved to be a source of cold comfort.

Everything seemed so volatile...She needed them to be real now more than ever. But the fear of another heartbreak was eating her alive. Sure, there's been an evident shift in his behavior. As the walls of his stern professionalism have been gradually crumbling down, the list of their unethical pursuits kept on growing – he let her back in, he confided in her, he was showing her affection, he kissed her twice, he comforted her, he fucked her brains out just a moment ago in his office...But he never said he changed his mind about the nature of their relationship. We'll talk about it later. And later was finally coming their way.

„So...Your friends weren't home?” Ethan was the one to break the silence and Tiffany's stomach jumped.

„Yeah, Sienna & Elijah are doing the night rounds. Jackie's probably out & about. I'm not sure about Aurora.” She tried to keep her thoughts in check by recognizing the neighborhood. They must've been just a few minutes away from his apartment.

„What about Lahela?” Tiffany cocked her brow and looked at him with arms folded across her chest.

„What about him?” Her giggle received a reproving side-eye.

„He's not living with you?” Ethan's hidden agenda behind this question was blatant and made Tiffany laugh even harder.

„No. He's just always around, you know, as a part of the gang. Just like...” Her voice suddenly cracked and she swallowed loud before finishing the sentence. „Kyra.”

Ethan's hand slipped on her knee, giving it a comforting squeeze as they were driving into the underground parking in his building. He parked in his spot and turned the engine off.

„Tiffany...” He took her hand in his, their fingers entwined tightly. They shifted in their seats to face one another. There was something different about his smile, something warmer than what she was used to. „Do you remember your first weeks at Edenbrook?”

„How could I ever forget?”

„I've made the beginning of your internship truly horrible, haven't I?” The roughness of his fingers far removed from the gentle touch of his thumb against her silken skin.

„Well...I wouldn't say it was that horrible. But I have to admit you were extremely demanding and harsh. Not to mention you had a real mean streak.”

„I was an asshole, Tiffany. Let's face it.” She dropped her jaw in surprise, but didn't oppose. „I played on your emotions and pushed you to your limits.”

„You wanted me to be the best doctor I could be, I...”

„You had the potential to be the best even without my supervision. Besides, my motives are not the case here.” He interrupted her with a shake of his head. „The point is...I pushed you hard. And you always pushed back. You have a habit of finding a way through all the mud and the dirt. Everything you've experienced only made you stronger and prepared you for the worst. You can do anything, Rookie.”

„Ethan...” She smiled at him with teary eyes and leaned closer.

„I suppose it's not much of a comfort when your friend is dying and you're more than aware of the grim prognosis...But we'll do whatever it takes to save Kyra. And you'll be the strongest support by her side.”

„Didn't we establish earlier that the idea is to stop me from crying, not make me all weepy again?” They shared a laugh while Tiffany tried to keep her tears at bay.

„We did. I just thought you needed a reminder of how powerful you are.” Without a warning, he captured her lips in a sweet, long kiss. Her heart was ready to jump out of her chest.

„I feel reminded. Your mission was a howling success, Doctor.” She muttered between a few quick pecks on the lips.

„Have you seriously considered a different outcome?” His scoff earned a roll of her eyes.

„Oh, boy...I suppose your ego will be joining us at the dinner?”

„My ego will cook the dinner. Quit complaining, let's go upstairs.” She gave him that look before they finally got out of the car. The you're fucking unbelievable look, the one that always gave him an unhealthy sense of pride. Truth be told, he was justifiably proud of himself this time – shutting Tiffany Addams up is quite an accomplishment.

***

„Jenner's in Providence again?” Tiffany asked while taking her heels off. A sigh of relief escaped her mouth when her bare feet touched the cold marble floor.

„Yes. My father's babysitting him.” With a simple hand gesture Ethan invited her to follow him further inside. He watched her walk by his side in a skintight jacket dress. He noticed the change in her clothing back in the car, but it was impossible to admire it in the dim glow of the streetlamps. He had to catch up.

„I miss this fella and his cute little paws.” She pouted with disappointment as they moved towards the kitchen.

„Don't worry, he'll be back next week.” Tiffany flushed under Ethan's intense gaze. The unspoken promise of whatever could happen next startled them both.

„Is that an invitation?” She leaned on the counter trying not to show how nervous she was. But Ethan looked right through her. He took a step forward, approaching her with a similar trepidation, and twirled a strand of her hair around his finger.

„It is. Mind that Jenner tends to extend his walks – you'll need a pair of comfortable shoes for that.”

„Noted. I'll be ready.” She nodded, cursing herself as a reminder to stay stane. But it was already too late, she was under his spell.

„I need a shower before we start demolishing my kitchen.” Ethan looked her up and down, his eyes were trailing over her curves while his thoughts tormented him with the vivid memory of the silky skin underneath her clothes. „Would you...like to join me?”

Tiffany hesitated with the answer. A part of her demanded immediate answers, the other urged her to throw herself into his arms. She bit her lip so hard she probably bruised it, if Ethan's teeth haven't already done that before.

„As tempting as it sounds...If I'd choose to shower with you we wouldn't be able to keep our hands off each other.” She returned the hungry look and smiled like a wicked witch. „And I came here for that talk you owe me.”

„You're right.” Tiffany could sense the heightened tension in Ethan's voice, no matter how much he tried to hide it. „First things first.”

„First things first.” She repeated after him. „Besides, I freshened up real quick in my apartment. I can actually play the assistant chef while you're showering.”

„Not a bad idea. We're having salmon with tomato sauce.” He moved across the kitchen to get the ingredients. „It's the kind of comfort food that doesn't require much time and energy.”

„I really like the sound of that. Just boss me around, Chef Ramsey.” Tiffany winked at him with a teasing smile, unintentionally testing his patience. He shook his head undefeated, the iconic smirk playing back on his face, his fragile composure still in place.

„You can start with squashing these tomatoes.” He put a bowl of ripe cherry tomatoes in front of her, soon joined by a bulb of fresh young garlic. „And then slice the garlic nice and thin. You'll find all the equipment you need in the drawers on your left.”

„Got it! Just don't take too long.” She waved at Ethan's back while checking the nearest drawer in search of a proper knife and a cutting board.

After gathering all the necessities, she washed the tomatoes and chopped them in halves. When she finished slicing the bulb of garlic into thin wedges, she instinctively moved to the liquor cabinet and started browsing through an impressive collection of expensive wines, allowing herself to pick their poison for tonight.

The search was interrupted by Ethan's footsteps. Tiffany strolled back to reality, experiencing another surge of undeclared anxiety. She glanced at him over her shoulder and the sight had her taken aback.

„Ethan Ramsey in a plain t-shirt and sweatpants? My, oh my...You took the sleepover joke way too seriously.” She hid behind a soft giggle, hoping it would relieve some of the tension.

„You don't think that I move around my house in a suit, do you?” The amused grimace on her face made him chuckle. „Please, don't answer that.”

„Sorry. I didn't mean to make fun of you. I just...” Her eyes scanned his body, admiring the way the tight white shirt fit over his defined chest. „Didn't really expect you to be serving this kind of look.”

„Well.” His hand flicked through his damp hair. „I intend to serve you dinner.”

„Then what are we waiting for?” Tiffany grinned at his response and Ethan shook his head with a slight discomfiture as he guided her back to the kitchen. She took one of the bottles and quickly followed him.

„Peregrine is an excellent choice.” Ethan pointed at the red Burgundy cradled in her arms. She fixed him with a meaningful look and put the bottle on the table, waiting for him to bring the corkscrew and two glasses.

„Yeah, I'm a big fan of high-class red wine.” He snorted with laughter while opening the bottle.

„You picked the one with the funniest name, am I right?” Tiffany bit her bottom lip and laughed along as she walked up behind him, sniffing at the fresh scent of his musky cologne mixed with the shower gel.

„What gave me away?” Her eyes were fixed on the burgundy liquor slowly filling the glass. In spite of the seemingly laid-back atmosphere, neither of them could shake the pervasive tension off.

„Let's just say I'm familiar with your drinking habits.” He offered her a full glass and a cheeky smile, and she readily accepted both, brushing his finger ever so slightly when she reached for her drink. Their eyes immediately locked.

„I can't even disagree with you on that. Would you like to propose a toast?”

They kept on staring at each other for a long while, the maddening silence wrapped around them, closing the distance between their bodies.

„To happy endings and new beginnings.” As soon as their glasses clinked, they dipped their lips into the wine, holding the gaze the whole time.

„We should...”

„By all means, yes. The cooking will take about 10 to 15 minutes, so you can make yourself comfortable in the living room.”

„No, I'm coming with you, Chef.” He raised his brows, a knowing smile lit his face up and he nodded in approval.

Tiffany sat on a bar stool in the kitchen, where she had a first-row view at Chef Ramsey in action. He put a drizzle of oil to a hot frying pan and fried the garlic until it was caramelized. Then, he added the tomatoes and cooked the sauce for a few minutes, trying not to distract his attention from the kitchen maneuvers. With a determined effort of will he maintained his focus, barely squinting at Tiffany, as she watched him hypnotized – studying his face and every move he accomplished with mathematical precision.

„You're strangely silent.” He stole a glance at his companion while seasoning the salmon.

„Shh. I'm watching a cooking show.” A dulcet laughter escaped Ethan's mouth and he found himself distracted for one split second when Tiffany sent him the most charming smile.

He put the fillets in another pan and cooked them until the fish was done. After he chopped and stirred fresh mint and dill through the sauce, he dished up the salmon fillets and served them with a generous spread of the sauce and a side of Greek salad.

The Chef Ramsey Special lived up to Tiffany's expectations and she eagerly praised Ethan's cooking skills during the dinner. They managed to forget about the whole purpose of the visit for the time being, chatting about everything and nothing in particular. As quickly as they finished the first glass of wine after the meal, the odd vexation sneaked up on them again.

„Shall we move somewhere comfortable?” Ethan's offer was greeted with a quiet acceptance. Tiffany strolled to the living room and curled up on the couch. Ethan refilled their glasses and joined her, keeping the safe distance between them. His emotions rapidly skipped from vaguely calm to a nervous wreck. He took a massive gulp of wine in order to gather his courage and looked over the room.

„So...”

„We're really doing this.” Tiffany crooned.

„I suppose we are...” He took a deep breath, thinking of a proper way to verbalize his thoughts.

„I had a really long talk with my dad after you've left the other night. It made me realize what a timorous fool I've been.” He downed his Pinot Noir, holding the glass with shaky fingers.

„That's one way to put it.” She took a sip of her wine, leaning on the big pillow.

„A delusional jackass. A blind asshole...” He continued, his voice was dripping with absolute contempt.

„I think I got the gist, Ethan.” She covered his hand with hers. A rueful smile spread across his face as his thumb brushed her skin.

„Tiffany, I can't even begin to apologize for all the hurt I've caused.” He muttered, deeply ashamed.

„You tore my heart apart. I won't lie about that. All these nights I've been wondering where did I go wrong. I've tried to explain to myself which part of me was so undeserving...” She trailed off, her gaze focused on her half-empty glass of wine. The anguish of rejection was stamped on Tiffany's mind. She felt a stabbing pain, much like an old wound just reopened in her chest. The depth of this feeling was so overwhelming, it made her sick and she found herself near to tears.

„Tiffany.” Ethan squeezed her hand tight, his expression dead serious. „It was never about you.”

„I've realized that soon enough. It was always about you, Ethan. And I really thought I could fix you.”

„But you did fix me.” Her eyes met his again, their gaze reflecting the overflowing wave of emotions that filled the room. „I'm sorry it took me so long to acknowledge all the effort and hope you've put into me. You've fought for me tirelessly even when I felt like giving up on myself.”

„I'd never give up on you, even if it was the right thing to do.” She smiled through fresh tears cascading down her cheeks. Ethan's thumb immediately came to the rescue, wiping them away with a gentle stroke and a reassuring smile.

„Does that mean you accept my apology?” Tiffany bobbed her head in answer and sniffled quietly. Ethan drew closer to her, sighing softly with relief when she allowed their knees to touch and leaned into him.

„It's very rare that I'm wrong...But I'm willing to admit when I am. And I was hopelessly wrong about pushing you away, Tiffany.”

She regarded his features thoughtfully without saying a word. Once he realized it's a subtle sign that she's waiting for him to elaborate on the subject, he pinched the bridge of his nose and pressed ahead with his discourse.

„I always considered love to be a load of bollocks. I never thought it was on the cards for me. Then I met you and I knew right from the start that you will turn my world upside down.” The words stuck in his throat for a second. Her fingers entwined with his, sending an encouraging shiver down his spine as he continued. „I was such an adamant coward, too scared to admit that I'm losing my heart to you. I fooled myself into thinking that running away will solve everything.”

„But it didn't solve anything, did it? The reset button didn't work.”

„I don't remember psychology major on your resume, Rookie.” The corners of his mouth formed a cheeky grin.

„I can't blame you, it was listed as a hobby.” She shrugged her shoulders with a triumphant smile. Ethan studied her face in silence for a moment, as if he was looking for the missing piece of the puzzle.

„That's right, it didn't.” He finally affirmed. „I've been living in denial, making excuses I didn't even believe myself. But it ends now. I'm coming clean. ”

Tiffany freezed, feeling panic-stricken all of a sudden. It was happening. She wrote the script down in her mind, rehearsed it about a thousand times and waited patiently until that very moment to watch it unfold. It was really happening. Deep in her heart she knew what he was going to say. He didn't have to actually say it. And yet, it was crucial that he did.

Ethan imagined he'd be composed. He prepared himself to remain calm. He had it all planned, calculated and revised. The world-beating diagnostician failed to add one variable to his equation, though – the presence of the woman he's in love with. The way her wet emerald eyes penetrated his every thought, or how quickly her unstable breathing caused his limbs to shake. But this was the moment. The ultimate make-or-break decision.

The air suddenly brimmed over with bullish expectations. They gazed into each other's eyes, anxiously anticipating what was about to happen. Ethan inhaled sharply before speaking up, trying not to let the overpowering variety of emotions affect the outcome of the talk.

„I want you. I want to...Be with you.” He reached for her hand again and placed a kiss on her palm, studying the thunderstuck expression on her face. „I want to make us work properly this time. If you would have me back I promise I won't let you down.”

Tiffany freezed up completely as she stared at him speechless for what felt like forever. Ethan held her hand tight, stamping one of his feet impatiently in the hope of an immediate response.

Nothing could possibly prepare her for this. His last words triggered something hidden in Tiffany's memory. Her mind flashed back to the first day of her internship, and that distant thought brought an arcane smile to her lips.

„You can see the future?” When she finally found her tongue, Ethan's jaw dropped on the floor. Those were his words. A quick recollection of their conversation during the very first day of Tiffany's internship splashed across his mind.

„I guess I deserved that.” He chuckled lightly and rubbed his chin. Tiffany's infectious giggle was short-lived as her expression turned into an unsolvable riddle. She looked him deep in the eye, still holding his other hand.

„I can't have you back, Ethan.”

Ethan stopped breathing for a second and his body broke out in cold sweat. He didn't understand. Everything was going according to the plan...Has he misjudged her intentions? Could they really be at cross purposes?

„I can't have you back...Because you've never actually left.” Tiffany closed the distance between them, lowering her voice to a soft whisper. „You're the blood in my veins.”

Time stopped the moment they exchanged looks, allowing the meaning of their confessions to wash over them. They marvelled at each other with a beam of happiness, never breaking the gaze.

„Don't let me down, Ethan.” His face lit up with the most radiant smile she's ever seen on him and it was the only answer she needed.

„I'm never making this mistake again. I've learned my lesson.” He grabbed her by the sides and with one swift movement placed her on top of his legs. His hand traveled all the way up to cup her cheek, while she hooked her arms around his neck and squeezed him in a crushing hug.

„I'll be the judge of that.” Tiffany gently bumped her nose against his and licked her lips. Before she could blink, Ethan's lips crashed into hers with tremendous ardour. The kiss tasted like dry red wine and the longed-for sweet victory. It was urgent and deep.

And it still wasn’t enough.

[twentyghosts]

My Science Boyfriends Mundane AU Masterlist

I have had some folks kindly ask if I plan to write another mundane AU after finishing Never A Breath You Can Afford To Waste, and the answer is: yeah, probably, eventually? Every time I finish writing one of these things I figure it will probably be my last, because how much more could I possibly have to say about the topic of: “What if these characters we know as superheroes were in love but didn’t have to literally save the world and could just have a normal job or whatever?” 

And then every time, a small mouse inside my brain whispers some new idea to me and I end up writing another one. But, in the meantime, here are all the ones I’ve written (since I think it can be hard to dig them out of my AO3 page since there are so many one-shots between the longer stories.)

These all have Bruce Banner/Tony Stark as the primary ship. Perhaps you will enjoy them while I wait for the small mouse inside my brain to start whispering, “Science Boyfriends, but hear me out, what if this time they’re insurance adjusters?” Or whatever. Check the AO3 links for full tags/warnings for each one.

Never A Breath You Can Afford To Waste (professor AU, 102K words) (featuring several lovely illustrations!) After abruptly trying to close down Stark Industries' weapons division, Tony Stark has been ousted as CEO by the company's board of directors and is attempting to cool his heels and rehabilitate his image with a cushy one-year appointment as a guest lecturer in engineering at Shield University. Dr. Bruce Banner also has a one-year appointment at Shield, but his is a lowly adjunct instructor position that doesn't pay enough to meet the high cost of living in Southern California. Bruce is trying desperately to keep anyone from finding out he's living in his car, while Tony is desperately trying to ask Bruce out and can't figure out why he won't accept. But when Bruce gets pneumonia, things change. Bruce has to trust Tony with his secret, Tony has to play nursemaid, and they both have to learn how to take care of each other—and still get their final grades turned in on time.

By Any Other Name (high school student AU/flower shop AU, 12K words) Bruce Banner has a hard enough time keeping his head above water between all of his afterschool jobs and the demanding coursework at Shield Academy, the prestigious boarding school he attends on scholarship. He doesn't have time to spearhead a Valentine's Day flower sale fundraiser, and he definitely doesn't have time to date Tony Stark, no matter what his best friend Nat and her girlfriend Pepper keep telling him.

Snow Falls, Love Rises (Hallmark Channel holiday movie AU, 35K words) Tony Stark's ambitious new plan to convert all of his factories to manufacture solar panels and other green energy technologies causes some concern in the small town of Snow Falls, Ohio: the home of the StarKids toy factory. Despite the toy factory's popularity, the town's Green Party mayor, Bruce Banner, actually supports the solar panel initiative. However, Bruce's deputy mayor Darcy Lewis goes behind his back to invite Tony to be the grand marshal of the town's annual Winter Joy Toy Parade, in an attempt to convince Tony to preserve the toy factory. Tony accepts, secretly hoping to use the event as an opportunity to reconnect with Bruce. Unbeknownst to the citizens of Snow Falls, Bruce and Tony haven't spoken to each other since their boarding school romance came to an abrupt end. Can their love be rekindled, or is it as dead as a string of vintage Christmas tree lights?

Is This Heaven? No, It’s Brooklyn (Good Omens fusion AU, 60K words) cowritten with @godlessondheimite After supervising the wrong child for 11 years, Crowley and Aziraphale discover that the Antichrist is actually in Brooklyn, and they have one month to avert the Apocalypse. Although they still need to figure out a few minor details (like how to stop him, and what name he's using), they book an Airbnb and head across the pond. Meanwhile, Bruce Banner, the last living descendant of Agnes Nutter, is also figuring things out, like how can he best answer his curious mentee, Adam Young’s, many questions about the planet? Why couldn't his ancestor's prophecies have been less nice and more coherent? What role will Stark Industries play in causing the end of the world? If he took down his Airbnb listing months ago, how did two strange Englishmen rent it out? And is he really destined to live the rest of his life with the asshole who plowed him over with a Bentley? The combined forces of science, religion, and coincidences--plus the hyper-competent Pepper Potts--might just be enough to avert the Apocalypse and give everyone a happy ending.

Snap Decisions (high school academic decathlon coach AU, 52K words) High school physics teacher Bruce Banner is feeling adrift after he returns from two years in the Peace Corps and takes a new job as the coach of Infinite Horizons Academy's academic decathlon team. Their rival team, Midtown School of Science and Technology, also acquires a new coach when stressed-out CEO Tony Stark finds himself in need of some community service hours. Despite their schools' rivalry, the two coaches become friendly with one another. When New York's power-hungry Schools Chancellor Thanos abruptly closes half of the city's public schools, the two teams are forced to merge. As things begin to crumble around them, Bruce and Tony get a little help from their students in their struggle to save their schools--and each other.

Sorry If You’re Starstruck (Hollywood AU, 60K words) While recovering from an on-set injury (and the resultant problem with painkillers), billionaire playboy genius filmmaker Tony Stark sets his eyes on his next project--an adaptation of the Gamma Garcia books, a widely beloved young adult sci-fi series. The books' notoriously reclusive author, Bruce Banner, rejects all film offers, but he reluctantly accepts Tony's friendship. Their bond deepens into something more, even as personal and professional setbacks threaten their chance at a Hollywood happy ending. 

Judging By The Cover (Library AU, 22K words) (featuring very cool collaged illustrations by @allofthefeelings for @wipbigbang!) Bruce Banner is a generally mild-mannered reference librarian at Malibu Public Library, but he loses his cool when local billionaire philanthropist Tony Stark proposes revitalizing the library's technology, at the cost of its collection of print books. Bruce tries his best to persuade Tony to preserve the library, but accidentally ends up dating him. Despite moral support from his friends and coworkers Darcy, Jane, and Natasha, Bruce isn't quite sure if he's cut out to share his life with Tony Stark on either a personal or professional level. Will children's librarian Thor's malevolent brother Loki ruin the summer reading club? Will the paparazzi ever leave Bruce and Tony alone--and more importantly, will Bruce and Tony ever see eye to eye on the subject of e-readers? And when is everyone going to stop asking Bruce for Fifty Shades of Grey?

[chelseaheskett]

5:22PM, THURSDAY. JANUARY 30TH, 2020.

She hated the idea of Elliot having to do more work after a full day at the office, preparing to take his first solo case to court—but the box for Vanessa’s new bed frame, leaned against the wall in the twins room, was starting to create a safety hazard. Late in the week, when he got home from work, Chelsea greeted him with a kiss and a proposition. The babies were napping in the playpen downstairs, so it gave them the perfect window of opportunity to finally set it up. Well... Chelsea was there for moral support. Verbal encouragement! She was there to supervise. She couldn’t reach down and hand him any of his tools, or anything, so she relaxed into the rocking chair in the corner of the bedroom, sipping on a cool glass of lemonade. “Where are the coveralls!?” She whined when he came into the room and settled onto the floor. Much to her dismay, Elliot had stripped down to a loose white tank top and sweat pants. Chelsea wasn’t happy about it! No matter how good he looked otherwise! Sex fantasies aside, though, they had a job to do. 

Halfway through, when the bottom of the bed frame was all screwed together, Elliot got the best of her. She’d been distracting him the entire time with her running commentary: constantly telling him how good he looked, how much she loved him, how hot this whole thing was making her feel. She got down on the floor under the guise of offering him some assistance, but really it was just an excuse to get close and touch him. His skin was shiny with sweat, his hair was falling all over his face. The touching started out semi innocent. A hand on his back, at the base of his neck, on his bicep. Brushing the hair off his forehead. Kissing him on the cheek, just because she could. Trailing her mouth down to his throat, and kissing his sweet spot until he squirmed. Her hands started to stray, too, until Elliot dropped the screwdriver and construction on the bed momentarily halted. 

Chelsea had to let him finish putting the bed frame together all by his lonesome. A baby monitor went off a few minutes post-orgasm, and Chelsea went and tended to the kids with wobbly legs walking down the stairs. Fed them and started on dinner for her and Elliot while he worked. Took Vanessa to unveil her big girl bed after bath time. She climbed straight over the railing, instead of crawling through the appropriate opening, and squealed. Chelsea scoffed to hide her laughter. “Puppy dog!” Vanessa pointed to one printed on her bed sheets. She’d been a huge help in picking them out when they went shopping the previous weekend. Elliot had to tuck her in. Like Jack’s bed, it was too low to the ground for Chelsea and her pregnant belly. She was getting so big, thirty-two weeks along now, that it was hard to even hold Isaac, and lift him into his crib. Her little boy seemed happy in his cot. Didn’t care too much about Vanessa’s new bed, thank God. Chelsea cuddled him and said goodnight.

Somehow, but somehow not surprising, Elliot was strong enough to move Vanessa’s old crib into their bedroom all by himself. Chelsea kept forgetting about it, and practically tripped over it multiple times in the middle of the night on her way to the toilet. The baby was constantly putting hard pressure on her bladder, and flaring up bursts of pain in her abdomen on and off all night. Elliot must’ve fallen asleep before she did, for once. She felt utterly exhausted and like she’d gotten no sleep whatsoever by the time morning came and Elliot kissed her goodbye, like always, before leaving for work. “Mornin’.” Chelsea mumbled, stretching her arms out. Her bed hair was sticking up in all angles and he smoothed some of it down and out of her face. “Oh, I bet Isaac loved that.” She smiled, sleepy. Elliot kissed her temple and his lips lingered. Chelsea whinged and reached for his tie to pull him back into bed. He was running late. Right! He had court for his case today! “Okay, go, go! Good luck, honey. Not that you need it!” Tomorrow was the weekend—they could cuddle in bed as much as they wanted to then. She adjusted his tie with one eye open. “Okay, baby.” Every other Friday was always when custody week started with Jenny. Chelsea would just have to stack all the babies in the car and pick her up from school later on in the day. Elliot kissed her on the mouth this time. Chelsea sighed into it. “I love you, too! Bye, gorgeous!” She replied, calling out when the warmth of his body was gone and she could hear the bedroom door lightly close behind him. 

12:59PM, FRIDAY. JANUARY 31ST, 2020.

The day was meant to be uneventful. She hadn’t been to the grocery store in awhile, because she absolutely refused to shove all three toddlers into a single shopping cart. A week without her Mom’s help at home and being in constant pain because of the baby was really starting to suck. Donna had been trying to catch up all week, so they could finally talk about the elephant in the room, but Chelsea always had an excuse. Today, she thought she might use it to her advantage. Get it over and done with and get something out of it. She called her phone early morning and Christian answered it. Chelsea tried not to give her emotions away, and politely asked if she could speak to her Mom. Didn’t trade any more niceties, didn’t do small talk. When her Mom got on the other end of the phone, Chelsea simply asked if she could look after the kids for an hour while she went food shopping, and suggested they finally sit down and talk when she got home. Her Mom was eager. Agreed, and didn’t mention the fact that Christian was there, at her house, answering her phone. Disgusting. 

Chelsea shot Elliot through a message, knowing it’d probably take a while to get a response when he had court. She got a reply a little while later, but by that point her phone was in her back pocket, and she was stuck in the kitchen arguing with her Mom. “I’m sorry, but I don’t want him anywhere near me or my family! Period!” Chelsea spun around, dropping the dishes from lunch into the sink. “You know what, Mom? Do whatever the hell you want! You’ve obviously made up your mind if he’s sleeping over at your house.” Chelsea pulled a face, clearly repulsed. 

“Watch how you talk to me, Chelsea.” Donna retorted, like she was still a little girl and not a full grown ass adult. Sure, maybe Chelsea was acting a little bit like a brat, or a child throwing a tantrum, but... this wasn’t okay! How was she meant to just sit still and take this? She refused to accept this. Nope. It wasn’t happening. 

“What do you want me to say, Mom? Do you want me to just lie and say that I’m happy for you? Because I’m not! I’m not happy! I’m fucking furious!” Chelsea cussed. Ignored the literal swear jar, half-stuffed with dollar bills, only a small distance away from her on the kitchen counter. “And the fact that you can’t understand why makes it even worse!” Chelsea’s voice was going hoarse. “Put yourself in my shoes for... for just a second, okay? Your boyfriend assaulted me, he assaulted my husband—”

Donna cut her off. “I know that! I know! I’m not completely blinded by love that—”

“Love?” It knocked the wind out of her entire body. Chelsea squinted at her mother. “This has to be some sort of sick, twisted joke! How can you love him after what he did to me? I’m your child, for God’s sake!” The tears prickled her eyes. 

Her mother took a step forward, almost pleading with her. Chelsea was grateful that they had the kitchen island keeping them apart. “People make mistakes, honey—”

“What, like Elliot?” Chelsea spat, recounting their argument last week. “You might be all about forgiveness, Mom, but trust me when I say that I will never forgive you for throwing that in my face.” She tried her best to keep her voice even and strong. Spoke with conviction.

“You never even let me finish what I was trying to say last week! Stop being so stubborn and listen to me! Please!” 

“No, you listen! As long as you’re seeing Christian, I don’t wanna see you. You can come here, you can see the kids, because they love you and they miss you, but... but that’s it. I’ll be nice, I’ll be polite, but you and me? We don’t have a relationship anymore. I’m done!”

Donna started crying before Chelsea did. “Chels, please—”

“Whatever, I... I’m leaving. I’m going to the store. I can’t even look at you right now.” Chelsea grabbed a tea towel and wiped the soap off her hands. Dramatically threw it onto the counter and started off to leave the room.

“Don’t you dare walk out on me, Chelsea Grace!”

“Yeah? Watch me.” She called over her shoulder. Hastily grabbed her purse and keys from the table in the entryway and slammed the front door behind her. It was loud enough to possibly wake up one or all of the babies from their afternoon nap, but that was her Mom’s problem now. Chelsea waddled to her car, hands gripping her swollen stomach, and slammed that door open and closed, too. Turned the A/C on full blast, to give herself some air. Get her breathing back under control. She drove around the corner from the house to sit and park the car there. Just until she could calm down long enough to make the short drive to the grocery store. 

After a few minutes of meditative breathing, and stroking her stomach, Chelsea’s phone buzzed with a message. She was surprised when MY BABY 💞 💖💕 flashed on the screen; fully expecting her mother to be bombarding her with notifications after their argument. Chelsea opened the text, quickly scanned over the message. She was too keyed up to reply. Locked her phone and dropped it into her cup holder, leaving Elliot unanswered. For now, at least. She shifted gears and started to drive. Blasted the radio, so she didn’t have to think. Repeated eggs, over and over under her breath, so she wouldn’t forget.

Grocery shopping was nice. Distracting. She got a couple cereal boxes of cinnamon toast crunch for Jenny. Filled a cart to the brim with food and fruit and diapers. Got supplies so she could make them enchiladas for dinner. Chelsea’s feet were sore and swollen. She’d only been walking around for half an hour, tops, and she was already exhausted. She arched her back and stretched, feeling achey all over. The baby was misbehaving. She was almost at the checkout with her shopping cart when she remembered eggs. Huffing, she rolled her cart down a couple more aisles until she found them. She reached up to grab a carton and toss it into her cart. 

She felt the pressure build up in her abdomen. It built until she could feel it pop, and then release, and fluid started to trickle down between her thighs. “Shit!” Chelsea cursed. She fumbled and the carton of eggs splattered on the floor, all yolk and eggshells and amniotic fluid. She was wearing a dress, so the water dripped right down her legs and pooled at her feet. Soaked her sneakers. The fluid was blood-tinged, from what she could see past the cracked eggs. “Oh God, oh no.” She gripped the handlebars of the shopping cart, breath accelerating. It was gushing out of her, without any signs of stopping.

“Hey, are you alright?” One of the grocers approached, wearing a uniform and carrying a yellow caution cone, ready to clean up her mess.

Chelsea was hunched over, one hand white-knuckling the bars on the cart and the other cradling her stomach, as if she could hold herself together. As if she had the power to stop this from happening. “I think my—my water just broke, but I... I’m not ready. It’s too early.” Chelsea said, voice shrill, breath ragged. 

The guy looked like he was barely out of high school. His face went a little pale. “I... I’ll...” He stammered. “I’ll call 911.” He pulled a cellphone out of his back pocket. Someone else walked over; another shopper, Chelsea assumed. An older woman. A stranger with kind eyes. She started rubbing her back for some comfort. “Is there anyone I can call for you, darling?” The nice lady asked, pressing circles into her skin. 

“My husband. He’s in court right now, he’s—he’s a defense attorney, I—” Just to clarify, so the woman didn’t get the wrong idea. Chelsea sifted through her purse to retrieve her phone. 

“An ambulance is on the way.” The kid said, still looking alarmed.

Elliot’s number was at the top of her favourites list. Next to her Mom, and Macy, and Caleb, and Amy, and Lola. Chelsea thumbed over his contact info to call him. It went straight to voicemail. “His phone must be off.” Chelsea cried, raking a hand through her hair. She tried again, for good measure. And again. And again. Nothing. “I’m only thirty-two weeks along, I can’t—I can’t be doing this.” The lady hushed her, told her to breathe, guided her through it. Chelsea was trying her hardest not to keep track of the amount of blood in the fluid on the floor. The grocer left and came back with another caution sign. People around them stared, looked concerned. Tears were streaming down her face, and fluid was still dripping down her legs. “Please, God.” Chelsea prayed through a sob. 

Her first contraction came when the paramedics loaded her up into the back of the ambulance. She gritted her teeth and cried out in agony. Fisted the sheet on the gurney. “Is he gonna be okay? It’s too early. It’s too early!” Chelsea rushed through asking when the pain finally passed. One of the paramedics stayed in the back with her, hooking her up to machines and checking her vitals, while the other one drove. No sirens, Chelsea noticed. The paramedic reassured her. Asked her some questions: if this was her first pregnancy, if she’d ever had complications like this before. Asked about the gestational diabetes. Asked if they could call someone else for her, since Elliot still wasn’t answering his phone. The paramedic took hold of Chelsea’s phone and dialled through to her Mom. 

The woman quickly explained the situation to Donna over the phone. Chelsea could hear Isaac crying in the background, even with the receiver covered. After a minute, the paramedic put the phone on loud speaker. “Chelsea, honey, are you okay? What can I do?” 

“I need... I need you to get a hold of Elliot. Please. I don’t know how, I just...” Chelsea’s mouth was dry. “He’s in court, he’s with Macy. Call Amy, or something, I don’t know. Get word to him somehow, please. Please.” She was still panicked. “I can’t do this! Not now.” She cried some more. “Mom, I’m scared.” 

“I know, honey. I know. It’s going to be okay. Let me go so I can get in touch with him, or someone at the courthouse. You and bub are gonna be fine, okay?” Chelsea nodded, even if her mother couldn’t see it. “I’ll see you soon, hon.” Donna hung up. Chelsea didn’t get a chance to say anything else. Not a goodbye, nothing. She shoved her phone back into her bag. Braced herself for her next contraction.

They stuck her into a birthing suite as soon as they arrived at the hospital. A nurse helped her out of her wet clothes and got her into a hospital gown. Slowly walked her over to the bed and got her to sit down, propped up by some pillows. Chelsea kept her phone close, squeezed inside her palm in case Elliot called. Or her Mom. The OB/GYN on call came in to examine her. Left Chelsea crying for a minute or two to discuss something with a nurse or a midwife or whoever holding a tablet in the corner of the room. “She was here, what? Christmas Eve? Who was on that night? They should’ve picked this up.” The doctor said, hushed and frustrated. “Oh, Johnson? Figures.” Chelsea pretended like she wasn’t listening in on their conversation, but a spike in her heart monitor gave her away. The doctor, Dr. Hernandez, typed some notes onto the tablet before coming back over to sit between Chelsea’s legs. 

“So, Chelsea, you’ve got what’s called an incompetent cervix. Or cervical insufficiency—not that it sounds much better, as a term, but... what that means is that your cervix has already begun to shorten... dilate pre-term.” Dr. Hernandez said, sympathy showing on her face as she explained. Chelsea whimpered. Scrunched up her face, completely confused and trying to control her reactions to the pain she was feeling. “Basically your cervix isn’t strong enough to withstand the weight of the baby. Most likely brought on by the fact that your previous pregnancy was carrying twins.” She continued. “And even though you’re only thirty-two weeks along, he’s a big boy. Top percentile, I saw in your notes.” She smiled, as if this was meant to be comforting. “So it makes sense that this has happened. I’m sorry this wasn’t picked up on sooner. You’ve been regularly attending all of your appointments?”

Chelsea nodded around a sob. “Can you—can you fix it?” She pleaded.

“Normally, if detected early, yes. But with your membranes already having been ruptured—with your water already broken, it’s not safe. There’s risk of infection for you and the baby if we don’t get him out soon. And you’re already dilated a couple centimetres. So we’ll monitor you for the next couple of hours and see how things progress.” 

Chelsea’s breathing was laboured. “No, I can’t. I can’t. I can’t have this baby now. I can’t.” She shook her head. “I can’t do this. I can’t—I need my husband. I can’t do this without him. I need him here.” She rambled through her tears, frantic. “I don’t wanna do this.” Like she had any other choice, at this point. 

“You’re still a few hours off, in my opinion. He should get here before the baby comes.” The doctor reassured her. Lightly patted her forearm. “You won’t be alone. I’ll be here every step of the way.” Chelsea cried harder, because it wasn’t the same. Her Mom had been there for Jack. Her Mom and Elliot had been there for the twins. Now she was virtually alone. No family, no support. She’d practically disowned her mother a couple of hours ago, anyway! Chelsea was starting to hiccup, she was crying so heavily. “What’s your pain level at?” Dr. Hernandez asked. Chelsea simply shrugged, trying her best to calm herself down. “You’re highly distressed right now, Chelsea. I’m going to suggest that I give you a sedative, and something else to numb some of the labour pains. Is that okay?” Chelsea nodded, head dipped back into the pillows, eyes closed. Willing this not to happen, willing it all to be over.

Exhaustion set in. Everything felt fuzzy, because of the drugs. She kept her phone balanced on her chest, waiting for some sort of update from someone. Her Mom, or Elliot, or anybody. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been waiting. How many contractions she’d cried through, all on her own. She was all alone. Her head swimming, like she was drunk. She had to fight to keep her eyes open. The doctor hadn’t been back in awhile. Chelsea had to wonder if anybody, hospital staff or not, would come to check up on her. If anybody cared, at this point. She felt about ready to fade away. 

One of the monitors started rapidly beeping. Chelsea struggled to lift her head off her pillow in time for one of the nurses to run in. “Code pink!” She shouted out into the hallway. Pushed a button on the wall, and the speakers overhead repeated her phrase: CODE PINK, BED 13. CODE PINK.

“What’s happening?” Chelsea mumbled. Tried to prop herself up on her elbows, but the nurse forced her back down. Adjusted the gurney so it was flat, so Chelsea was completely lying down. Pulled the railings up, ready for transport. A team of doctors rushed into the room. She hadn’t seen any of them before. They started wheeling her out of the birthing suite. Dr. Hernandez was suddenly there by Chelsea’s side, hands gripping around the bed railing to help push her to their next destination.

“Okay, Chelsea. The baby’s heart rate dropped dangerously low, so we’re taking you in for an emergency c-section now. We’re gonna get this little guy out, safe and happy. Okay? Do you understand?” She was too doped up on drugs to properly respond. Kind of nodded. Felt too numb and exhausted to fully understand the weight of what the doctor was saying. Dangerously low, thirty-two weeks along, emergency c-section. Safe and happy. The baby would be safe and happy. Everything would be okay. Okay. She understood. “We’re gonna put you under general anaesthesia. We need to hurry—to make sure the baby is doing okay.” The doctor continued to explain.

It happened pretty fast once they got inside the operating room. They transferred her from the bed onto the table. Roped her off from the chest down, so she couldn’t see anything. The anaesthesiologist got her mask ready, holding it by her face. Dr. Hernandez paid her a visit one final time. “You ready to meet your son?” She asked, hopeful and optimistic. 

“His name is Luca.” Chelsea said, groggy. “Luca Elliot.”

They made her count. Count down to blacking out, with the mask finally covering her face. Chelsea didn’t want to count. For once, she didn’t. Her eyes fluttered shut, trying to fight it. Still trying to stop this from happening. Wanting it to be Elliot’s face hovering over her, not some nameless doctor. Not anybody else. No numbers, only Elliot. In her daze, she tried to picture him. The lines around his mouth and his eyes when he smiled. Only Elliot. Chelsea sucked in her last breath, until everything faded and disappeared around her. Until everything emptied out and there was nothing but darkness. 

“Mr. Holt.” The doctor called out, grabbing Elliot’s attention. Still in her scrubs. Now that it was all over and done with, she could explain it to him properly. The man stood from his waiting room chair, expectant. Frantic. 

“During the c-section, your wife’s bladder was lacerated—which isn’t something unheard of happening during these types of emergency abdominal procedures. She lost a lot of blood, so we had to keep her under anaesthesia and prolong surgery to make the appropriate repairs. Do a blood transfusion. Her bladder is fixed, but she’ll have to use a foley catheter for a few weeks. They’re wheeling her into recovery now. You should be able to see her in a little while.” Dr. Hernandez smiled, polite and professional. 

Her gaze drifted to, who she assumed was, Chelsea’s mother. They had the same face. The woman was pushing a stroller back and forth in a steady rhythm with her foot. “There was, however, another complication during the reparative surgery. Cardiac issues run in the family?” She remembered what it said on the family medical history in Chelsea’s chart. “Midway through surgery, Chelsea's heart gave out. She flatlined. We lost her for a few moments, but managed to revive her. She’s stable now, thankfully, and we’ll be closely monitoring her and her heart over the coming days. Our best cardiologist is on it.” If that was any comfort. It couldn’t’ve been easy news to digest. It never was.

A nurse walked past and Dr. Hernandez stopped her in her tracks by catching her arm. “Hey, would you please show Mr. Holt here to the NICU?” She asked. Looked at Elliot. “You should be able to see your son, now.” Smiled, again. “I’ll have someone come get you when your wife is out of recovery and ready to have visitors.” The doctor squeezed his arm before turning to leave, ducking back into recovery to tend to his wife. 

[docholligay]

Touch prompt, "after an argument," for Avital

WOW DID I SPEND A BUNCH OF TIME ON THIS ONE. We may argue, i suppose, that it’s a waste of time, given that it’s a third string character in my less popular universe, but I enjoyed myself, so, there is that. I actually like this enough I may add it to my canon! 2,500 words, roughly. Italics are Arabic. 

“You have absolutely no reason to deny me this.” Avital’s eyes burned as she looked across the table at her mother. “You’re being completely obstructive for no reason I can bloody well think of.” 

“I said the matter was closed, Avital.” Pharah looked back down at the chicken on her plate. “You will not go. That, is that.” 

Avital tossed her fork down on her plate. “Ridiculous, you are. Let’s take an accounting. I’m prefect, I have excellent marks, I don’t get into trouble, I am,” she gestured, looking for something, her face turning a bit pink, “INCREDIBLY responsible, Mum! Also, I’ve been on a class trip before! What could possibly be your reasoning? If it’s about the money, I can earn it.” 

“If it were about the money, your uncle would be giving it to you.” Mercy did not look up from her plate. 

She loved her wife, and she loved her daughter, with a power and strength that she couldn’t have possibly realized could come from her. It was never duty, to love them, but always joy. They were both intelligent, strong, capable women, born leaders with steel in their spines. Mercy never worried about either of them simply going along with things, of just following orders. They did not fear any judgment but their own, which was the harshest mistress. She was proud of them. She was in awe of them. 

She absolutely loathed when they fought. 

For it was all true that they were intelligent, strong, and capable, but they were also both so bull-headed and intractable, when they took to an idea, that it might be easier to separate the salt from the sea, than to talk them out of being right. She much preferred when they agreed, for the quiet of it if nothing else. 

Pharah glanced over at Mercy and her helpful statement and shook her head. “I am your mother. “ 

“Totalitarian regime, then? That is literally what your approach is going to be? Really?” Her face was going from pink to red, her jaw beginning to set. “You’re supposed to be a woman of logic, and rationale, and--Mutti, you can’t agree with this.” 

Mercy sighed. “When we were having you, we agreed, if one of us felt very strongly, we would be giving our support. I wanted to raise you Jewishly--” 

“Shutting down any kind of debate on the issue is not raising me Jewishly.” 

“Avi,” Mercy set her hand on Avital’s, “I know it can be hard understanding--”

“No!” Avital pulled her hand away and stood up, pointing her finger at her mother. “I have a right to understand why you think I don’t deserve this! You’re being completely ridiculous, and I deserve a fucking answer! I’m not one of your soldiers who just goes where you want her to go, I’m almost a fucking adult--” 

“Oh, you think you are an adult, that might be true.” 

“Don’t DISMISS me, God,” she stepped back from the table, “ I can’t stand when you do this, this, shut down thing that you think implies strength, but you know what? It only shows the obvious weakness of your position.” 

“Well luckily, this is a totalitarian regime, and dictators don’t need--” 

“Enough!” Mercy cried out, hands folded in her lap. “Please.” 

They both loved Mercy more than they were angry at each other, and so, for a moment, the storm calmed. Avital stepped away from the table. 

“I won’t be doing the tidying tonight.” She pushed in her chair and headed up the stairs to her bedroom without another word, back straight, steps clear. 

Mercy turned to Pharah. “You should be telling her. I know, you have--” 

“Angela.”

“She’s right. You are being unfair, and expecting her to not to wonder.” Mercy set down her fork. “She is a very good daughter, Fareeha. You and I? Are spoiled.” 

Mercy got up from the table, walked into the kitchen, and left Pharah sitting there alone.

___

Avital paced around her bedroom, trying to quell her fury. Anger was not a friend, anger made it hard for a person to focus, to think, to act, and yet, as she thought those things, she heard her mother saying them, which only raised the flame higher. 

She should go stay with Uncle WInston. He would let her, even running the risk of making her mother angry. She flopped a bag onto the bed, and then immediately dismissed the childishness of it. To what point and purpose? To stay over at his house for a few days, and then come home, with nothing changed? 

Avital sat down on her bed, brow furrowed and leaned forward onto her knees. She had always respected Pharah. When she was a child, she had desperately wanted to be just like her. Her mother was a logical woman, who thought things through carefully, to the point where her Aunt Hana would tease her about having a pro and con list to order lunch. She rarely tried to hide things from Avital. Even when she had been very young, she had navigated difficult questions along with her. 

Her parents had always been so keen on understanding and wisdom, and now she was being treated as if she had no right to her own life. 

Tears stung her eyes. What was it about Germany that made her so angry? Pharah had happily allowed her to go up to Scotland, to France. She’d sent her to spend a few weeks in Canada, in Egypt, and those were much further than she was wanting to go now, and with much less supervision. Her grandfather would probably let her use a rocket launcher if she asked nicely, he was such a rose petal of man. 

Avital leaned back into her bed, trying to work it out in her mind. She wasn’t a poor read of people, by any stretch of the imagination, a skill she would only hone as she got older, but her youth and her frustration were covering all the things she should have been able to see. All that came to mind was her stubborn, impossible mother and her other mother acting as a doormat. 

There was a knock at the door. 

“I’m not particularly interested in talking to you just now.” Avital sat up poker straight, jaw firm, staring at the door. “But given that this is a totalitarian regime, I imagine I don’t have a choice.” 

“I deserve that.” Pharah opened the door, leaning against the doorframe. “Avi,” she closed her eyes, “may I come in, please? You may say no, and I will leave.” 

Avital let her shoulders relax, just a little, but watched Pharah warily. “Alright.” 

Pharah came in, and shut the door behind her, her voice controlled. “Would you prefer to have this conversation in English, or in Arabic?” 

Over the course of her life, particularly as she had gotten older, Avital and her mother had slipped back and forth into either, depending, of course, on who was around them, and how private they wanted the conversation to be, but based just as much on the way the wind was blowing that moment, or which language had a better description for the situation. She had not, to the best of her memory, ever been asked by her mother which she preferred. 

Pharah was offering up a type of contrition, trying to let Avital define the boundaries of her life, and as young as she was, Avital was still able to take it for the olive branch it was. 

“It doesn’t matter, Mum. Whichever one gets you to explain yourself.” It came off with an edge, and Pharah winced at the cut. 

“I deserve that, as well.” Pharah sighed. “Avi, I--here is the problem--I am--” she gave a weak chuckle, “Maybe if I keep switching, I never have to say anything.” 

“Mum.” 

Pharah leaned against Avital’s desk and stared up at the ceiling for a moment, gathering her thoughts, considering the pros and cons of each of them. Avital allowed it, simply sitting at the edge of her bed, waiting to understand. 

“I disagree with your school’s trip itinerary, and everything I think might come of it. What you will be taught.” Pharah looked back at Avital. “Some of this is only my own...I haven’t told you, much, about what happened to me. When I was captured.” she looked away, staring deep into the rug on Avital’s floor, trying to lose herself in the intricate lines of it. ‘When I was tortured.” 

“Mum,” she said again, and yet it seemed a completely different word, soft as a gentle touch, “Do you--do you want to sit?” 

Pharah nodded gratefully and sat next to Avital on the bed, silently for a moment, still staring her way into that rug. 

“You don’t have to protect me. I know more than you think.” 

Pharah put her hand on Avi’s knee. “I am protecting me. I still, sometimes...I struggle, to talk of it.” 

Avital knew many things. Her childhood was a happy but unusual one, and over the years she had patched together what had happened, never told the full truth and yet never really kept from it. She knew things her mother had never told her, she was perfectly aware of how badly she and Tracer had been hurt, how it was the thing that ended up killing Tracer, the reason her mother sometimes still couldn’t wear her arm. 

She even knew that sometimes her mother paced around the living room at night, trying to take a deep breath, trying to come back to the safety of her home. 

Avital didn’t speak of it, for two reasons. One, she loved her mother, even given how angry she was at the moment, and her mother clearly didn’t want to discuss it. Two, she had made a reasonable accounting in the world, that it was always wise to pretend you knew less of people than you did. 

But, wracking her brain, she still couldn’t find the answer. 

“You weren’t...you know, hurt, in Germany, though.” 

“No,” Pharah shook her head, “I was not. But, when I saw, that you were going to The Institute of Human Advancement, that they were offering a tour, that you would be spending a whole day--they funded Moira.” 

Pharah immediately got to her feet, hand to the back of her neck, and all the anger popped up there against. It was as if Avital could see the steam rise from her mother’s head. It had been almost twenty years, Avital would absolutely not say, and they have funded a hundred other projects, she would certainly not add, and didn’t Overwatch also fund her, she would not close with. Her mother was a reasonable woman on most topics, but on the subject of Dr. Moira O’Deorain, a thousand sort of petty hatreds and biased slights were permissible. Her tendency toward meticulousness was never better noted than in her ability to find new reasons to hate anything that had touched Moira. 

Someday, she would talk to her about that. How much energy had she given Moira over these past years? It seemed a waste. Her mother was more intelligent than that. 

“Mum, I don’t know what it is you want me to say.” Avital shook her head and stood, a rush of frustrated English spitting out. “Assuming they decide to offer up propaganda on a woman who has since been disavowed by the medical community, who killed one of the heroes of London, to a group of kids from London, I have the bloody discernment--” 

When we are in the thrall of youth, we occasionally forget that our parents are human beings. They are imperfect, and tender, and foolish in all the same ways they can be wise and loving and strong. When we are teenagers, our parents often become a cliff to be scaled, an obstacle to overcome on our climb upwards. 

But then, there are moments, frightening ones, where we see their humanity completely. 

“I want you to go.” Pharah’s voice was quiet surrender, and she did not look at Avital when she said it, sinking into Avital’s little desk chair. Avital wasn’t sure if she even heard herself. “I am very sorry.” 

Avital looked down at her mother, a twinge forming in her chest. Sometimes, she would reflect in her diary this evening, we get exactly what it is we want, only to discover that the getting it was less fun than we imagined. She hadn’t wanted to see her mother’s wound, still tender after all these years, all the pain she carried. Everything she had read about the incident suddenly seemed meaningless, nothing but bullet point facts, faced with her steadfast, determined mother quietly murmuring in a small wooden chair. She knew the details, but did she know how it had felt? 

She remembered how much gentleness she had shown her Uncle Winston, when he had cried recalling the day they broke them out. She was so tender with her mother when she cried about not being able to save Tracer’s life. Pharah had been there, had taken the torture for days, and Avital had assumed that it had simply been something for Pharah to remain angry about. A kind of historical inefficiency, same as her ranting about how London chose to do civic improvements. 

Her mother felt pain as keenly as anyone, and Avital felt a deep level of shame for not recognizing it. Her mother had been a goal of hers, once upon a time, but she had forgotten even as her goals had shifted to allow her to be fully human. Pharah was not an ideal. She was not a virtue. She was a nearly 50 year old woman, who loved her wife, who was generally an excellent mother, who worried and cared and worked, and, as it turned out, cried. 

Avital, quite without even realizing she was doing it, threw her arms around her mother, and held her tightly. She wanted to ask her to tell her everything, to explain what it had been like, she wanted to buy her mother a pint and have her recount the entire incident as it seemed to her. She wanted to hear about all the things that had only been hinted at over her childhood--the fear Pharah must have felt, the pain, the deep well of guilt she did not deserve, because Tracer had died, and she had lived--but she would not ask them today. Today, she would table every language she had ever learned, and hope the silent one of touch spoke loud enough. 

They were an argumentative and bullheaded pair, the both of them, filled with their own sense of righteousness and honor. Pharah had no reason to deny her this. It was all still true. But suddenly, Avital didn’t care too terribly much. Class trips were mostly a waste of money anyhow. 

There were a million other chances to see Germany.