#ill have to get them presents afterwards too

[shmaptainwrites]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐀 [𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐒𝐎𝐍]

PAIRINGS — James Wilson x ex-wife!Reader

SUMMARY — James and Reader have not been on great terms since their divorce, but an emerging situation with their son forces them to put aside their differences and work together and hope that past feelings don't resurface

WARNINGS — hospitalization, chronic illness, swearing, complicated feelings (idk y'all they're divorced what more can I say)

NOTE — Okay so I have so many things to say about this fic, but if I say them all this post will be way too long it already is like this came up as 33 pages in my docs but this is a day late birthday present for @shots-of-wilson-and-whiskey who also provided the James pic I hope you had such a fun day and a great year of simping ahead!

Pronounciation — Mahlet = Ma-h-let | Hennock = Hey-knock

Ever since you had become a mother, birthday parties were the bane of your existence. The sugar overload, the loud noises, the cleanup afterwards, all amounted to your own personal hell. Yet, you would move hell or high water for your son to have the most enjoyable party every single year. 

Today was no different, eight years later you were still breaking your back to ensure every small detail was perfect, from the pin the spikes on the stegosaurus to the cake you’d spent at least a month painstakingly training to make. 

A friend of yours, another parent from the school your son Julian went to, came over in the kitchen to give you a hand with some of the snacks. 

“How are you managing here?” she asked and you took a deep breath. 

“Managing is the operative word,” you chuckled. “Kids having fun out there?” 

“Yeah, loads, you’ve outdone yourself again,” she assured you. “Will James be making an appearance?” 

“I stopped asking myself that question after we got divorced,” you said while fixing the plate of vegetables and dip. “He’s supposed to, he promised Julian, but we all know how that ends.” 

There seemed to be a bit of commotion out in the backyard and you tried to assess what was happening from the window, but your suspicions that something was off was confirmed when Julian’s best friend, Hennock, came rushing inside.

“Mrs. Wilson, something’s going on with Julian,” he said and you frowned while your friend followed you outside to see the kids circling around Julian who seemed to be gripping onto his chest. 

“Jay, what’s going on? Are you okay?” you bent down to be closer to his eye-level, trying to understand what was happening to your son. 

“Can’t…” he pointed to his mouth. “Can’t…breathe,” he wheezed. 

Your eyes went wide, but before you could grab him and run for the car he began to cough and you hoped and prayed there was just something caught in his throat that would make its way out, but with the coughing came spatters of red all over your white shirt.

“Mahi,” you looked over at your friend quickly while picking Julian up. You didn’t have to say a word, she already knew what she needed to do. 

Living close to the hospital, it was worth it to drive yourself, that way you didn’t have to wait for an ambulance to get to you. You had made the mental calculations many times before, just in case there was an emergency and now it was finally coming in handy. 

When you got Julian in the car, you checked in on his breathing, it was still laboured, but at least at this point he was getting in the air, even if he was coughing up blood. 

You turned on the car and began driving while calling your ex-husband with one hand. The line rang until you reached voicemail so you called again, expecting at least this time for him to pick up, only to hear the tone once more. 

“Dammit James!” you threw your phone down on the seat next to you knowing you’d deal with him later, now you needed to focus on getting to the hospital without killing either of you. 

Barely paying attention to how your car was parked, you grabbed Julian out of the back seat and ran into the ER with him. 

“Ma’am, what’s going on?” a nurse came and asked you as you put Julian down. 

“My son, he-he’s having trouble breathing and he’s coughing up blood I-I-I don’t know what’s happening.” 

Before you could say a word they had whisked Julian away and another nurse came to ask you some questions about his medical history and any information that may be important to the doctors treating him. 

“Where’s my son?” you asked, “I want to see my son.” 

“Ma’am I’m sorry, but the doctors are working on getting his airway cleared, you can’t be with him right now.” 

You pressed your lips into a thin line and bit back your tongue. There were a million and one things you wanted to say to the nurse, but none of them would help your situation. On the other hand, finding your ex might. 

So instead of finding the waiting room you went over to the elevator and made your way up to the oncology department, briskly walking through the halls until you reached his office. At this point, you didn’t bother knocking, opening the door to see him sitting down over a file and talking with House. 

“Hey Greg,” you said in a fake cheery voice. “Mind giving us the room?” 

“Oh, this is the wife with the kid, did you forget to pay child support?” House asked James. 

“Get out, Greg,” you said warningly and he listened, instead opting to steal the rest of James’ sandwich and slipping past you, while wishing James good luck and letting you slam the door shut behind you. 

“What’s going on?” James asked, clearly confused by your demeanour and appearance. “If this is about the party I didn’t forget I was-wait is that blood,” he stood up from his chair and came over to you. 

“What’s going on is you didn’t pick up your fucking phone,” you said angrily. 

“Hey,” James looked at you sternly. “What is going on?” he repeated his question, this time more pointedly. 

You could feel your lips begin to tremble and your vision became blurred while you shook your head. 

“Who’s blood is on your shirt?” 

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, “It’s Julian’s.” 

“Julian-I-what happened?” his demeanour changed from frustrated with your attitude towards him to worrying for his son. 

“I-I don’t know he said he couldn’t breathe and then he started coughing up blood and I just picked him up and drove him here a-and now they won’t let me see him.” 

“You drove him?” he asked incredulously. “You didn’t think to maybe call an ambulance?” 

“That’s what you’re hung up on? That I decided to drive because it was faster than getting him an ambulance?” 

“That’s not what I-,” 

“Yes it is,” you stepped back. “I wouldn’t have needed an ambulance if you were there.” 

James sighed and chose to ignore your comment, 

“Where is he?” he asked. 

“Emergency room,” you muttered. “They won’t let me see him, you need to talk to them, say something, anything.” 

James nodded his head, at least you could agree on that. He walked with you out of the office and to the elevator so you could go to the ER together and figure out what the hell was happening to your son. 

When you got down there and James began speaking to the nurses, they informed him that Julian had been moved to the ICU and his respiration was being closely monitored while they ran a few tests to see what had caused the arrest. 

You had to fight to hold yourself upright when they pulled back the curtain and you could see Julian hooked up to all the machines and with a ventilator tube stuck down his throat. You covered your mouth with your hand and shook your head again. This couldn’t be happening, now you were supposed to be cutting into cake and opening presents, not sitting in the ICU. 

You stepped inside with James and he closed the curtain to give you a bit of privacy and decided to look over his chart and see if they had given any relevant information there. Seeing none, he turned his attention over to you, seeing your eyes filled with tears, unable to tear your gaze away from your son. 

James walked over to you and cautiously put a hand on your shoulder, eventually encouraging you to turn around so he could pull you into his arms. You allowed your tears to soak his white coat, gripping onto him so tightly because there was nowhere else to hold. 

You could hear his breathing change, accompanied by the small sniffles and you knew he was doing just as bad as you were right now, wiping the tears from his own eyes as he finally allowed himself to see his son as he was, sick, helpless, vulnerable, and only moments ago, without his dad’s help when he needed him most. 

Your moment was interrupted when you heard the curtain being pulled back and you saw two doctors standing there. You pulled away from James and wiped whatever remaining tears were in your eyes so you could properly address them.

It seemed as though one of the doctors recognized James and when he looked down at the file and saw the name he made the connection internally. 

“Can we talk to you guys out in the waiting room for a moment?” he asked. 

“I don’t want to leave my son,” you shook your head. 

“Ma’am, this is the ICU and the visiting hours are very strictly adhered to, I think your husband maybe got lucky and pulled a few strings so you could see your son, but we need to leave now.” 

“He’s not my husband,” you muttered and reluctantly followed them out of the makeshift room and towards the waiting area. 

“Did you find out what was wrong?” James asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “I looked at his chart. You took him for an emergency CT and bloodwork.” 

“We also ran a few other tests,” the doctor began explaining. “From the medical history your, um, ex wife gave I had a suspicion of something so we ran a sweat test to check for elevated chloride levels and it just came back positive.” 

“Chloride levels?” you looked up at James. “What does that mean?” 

James sighed and ran a hand through his hair, “It means Julian has cystic fibrosis.” 

“I-I’ve heard of that, is it curable?” you asked. 

“I’ll leave you guys with Dr. Liu, he deals with the pediatric cystic fibrosis cases and will be able to answer your questions better than I can,” he wished you a good day and left you alone with the other doctor. 

“Cystic fibrosis is manageable-,” 

“So you can’t cure it,” you reiterated. 

The doctor shook his head, “Unfortunately there is no cure for CF yet, but many people have been able to live longer and happy lives with the medical technology now available.” 

James was silent, taking in all the information that was being presented. 

“How did he get it? Is it contagious or-or was it just always there?” you asked. 

“It’s a genetic condition, so he’s always had it, the symptoms have just gotten to the point where they’re now visible,” the doctor explained.

“I-It’s genetic so one of us is a carrier?” you pointed to you and James. 

“We both are,” James said. “Both parents have to be carriers to pass it down to their child, right?” 

Dr. Liu nodded and you pressed your lips together. 

“C-Can you just tell us what this means for right now?” you asked. “I just think-I think I need a minute.” 

Dr. Liu nodded his head and explained they were giving Julian medication to help with the infection and airway damage that caused him to cough up blood, then they would get him on some bronchodilators to help with his breathing for the time being while they assessed what other issues the cystic fibrosis had potentially caused in his body. He’d have to stay at the hospital for a while, but hopefully could be moved to the pediatric ward within the next day or so.

“We can talk more about what Julian’s medical journey will look like later, I’ll give you guys some time together and if you have any questions, Wilson’s got my pager and knows where my office is.” 

You nodded your head and thanked him quietly as he left the waiting area. You finally sat down on one of the chairs. 

James took the seat next to you and you covered your face with your hands. 

“We couldn’t give him a functional family and a happy home and now we’ve given him a chronic medical condition to top it off.” 

“Blaming ourselves isn’t going to do anything for Julian,” James said. 

“And sitting around here is?” you asked and James sighed. 

“No, no it’s not.” 

You sat there in silence for a little while longer before you noticed James stand up and motion for you to follow him. As much as you didn’t want to listen to him and just sit and wait until they would let you be with Julian again, you got up and followed him to one of the OR supply closets. He used a key to unlock the door and sifted through some materials until he found what he was looking for, pulling out a scrub shirt in your size and handing it over to you. 

You looked down at your own shirt, seeing the red specks of Julian’s blood and closed the door behind your both, pulling your shirt off over your head and handing it to James. You were about to put the other shirt on when you noticed the flecks of dried blood against your chest. 

While you eyes were transfixed on that, James had grabbed an alcohol wipe package from the shelves and tore it open with his teeth, removing the wipe and reaching over to help you clean the blood off yourself. 

“James, I can do it myself,” you reached for the wipe, but he pulled it away. 

“You’ve got some on your neck too, just let me take care of it,” he insisted. 

You knew better than to cause a fight over something trivial like this right now so you put your hands down, watching as James tossed your shirt over his shoulder and carefully began wiping away the specks of your son’s blood off your chest, collarbone, and neck. 

“Have you eaten today?” he asked you while holding your face to tilt it to the side so he could get a spot he’d missed earlier. 

“No, why?” 

“Because it’s his birthday, you’d always forget to eat until dinner and even then it would be scraps from the party until I forced you to eat something better,” he recounted. “Let’s just go grab something from the cafeteria before we go back to the ICU, okay?” 

“Will it make a difference if I say I’m not hungry?” you asked. 

“You can’t take care of Julian if you’re not taking care of yourself.” 

You scoffed and pulled the shirt over your head, “And you’ve suddenly become an expert on taking care of your family?” 

“Believe it or not, we were once happy and there was a reason we got married and decided to have a child together.” 

“And there’s a reason we got divorced too,” you added and opened the door behind you.

You didn’t go to the cafeteria, instead heading back to the ICU waiting room knowing either visiting hours would have to start eventually or they’d move Julian to his own room and you could finally sit with him. 

James clearly hadn’t followed you so you ended up alone again, wringing your hands and waiting for some sort of news. 

Eventually, you felt a bag drop on your lap and you looked up and saw James standing overtop of you. You looked inside and saw a package of a sandwich, a small bag of chips, and a water bottle. 

You knew he was right, that if you didn’t take care of yourself you wouldn’t be able to take care of Julian, so you forced yourself to eat, even if you didn’t want to. 

A little while later, Dr. Liu had returned and informed you that they were moving Julian to the pediatric ward and you could stay with him there in his room. When you joined him there, James had taken off his white coat and tossed it on one of the chairs, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt and sitting down next to Julian’ taking one of his hands in his own. 

“Don’t you have patients you need to see?” you asked, sitting on the opposite side of the hospital bed. 

“I told Cuddy I needed the day, someone else is taking care of it for me,” he said, not removing his gaze from Julian. 

With the two of them sitting next to each other like that, you could clearly see the similarities Julian had with his father. They shared the same eyes and nose, and when they smiled they had the same little creases around their eyes. 

You wished that’s what you could have been looking at, them smiling together, instead of the frown etched onto James’ face and Julian still fast asleep while an oxygen mask now delivered the air he needed to help him breathe. 

“Do you know much about cystic fibrosis?” you asked James, brushing your thumb against Julian’s other hand. 

“Only that it mainly affects the digestive system and the respiratory tract,” he explained. “I’m not too familiar with how it's managed, just that there’s regular doctor’s visits and probably some medication and therapies involved.” 

You could feel a small stirring and you looked down and saw Julian’s hand begin to move underneath yours. 

You smiled when you saw his eyes blink open and James was quick to stand up and come closer to him so he had a familiar face to look at while he took in his surroundings. 

“Hey buddy,” James smiled and you could see Julian light up at the sight of his dad. He lifted his hand to try to remove the oxygen mask, but James gently encouraged him not to. “This is giving your lungs an extra hand right now, let’s just keep it on until the doctor tells us it's okay to take it off.” 

“But you’re a doctor,” Julian countered and James chuckled. 

“I am, but I'm not your doctor. I am, however, your dad so you have to listen to me anyways,” he teased and bent down to kiss his son’s cheek and tickle him a little bit in the process. 

“Hey, go easy on him,” you placed a gentle hand on James' arm and he laid off. 

“You know,” James said. “It’s still your birthday.” 

“It is?” Julian asked and you both nodded and James reached down to grab something he’d brought with him. 

“All the presents your friends got you are at home waiting for you to get better so you can open them, but this is what I got for you,” he said. “I was gonna come and bring it to the party, but I think you brought the party to me.” 

Julian laughed a little at that and you rolled your eyes, of course James could make himself look good by not showing up. 

He sat up with the help of his dad and pulled out the tissue paper from the bag to see the present that was hiding underneath. With a big grin on his face, he took out a dinosaur stuffed animal along with a book all about the different species of the Cretaceous period. 

“This is awesome,” Julian grinned. “Thanks dad, I love it.” 

James gave Julian another kiss and you joined them, taking a seat on the bed and glancing over at the book on Julian’s lap. 

“How are you feeling sweetheart?” you asked, fixing the twisted band of the oxygen mask on his face. 

“My throat hurts a little bit,” he admitted. “And I’m kinda hungry.” 

“Let me call a nurse and we’ll see what you can eat,” you said and pressed the button to send someone over from the nurses’ station. 

Meanwhile, James poured Julian a glass of water and helped him take a few sips of it. His throat was probably irritated from being on the ventilator, but his lungs had become stabilized from the use of the bronchodilators. 

The nurse came and you spoke to her about getting Julian something to eat and she said she’d double check with Dr. Liu and then grab him some food. 

“Hey, Jay,” you walked over to the bed and took your son’s hand in yours. “Are you okay to hang out here with dad while I go grab some stuff from home? The doctors said we might hang around here for a few days so I think I need to pack a bag.” 

“Yeah, that’s okay,” Julian nodded. “Are you okay mom?” he reached up and touched your cheek and you realized you'd let a few more tears slip.

“Yeah, I’m just really happy you’re okay,” you wiped the tears away and pressed a big kiss to his cheek. “Right, Jamie? We’re both happy he’s okay.” 

James looked over at you with softness reflecting in his eyes at the sound of the nickname he hadn’t heard in a long time and nodded his head. 

“Bring some cake back with you,” Julian whispered. “Even if dad and the doctor say no we can sneak some.” 

You laughed at his plan and gave him another kiss, assuring him you’d pack some in a container to bring for him when you came back.

When you arrived at your home, you thought you might cry at the sight in front of you. The kitchen and living room were completely clean, presents piled neatly on the coffee table along with a new card you didn’t recognize. Coming closer, you noticed the bright marker, signature of eight-year-olds across the country, with the message Get Well Soon Julian! written on it and signed by all his friends who had attended the party. 

You packed the card in your bag along with a few other things and made a mental note to grab a nice thank you gift for Mahlet to thank her for what she had done. 

As promised, you cut a big chunk of cake, enough for the three of you to share, and packed it in a tupperware to bring back to the hospital. 

You grabbed a few changes of clothes for both you and Julian and changed out of the temporary shirt you had on and into something more comfortable for the rest of the evening, making sure everything you needed was in place before heading out and going back to the hospital. 

When you got back to Julian’s room you saw James squished in next to him on the bed, the book he had bought him opened on his lap as he read its contents to Julian. Julian was resting his head against James’ arm and James was doing those big exaggerations he always would whenever he’d read bedtime stories to Julian, emphasizing all the insane details and changing the inflections of his voice in just the right way to make him laugh. 

“I brought cake,” you grinned, holding up the container as you entered the room, holding three plastic forks. “If Dr. Dad says it's okay, we can eat it.” 

“Dr. Dad desperately needs some sugar,” James nodded his head and closed the book for the time being while you took a seat by Julian’s legs and opened the container, handing each of the boys a fork. 

You helped Julian take off his oxygen mask for the time being and placed it off to the side, acutely aware of how his breathing sounded more laboured without it. 

James only snuck in a couple bites of the cake before taking the mask from your side and holding it ready in case Julian needed a bit of an extra hand. 

Just as he had predicted, after a few bites of cake Julian was noticing a bit of a difficulty to get air into his lungs and James held up the mask to his face, allowing him to take a couple deep breaths. 

“What do you think of the cake, Jay?” you asked. 

“Really good, just like everytime you make it,” he grinned. 

“I’m sorry you didn’t have a great birthday, buddy,” James apologized. “I mean with all your friends and classmates.” 

“What do you mean?” Julian asked. “I think I had a good birthday.” 

“You do?” you frowned curiously, wondering what kind of light he’d seen in the day that you and James as worried parents had somehow missed. “What made it good?”

“We’re sitting eating cake. Together. Just like when I was little,” he said simply and you chewed on the inside of your cheek, looking over at James whose gaze hadn’t left Julian. He almost looked disappointed, at what, you couldn’t place, but at least for the moment Julian was happy and that was all either of you really wanted. 

—

You grabbed your purse from the ground and thanked Dr. Liu for all of the information he had given you and assured you’d be there with Julian at the allocated follow-up time you had arranged. You were just about to leave when James came rushing into the room, apologies spewing out of his mouth for being late. 

“Late? You missed the whole appointment.”

“I-I did?” he said, looking down at his watch and cursing when he saw the time. 

“Jay, sweetheart, why don’t you sit down here,” you moved out of Dr. Liu’s office and set him up on a chair in one of the general waiting areas and handed him his dinosaur book from your purse. “I just need to go have a chat with your dad real quick.” 

Julian nodded and opened up the book, flipping through the pages while you grabbed James’ arm and pulled him into a dead-end hallway so you could speak in private. 

“What the hell took you so long?” you asked firmly. “We waited for twenty minutes before even starting the appointment!” 

“I’m sorry,” James apologized, “I was in the OR with a patient and something went haywire and it took longer than expected to fix it.” 

“Still, you couldn’t have told someone to at least pass on a message?” 

“I was in the middle of saving a patient’s life! What did you want me to do?” 

“I wanted you to be there for your son,” you whispered harshly. “You make promises you can’t keep and I have to watch him get disappointed over and over again. He does not deserve that, especially now.” 

James placed his hands on his hips and said, 

“I am trying to be there, it’s not for lack of effort-,” 

“Well try harder!” you threw your hands up in the air. “You’re an ex-husband James, not an ex-father. You don’t have to show up for me anymore, but you damn well better show up for him.” 

When he said nothing you continued. 

“Believe it or not, you don’t have to work as much as you do James. You chose to do that and right now that’s coming at your son’s expense and he is scared and vulnerable and neither of us know half of what Dr. Liu is talking to us about. Do you know what he said to me when I was confused about the management plan? He said Dad would know what this means. Dad can help us. And he’s right, you would have known and you can help so stop acting like your fucking schedule controls you and get your schedule under control.” 

James was quiet for a moment before he nodded his head, 

“Okay,” he said simply. 

You knew better than to get your hopes up with him and you didn’t have any more energy to argue, so you told him you could talk more later, but right now you were going to take Julian home so he could rest in his own bed and finally open his birthday presents. 

“Is dad coming with us?” Julian asked when you picked him up and began walking away to leave the hospital. 

“No, not this time,” you shook your head. 

“Did you fight with him again?” Julian asked and you pressed your lips together. 

“We just had a disagreement,” you settled on. “You can call him later when he’s done work if you want to talk to him, sounds good?” 

Julian was content with your answer and left it at that. 

Over the next few days, aside from Julian’s call, you didn’t hear much for James and you assumed things were right on track to going back to the way they had always been. You loved your son to pieces, but this was one time you wished his dad would be here to support, working and caring for Julian on top of trying to figure out how to be his at home doctor was already taking its toll and you didn’t know how you’d be able to keep it up. 

One night, you were sitting in the living room reading a book Dr. Liu had recommended. It was detailing strategies for parents with children who had cystic fibrosis. In the middle of your chapter you were interrupted by a knock to your door and you put in your bookmark, wondering who was stopping by this far into the evening. 

Unlocking the door and opening it, you found it hard to hide the surprise in your face when you saw James on the other end. 

“James?” you tilted your head. “I haven’t heard from you at all this week, what’s going on?” 

“I reduced my patient load,” he said, “and I talked to Cuddy about reducing my clinic hours. I still have to do some administrative stuff for the department, but it can be done from home for the most part.” 

“Oh,” you were surprised to say the least. You didn’t realize your outburst the other day had worked. 

“You were right,” he said. “I need to be here for Julian and I can’t do that if my work always comes first.” 

You nodded your head, following along with what he was saying. 

“C-Can I come in and see him?” James asked. “I know our custody agreement has always been all over the place-,” 

You didn’t say anything, simply opening the door wider for him to come inside. 

“He’s asleep in his room,” you said. “When you’re done we can talk some more.” 

James nodded and stepped inside, slipping off his shoes and taking off his jacket, making his way to Julian’s room to sit with him for a moment before joining you in the kitchen. 

“Want something to drink?” you asked and he said some water would be nice. You poured him a glass while waiting for the water to boil for your tea. 

“I saw the book you were reading over there,” he pointed to the couch. “Dr. Liu recommended it to me too, I just finished it the other night.” 

“Show off,” you rolled your eyes and handed him the glass. 

“What I was trying to say is I think something that stood out to me is having consistency and a routine is good, especially when things are new,” James explained. “I don’t think it makes sense for him to be moving back and forth from here to my place.” 

“So you think we should have a home base here?” you confirmed and he nodded. 

“I can come by more often, if there’s days where you need to be at work I can be doing the administrative stuff here after school and take care of Julian until you get back.” 

You pursed your lips and as you heard the kettle click, moved to pour your hot water into the mug you were holding. 

“These are all good ideas,” you started. 

“I’m assuming there’s a but coming?” 

“But I don’t want to give Julian the wrong impression is all.” 

James shook his head. 

“You really need to pick whatever it is you want,” James crossed his arms over his chest. “First I’m not here enough, I don’t put my family first. Now I’m putting my family first and you’re worried Julian’s going to think this means we’re getting back together.” 

“He doesn’t need to get his hopes up for something that’s never going to happen,” you said flatly. 

“Have you ever considered having a conversation with him instead of shielding him from every little thing that might hurt him?” James asked and you rolled your eyes. 

“Clearly every little thing can hurt him!” you pointed over to his room. “He can’t even breathe without help, James. Maybe he needs to be protected.” 

“Stop, just stop,” James ran a hand over his face. “I can’t get into a fight with you every single time we see each other. Julian is just as much my son as he is yours, if this is going to work we need to be able to have a conversation with each other.” 

You took a sip of your tea and said,

“Okay, I’m worried Julian might take the fact that you’re around more the wrong way.” 

James nodded his head, “I hear you, so maybe we should talk to him about it and say I’m coming around more to lend a hand around the house and help take care of him.” 

“Dad? What are you doing here?” as if on cue, Julian had walked into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes awake and adjusting to the light. 

“Julian, where’s your oxygen mask?” 

“I don’t wanna wear it mom,” he whined. “I don’t like the way it feels on my face.” 

You sighed, having had this conversation at least five times before, you didn’t know what else you could say to convince him. 

“Hey buddy, maybe we should listen to mom on this one,” James suggested. “You know that feeling you’ve got right here,” he pointed to his chest. “That’s only gonna get worse if you don’t wear it and we don’t want to have to go to the hospital again, right?” 

Julian shook his head and sighed, stomping back over to his room to grab the portable machine and place the tube under his nose and around his ears, allowing him to get the right amount of oxygen. 

You looked over at James gratefully and he reached his hand out to yours and gave it a squeeze. It was nice being on the same team even if you had just been arguing. 

When Julian came back he repeated his question to his dad who explained that he was here to talk to you about a few things that would be changing soon and that he’d be around more to help look after him. 

“If you’re going to be here to help look after me can you stay tonight?” Julian asked. “Mom still has some of your clothes in those boxes in her closet.” 

“She does, does she,” James looked over at you. 

“It was the stuff you wanted to give away and I never got around to it,” you said. “There’s probably a hoodie and some pyjama pants in there if you want to stay.” 

James pressed his lips together and sighed, 

“You know buddy as much as I would love to have a sleepover with you I don’t think it’s a good idea if I spend the night here,” James said. “But I can tuck you in again and wait until you fall asleep to go back home.” 

“Mom, can you come too?” Julian asked and you nodded your head. 

James stood up and helped Julian carry his portable oxygen machine back to his bedroom and you trailed behind them, watching as James carefully tucked Julian back under the covers while peppering his face with small kisses, like he would do when Julian was younger and just learning to sleep in his own room. 

“Dad that tickles,” Julian giggled and James simply smiled and continued littering his face with kisses. 

“Too bad. I love you too much; I just can’t get enough of you.” 

“Alright, move it,” you nudged James from the opposite side of the bed and took your turn. “It must tickle having two parents who love you so damn much.” 

“It does,” Julian’s laughter died out as you both finally left him alone, sitting on either side of his mattress. 

You both wished him a good night and waited as he slowly fell back asleep. When his breathing was steady and his grip loosened on yours and James’ hands you took it as your cue to leave the room. 

James placed a hand on your shoulder as you stepped out of the room, prompting you to turn around and face him. 

“I’ll come by tomorrow and we can work out a schedule or something, does that sound good?”

You nodded your head, 

“Yeah, I have a work thing tomorrow in the evening, I was gonna ask Mahlet, Hennock’s mom, if she could come look after Julian, but if you’re around…” 

“I’ll come for dinner and then do the bedtime routine,” he said and you smiled. 

“James I’m begging you-,” 

“I won’t be late,” he assured. “No surgeries planned and I’m ending my shift with clinic duty.” 

You pressed your lips into a thin line and nodded your head. 

“I’ll see you then,” you patted his arm and he showed himself out. 

You walked back to the kitchen grabbing your now lukewarm cup of tea and sitting back on the couch picking up your book and opening it, reading until you couldn’t keep your eyes open any longer, falling asleep right there on the couch. 

—

Over the next few months, you, James, and Julian had developed some sort of routine around school, work, and doctor’s appointments. A part of you thought you were spending more time together as a family than when you were married. 

Today you had to go in for work, also having reduced your hours, but in a way that you were working in tandem with James. When you arrived back home the house smelled like warm spices and big plates of home-cooked food. 

You dropped your keys on the entryway table, next to James’ keys and wallet and took off your jacket, hanging it up before coming to the kitchen and seeing Julian and Hennock doing their homework at the island. 

“Mr. Wilson, what is the difference between these two words?” Hennock asked, holding up his paper so James could see while cutting some vegetables for a salad. 

“I think the first one is the kind of principal in your school that looks after all the students and the other one is… man, that’s hard to describe. Hey, how do you describe what principle is to an eight-year-old?” James asked you. 

“I think that kind of principle is something that guides the way people behave or act,” you sat next to Julian and Hennock. “Like a principle is the foundation for something that people believe in.” 

Hennock and Julian still looked a little confused by your explanation so you tried to give an example. 

“So a principle could be to be kind to everyone we meet and so people who believe in that principle will try to follow it.” 

That put it in better terms for them to understand and there was a chorus of oh’s before they looked back down at their papers and scribbled down a few things to answer the questions they were asked. 

“They learning about homonyms?” you asked James and he nodded.

“I talked to Mahlet,” James said, changing the topic. “Hennock’s gonna stay for dinner and she’ll come pick him up around seven.” 

“Sounds good, it’s always nice to have you, Henny,” you smiled and ruffled your hand through his coarse curly hair in an endearing way. 

“Thanks, Mrs. Wilson,” Hennock smiled. 

James was now over the stove, stirring what looked like a soup before giving it a taste and figuring something might be missing.

“Can you taste this?” James asked. “I don’t know why, but every time I make it there’s something off.” 

You took a spoon and tried a little bit of the broth, looking down to see that he was making matzah ball soup and immediately when you tasted it you knew what was missing. 

“I know what it is,” you said. “But you can’t tell your mom I told you. She swore me to secrecy.” 

“My mother told you this?” James asked and you nodded. 

“When we were getting married she wanted me to know how to make it the way she would for you when you were sick.” 

“And she didn’t think to tell her own son how to do this?” he seemed thoroughly offended, but all you could do was laugh. 

“It’s tarragon. I don’t think it’s something everyone adds, it was just something special she’d put in hers to make it a little different. Here,” you reached into the spice cupboard and took out a jar of dried tarragon and took a bit of the herb out of the container and crushed it in your hands before sprinkling it into the soup. James mixed it in and gave the broth a minute to soak in the flavour before trying it again and shaking his head. 

“I can’t believe she didn’t tell me!” 

“I’ll let you finish having your little meltdown,” you patted his back. “I’m gonna hop in the shower quickly and we can eat when I get out.” 

“Did Dad forget the tarragon?” Julian asked and you nodded your head. 

“Wow, so everyone knew, but me?” James asked and you nodded your head with a shrug. 

“Sorry, I guess your mom has favourites, or something.” 

“Figures,” James teasingly rolled his eyes and you chuckled, waving him off and going to take a shower and change into something a little more comfortable. 

When you came back outside they had migrated to the dining room table, each with a bowl of soup in front of them and a plate of salad. You sat on the same side as James since Julian and Hennock were already sitting next to each other and the boys happily recounted the details of their school day and playdate with you while everyone ate their soup and salad. 

“What did you do at work, Dad?” James asked. 

“Oh, nothing interesting,” he shook his head. “I think your mom was doing bigger things than me.” 

“Bigger than treating people with cancer? You flatter me,” you drank some of your soup’s broth. “I had a meeting with a big company about a building they’re making.” 

“Did you go do a site visit?” James asked and you nodded. 

“Engineers are being a pain in the butt, keep making me adjust the design, but we’ll see who gets the last laugh.” 

“Mom always does,” Julian told Hennock and they chuckled along with James. 

After dinner James helped you clear up some of the dishes before heading out and leaving you with the boys. When Mahlet came by to pick Hennock up you invited her in for tea and a little visit. 

“Thanks for coming to stay with Julian the other night,” you said after handing her a mug. “For once, I was the late one and James had an emergency come up so it was a huge help.” 

“And how are things now, with the co-parenting?” 

You took a sip of your tea, “Weirdly good,” you admitted. “We don’t argue as much which is nice and Julian gets to see his dad more.” 

“Do you think maybe you’re not fighting because he’s changing?” she asked. 

“I don’t wanna go down that path,” you shook your head. “If Jay hadn’t been diagnosed things would still be the same as they always were.” 

“But they’re not. More often than not people show their true colours during times of difficulty.” 

You took a deep breath and sighed, “If that was the case I would have seen something worth keeping when my marriage was falling apart.” 

Mahlet nodded, seeing as you had a point and your conversation was halted as they boys came out of Julian’s room. 

Mahlet and Hennock left shortly afterwards and you quickly got Julian ready for bed, tucking him in and then going to get settled yourself. You looked through a few client papers for work before calling it a night and turning off your bedside lamp, curling into bed and falling asleep. 

Your sleep was interrupted in the middle of the night by a tapping on your shoulder and when you blinked your eyes open you saw Julian standing next to your bed. 

“Jay, sweetheart, is something wrong?” you asked. 

“My stomach really hurts,” he told you and you sat up, motioning for him to come sit with you on the bed. 

“Where?” you asked, turning on the light and he pointed to the upper right corner of his abdomen. If you remembered correctly that wasn’t exactly where his stomach was and your suspicions were confirmed when you saw the yellowing whites of his eyes. “Oh, sweetheart, I think we have to go to the hospital.” 

“The hospital? What happened?” Julian looked worried and you assured him everything would be alright. 

“We’re just being safe,” you told him. “I’m gonna call your dad, maybe he can tell us a little bit more of what’s going on. Do you feel good enough to get your jacket and shoes and your hospital bag?” 

Julian nodded his head and you gave him a kiss and he went off to grab his things while you did the same, but also taking your cell phone and calling James. 

It took a few rings, but he eventually picked up. 

“Hey, did something happen?” he asked and you could still hear the sleep thick in his voice. 

“I think something’s wrong with Julian. I’m gonna take him to the hospital, can you meet us there?” 

“Yeah, of course, I’m on my way.” 

“James…the whites of his eyes were yellow. Does he have jaundice?” you asked.

“It’s possible, was there anything else?” 

“Yeah, he mentioned stomach pain, but he pointed to like his upper right abdomen, I think,” you explained while grabbing your bag and putting on some socks. 

“Makes sense as a liver issue,” you could hear his car starting in the background. “If he’s presenting symptoms now I would call an ambulance.” 

“James-,” 

“Just trust me,” he said. “Call 911.” 

“Okay,” you nodded your head and hung up, calling the emergency services and explaining the situation to them and then to Julian while you waited for them to arrive. 

James made the right call, seeing as while you were in the ambulance Julian began to throw up and the paramedics obviously handled it better than you could have if you had driven him. 

When you arrived at the ER they wheeled Julian away and you began getting flashbacks to when you first brought him in. 

“Where are you taking him?” you called after them, but no one answered you. “What the hell kind of hospital is this?! Where are you taking my son?!” 

“Ma’am they're taking your son to do a liver biopsy,” one of the nurses came back and informed you. “We need you to sign this consent form.” 

You nodded your head and took the pen from her hand, signing it, but just as you were about to ask her a question she ran off to give them the okay. 

You could feel your anger and worry bubbling inside your throat and you wanted to let it out in a scream and you were about to go running after her, but before you could you felt someone grab your wrist and pull you back. 

“James let me go,” you said warningly, looking back at your ex-husband. 

“No,” he stated just as firmly. 

“James-,” 

“I am not going to let you do something you’re going to regret,” he said and pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you, even when you pushed to get away. 

“James, let me go.”

“No,” he repeated and simply held onto you tighter. 

“Let me-,” your voice broke and you stopped pushing away. “Please, Jamie, please I just want to see him,” you cried into his shirt and he squeezed you so tight you thought you might get bruises in your arm from the way he was holding you. 

“I know, I know,” he whispered. “You brought him here and he’s going to be fine.” 

“I can’t do this anymore, James. I can't be his mom and his doctor and they can’t expect me to wait out here while they drag him away and ask me to consent to God knows what.” 

James didn’t know what to tell you, instead he just continued to hold you close, rubbing his hands up and down your back, and pressed a soft kiss against your temple. 

You wrapped your arms around him and finally let yourself fully sink into his embrace, hating yourself for how much you liked it and how good it made you feel while your son was in some back corner of the ER getting a piece of his liver biopsied.

Eventually James pulled away from you, helping you dry your tears on the sleeve of his sweater and walking with his arm wrapped around you to the waiting area. You didn’t know how long you were sitting there, but it was possible that you had dozed off once or twice against James’ arm, waiting to hear some sort of news from the ER doctor. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Wilson?” 

Your eyes blinked open when James gently shook you awake. 

“That’s us,” he said. “Is Julian okay?” 

“Your son has a mild case of cirrhosis,” the doctor explained. “Due to his cystic fibrosis diagnosis we believe this is due to clogging and inflammation in his bile ducts.” 

“What does that mean for him? Does he need surgery to fix it?” you asked, fighting back a tired yawn. 

“Unfortunately, yes,” the doctor nodded. “It’s good you caught it early, there’s minimal damage to his liver so far and he’s still growing which means his liver is too. We can get him into an OR tomorrow if you consent to the surgery.” 

You looked over at James and he nodded his head. You trusted him and told the doctor you would sign the papers as soon as you could see Julian. 

“He’s been moved to the pediatric ward for now and Dr. Liu has been informed of the development. He should be in touch with you tomorrow.” 

“Thank you,” James said and when the doctor left, he helped you up and you began the walk up to the pediatric ward. 

When you arrived a nurse pointed you in the direction of his room and after each pressing a kiss to Julain’s forehead you sat on the seat bench together. 

“We should sleep,” James said, but you had a hard time imagining how that would be possible. 

“I’m having a hard time working out the logistics,” you admitted. 

“Come on, it’ll be just like on the way back from our honeymoon,” he insisted, recalling your extremely delayed flight on the way back from France, causing you to sleep with your head on James’ lap, stretched out along the airport chairs. 

You were too tired to argue or try and find another way, so you leaned down and rested your head against his legs, closing your eyes and sighing when you felt his hand rub up and down in long motions along the side of your body. Sleep could not have come quicker.

—

“Mom…Mom, Dad?” 

Julian rolled his eyes when he received no answer and grabbed the stuffed animal you had placed next to him when he’d come into the room and threw it at his sleeping parents, nailing his dad in the face. 

“Oh, God, mhm, wake up,” James shook you while he raised his hands to rub his face.

“Huh?” you opened your eyes and pushed yourself off of James’ lap. “Oh crap, my back. Remind me not to listen to you when you talk about doing something I did ten years ago.” 

“Julian, did you throw Steggy at my face?” James asked, picking up the stuffed animal from where it had fallen on you. 

“You weren’t getting up,” Julian shrugged his shoulders. 

“Julian,” you chastised and took the dinosaur from James’ hand. “You could have hurt your dad’s important doctor-face,” you joked and rubbed your hand all over James’ face making Julian laugh. 

“Okay, okay,” James moved your hand away and gave you a look. 

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” you yawned and moved from the bench to the side of his bed. 

“A little better,” he said. “Did the doctors fix what was wrong?” 

“Not yet,” James shook his head and came to sit next to you and placed a hand on Julian’s. “You’re gonna have to go in for surgery today.” 

“A surgery?” Julian looked a little nervous. “Like cut me open?” 

“It’ll be just a line right here,” James drew it with his finger along Julian’s abdomen. “They’re going to fix a part of you called your bile duct and then sew you right back up and you’ll be good as new.” 

“Is it dangerous?” he asked. 

You looked over at James, a small note telling him to lie to make him feel better. He didn’t need to know all the details. 

“No,” James shook his head. “You’re gonna be fine and your mom and I will be here the whole time.” 

“Promise?” Julian whispered. 

“Swear on it,” James leaned in towards his son and snuck a kiss to his cheek. “We love you, buddy.” 

“I love you guys too.” 

Dr. Liu came by a little while later to inform you what time the surgery was scheduled for and he helped make Julian feel a lot better about the procedure. When it was finally time for him to go, you were a nervous wreck, but tried not to let it show for Julian’s sake, instead just pressing a big kiss to his forehead and telling him you’d be waiting for him once he got out. 

It only took about fifteen minutes of your pacing to get James to grab onto your arm and make you stop. 

“You’re gonna burn a hole in the ground,” he said. 

“I don’t know what to do with myself,” you admitted. “If I sit I’m gonna fidget, if I stand I’m going to pace.” 

“Then come on, let’s go to my office for a second, grab a coffee and a snack and then we can come back out and wait,” he suggested. 

You agreed to his idea so he stood up and you walked side by side to his office, passing House who had some comment about your dishevelled appearance together. 

“You’re an interesting man, Greg,” you shook your head at him. “You can’t think of any other reason we might be here?” 

House was silent so James explained, 

“Julian’s in surgery right now. He’s got cirrhosis.” 

“Ah so not a late night ex-wife rendez-vous. Can’t get ‘em right all the time,” he shrugged and you chuckled. “I hope the kid’s alright.” 

“Thanks, that means a lot coming from you,” you admitted. 

He raised his brows and lifted his cane to say goodbye, letting you and James continue your walk to his office. 

“House mind that you’re not spending as much time here?” you asked. 

“No, he just bothers me more when I am around,” James said while opening the door and letting you inside. 

He went towards his desk and pulled out a few packages of snacks tossing you one and you shook your head when you saw the label. 

“You still eat these? I thought the FDA recalled them?” you asked sarcastically. 

“I’m sorry I have better taste in food than you do,” he said right back. 

“Right, this is food,” you chuckled. “And if you have such good taste why didn’t your mom tell you about her secret ingredient?” 

“That’s cold,” he pointed to you with a bag of chips in his hand. 

“No, it’s true. Just like your dad telling me I was his favourite wife of yours,” you opened the bag James had tossed you. 

“Just shut up and eat your snack,” James chuckled and you listened to him, beginning to eat a little something, not realizing how hungry you were until the food made its way to your stomach. 

“You got another one of these?” you asked and he nodded, passing it to you when you were finished with the first one. 

“Feeling a little better?” James asked and you nodded your head. 

“Hey James?” you said, unsure of how you’d gotten to this point, but you were too exhausted to stop yourself from saying it. “I want you to move back in.” 

“You want me to do what?” he raised his brows and looked at you stunned. 

“I want you to move back in with me and Julian,” you said. “It’s becoming pretty clear to me that it’s safer to have two people around when possible than not and you’re already around all the time now.” 

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” he asked. “I mean you didn’t want to give Julian the wrong idea about us.” 

“Our lives changed the second we got that diagnosis. I think we need to change along with everything else.” 

You couldn’t believe that just barely twelve hours ago you were telling your friend there was no chance James had changed, but here you were saying things that had proved you had changed. Things you wouldn’t have dreamt of saying a year ago. 

“Okay,” James nodded. “I’ll move back in.” 

You just silently hoped you wouldn’t regret asking. 

Waiting for Julian to get out of surgery was a little easier now that you had some food in your stomach and you decided to wait on coffee until you got the note from the surgeon that everything had gone well. 

As James had continued to assure you almost a hundred times, the surgery went fine and before you knew it you were back in Julian’s room watching him sleep off the anaesthetic. 

“You know he looks like you when he sleeps,” James said from the bench while you sat on the bed next to Julian. 

“He does?” 

“Yeah, his nose does that same scrunchy thing when he sniffles and when he snores-,” 

“Hey, I only snore when I’m congested,” you said defensively. 

“I never minded,” James smiled. “I thought it was cute when you sounded like an old man.” 

“Yeah, but you’re not fond of all my old man characteristics,” you turned around to face him, still holding Julian’s hand in yours. 

“All your old man characteristics?” James furrowed his brows in confusion. 

“You told me I argued like an old man. Stubborn and could only see my own way. And I fought dirty.” 

“You sure did,” James nodded. “If you brandishing my mother’s clear favouritism shows anything, it’s definitely that you fight dirty, but I never said I disliked that about you.” 

“Really? Near the end I thought there was a lot you disliked about me.” 

James shook his head, “No, I was just upset and you were passionate. It wasn’t like my other marriages where things just…fizzled.” 

“We did go out with a bang,” you inhaled deeply. 

“If it weren’t for Julian… do you think we’d…” 

You shook your head. 

“No, we probably never would have seen each other again. Another old man trait, I hold a pretty mean grudge.” 

James pressed his lips together and looked over at his sleeping son. 

“I’m happy we had him,” he said quietly. “Even if we didn’t work out.” 

“Me too,” you agreed, looking over at Julian quietly snoring, just like his dad had said. “Best thing that’s ever happened to me.” 

You leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Julian’s nose watching him scrunch it up, making you smile. It was a miracle that two such flawed individuals could make a child so perfect. 

—

“Alright, he is asleep, but I do warn you it took some bribery so you’ll have to buy him another dinosaur book to read to him at night,” you walked out of Julian’s room, dusting your hands off like you’d just finished a heavy labour job. 

“I’ll run to the bookstore tomorrow,” James nodded and you fell onto the couch next to him and sighing as you sunk into the plush fabric before noticing what he was doing. 

“Where did you pull these out of?” you asked with a soft chuckle. 

“I was just clearing up the closet in the guest bedroom and I found a box of these,” he picked up the albums. “Look at this one.” 

He placed the book of photos on your lap and you smiled seeing as it was Julian’s baby album, filled with small mementos and little notes you and James had made in the margins. 

“Oh my God, Mom’s first day home, she looks like an angel,” you read from the side. “And my response: I look like I just got hit by a bus, cut it out.” 

“You can still read my chicken scratch writing?” James asked. 

“My most useless talent as I like to call it,” you nodded. “You wrote a lot in here.” 

“I used to bring it with me to work cause I missed you guys so much,” he admitted. “Made me feel closer to you.” 

You read through some of the notes in the book, chuckling a little at some of the written back and forth you had. Eventually you got to the family portraits you’d had taken a few months after Julian was born, smiling softly to yourself. 

You remembered the day well, you felt like you hadn’t slept in weeks, James was just getting off of a twelve-hour shift and you were almost late to your appointment with the photographer. You were worried everything was going to look terrible and you’d barely had enough time to do your hair or makeup, but James had silenced your worries with a kiss and assured you the pictures would be fine. 

In the end most of them were terrible, but the photographer managed to get two shots, one of you and James smiling down at Julian in your arms and another immediately after where you were looking up and smiling at each other. 

“That session was a shitshow,” you recalled and James agreed. “We did get a few nice things out of it though.” 

You looked back down at the pile of albums in front of you and noticed a large white one, tucked under a few things and even though nothing good could come of it, you pulled it out from the bottom of the pile, carefully blowing off the dust and turning the first page. 

Centerfold, just like you remembered it, was a picture of you and James on your wedding day. You leaned further back into the couch and James scooched in closer to get a look. 

You both looked younger in the picture, with that spark of je ne sais quoi in your eyes. 

“I told you there was a reason we got married,” he said quietly, his hand brushing the corner of the photo. 

“Yeah, we loved each other,” you said. “That was the reason.” 

“Same reason we decided to have Julian,” he added. 

You could feel your breathing become a little more shallow and a tightness in your chest as James spoke about Julian. You remembered the conversations so clearly, like you’d had them yesterday, caught between happy and passionate kisses while James made some dirty jokes about getting you pregnant. 

That was back when he still couldn’t get enough of you. Before things changed and he slowly distanced himself until it felt like it was just you and Julian against the rest of the world, and not the three of you like he had promised all those nights throughout your pregnancy. 

You wondered quietly to yourself what had changed? What had become so unbearable that there was distance in the first place? There was never a lack of love on your end which is why this was dangerous. 

At least when there was distance you could be angry with him, you could go to bed at night and not remember all the little things that made you love him in the first place. He wasn’t there as a constant  reminder that you loved his cooking, or even just your banter together. More importantly, it was giving you new reasons to feel that fluttering feeling in your stomach. 

You’d always loved how he’d interact with Julian, but now that you got to see it day in and day out, it made it harder to weigh that against the cons of everything. Most notably, this was the beginning of the end. If you let yourself fall you would both crash and Julian would be caught in the middle once again. 

You tried to distract yourself by flipping through the album photos to find some funny old picture of a relative or maybe even an embarrassing moment to tone down whatever it was that looking at that picture was making you feel. 

All you could focus on was how in every picture, almost without fail, James was looking over at you. Rarely into the camera along with everyone else. He was enamoured, that was the only word to describe it, and oh how much you missed that look. 

You made the mistake of tearing away your gaze from the pictures, looking up at James instead, and for a moment you thought just maybe you saw that same look in his eyes. But no. It couldn’t have been. The dim light of the lamp must have been playing tricks on you. 

Finally you closed the album and put it back down, unsure of what feelings might resurface if you opened another one. Your honeymoon, family dinners and pictures were all just reminders of the happy times, not what came after.

James did what you didn’t want to, grabbing another album and sifting through the pages until he found what he was looking for, taking a picture out of its protective sleeve and showing it to you. 

“Can I keep this one?” he asked. 

You took it from his hands, examining it while your fingers precariously held the edges of the photograph. 

It was a silly picture, something you had taken while you were travelling. James got someone to take the camera, but along with snapping a few shots while you were posed with smiles they caught a few candids, most notably, James kissing your cheek while you laughed and tried to squirm out of his grasp. 

Your finger gently brushed over the spot on the photo where James’ lips were against your cheek before nodding your head. 

“Sure, you can have it,” you handed him back the picture and patted your hands against your legs, preparing to stand up. “I should get to bed.”

“I’ll be out here for a while longer if you need anything.”

You gave him a tight lipped smile and stood up, walking towards your bedroom. When you closed the door behind you, you let out a breath you had been holding and ran a hand across your face. 

Maybe Julian was never the one at risk of getting the wrong idea.

—

Waking up in the middle of the night always made you feel uneasy. Especially if Julian was the one waking you up. The chance that you’d have to drive to the hospital or call an ambulance was high and you hated the fear and worry that came along with any possible complications. 

Tonight, you woke up on your own accord. Your heart was beating inside your throat and your stomach felt like it was housing a group of persistent butterflies. 

You glanced over at the clock and saw the time, flashing in red. 

3:07

You took a deep breath trying to steady your heart rate and breathing before peeling away your blanket and kicking your feet over the side of the bed. You grabbed a different pair of pyjamas from your dresser and walked into the washroom, tossing them on the far end of the floor while you stripped down and turned on the water for the shower. 

When you stepped inside you hissed initially at the cold, but forced yourself to become fully submerged under the water, closing the curtain behind you. Your muscles clenched as your body adjusted to the temperature, and when the time finally came you let your thoughts and dreams become washed away by the water coming out of the shower head. 

You were simply standing there, letting the water fall on your face when you heard the click of the door opening. 

“Julian, sweetie,” you sighed, turning around so you could speak. “Maybe you should go to your dad if something’s wrong, I’ll come out in a sec.” 

“No need,” you heard a voice that did not belong to your son. 

“James? I’m in the shower. What are you doing?” you asked incredulously, feeling the need to cover yourself up even though there was a curtain blocking his view. You felt exposed nonetheless. 

“It’s three in the morning, I thought something was wrong, I came to check on you,” he explained. 

“And what were you doing up?” you asked. 

“Got in late. There was an emergency at the hospital after you guys went to sleep, I dealt with it and just came back.”

You stepped under the running water again, washing the water over your face with your hands. 

“So, is everything okay?” 

“Peachy,” you said sarcastically, leaning against the wall of the shower. 

“Nobody ever says peachy when things are okay,” James pushed further and you sighed, moving to sit down on the floor of the shower, still positioned under the water. 

“I just had a dream, that’s all,” you said, watching as the water hit your toes and the ground around you. 

“A bad dream?” he asked. 

“No, it was more like… déjà vu.”

James sighed, and rubbed his hands on his legs. 

“Was it about us?” 

He took your silence as a yes. 

James didn’t really know what to say, his hands were clasped together as he leaned  forward sitting on the bathroom counter. 

“You’re not gonna ask what it’s about?” you hugged your knees close to your chest. 

“Would you tell me?” 

“Maybe…I don’t know,” you mumbled. 

There was another moment of silence before James spoke up again, 

“What was it about?” 

You turned to face the water with your eyes closed again, gathering the courage to speak. 

“It started when I told you I was pregnant,” you said softly. “Like the memory replayed in my head, exactly how it happened.” 

“I remember that day,” you heard the soft smile in his voice as he spoke. “You took the test at work and when it came back positive you came straight to the hospital to tell me.” 

“I was barely two steps inside your office when I blurted it out, you were eating lunch and had that stupid look on your face with a mouth full of sandwich,” you chuckled to yourself.

“I almost choked on that,” James shook his head. “And I just remember running up to you and freaking out.”

“And then when you were done freaking out and everything sunk in you kissed me, and you told me you loved me, and we cried because we made a child. Our love did that.” 

You reached forward and turned the shower off, pushing yourself up on your feet and taking a deep breath before pulling back the curtain. You had told him what you were thinking. You couldn’t get any more exposed than that.

James looked stunned for a moment and it didn’t go unnoticed how his eyes raked up and down your figure. 

“Get me the robe, would you?” you motioned to the back of the door and he jumped down grabbing the robe and holding it out for you so you could place your arms into the sleeves and wrap the towelled fabric around you, trying it off with the belt. 

When you turned your head to look back at James, you could tell at least you’d succeeded in raising his heart rate, much like he was doing for you recently. 

You moved to go sit on the closed toilet while James retook his spot on the counter. 

“Do you remember when Julian was born?” he whispered. 

“I like it was yesterday. I can’t believe it’s been eight years,” you nodded your head. 

He was having trouble holding your gaze and you wondered what he was about to say. 

“I-I screwed up,” his voice was soft, almost hurt, like it pained him to think about what he had done. “When you were resting afterwards the nurse asked me if we were going to do a newborn screening. We hadn’t talked about it, but you were so tired and it was such a hard labour…” he swallowed thickly, his voice wavering slightly, remembering the birth. It wasn’t easy by any means and James had often thought that the hardest thing he’d ever had to watch was you in that much pain. “I told her we weren’t going to do it. I just didn’t want Julian to leave and h-he looked so perfect I never thought anything could have been wrong with him.” 

James took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling, “I am a doctor and I didn’t get a newborn screening for my son, what the hell kind of father does that make me?” 

“Oddly enough, I think it makes you a good one,” you admitted. 

“Even though we could have known about this years before? We could have gotten him treatment, medication, therapies, all sooner?” he looked back at you confused. 

“You said it yourself, Jamie. He was perfect for us. Still is.” 

James nodded his head and looked forward at the opposite wall. You stood up and walked over towards him, reaching out a hand to gently hold his face, your thumb brushing against his cheek while he looked at you. 

“I don’t blame you for this,” you whispered. “I don’t blame you and I don’t think you’re a bad father.” 

“I know,” he murmured, “but I do.”

You leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek, not knowing what other comfort you could offer. 

James leaned in a little to your touch, sitting up straighter when it was gone, trying to play it off like he hadn’t been missing it and craving it as much as you. 

You were about to say something when you heard a knock on the washroom door, and this time it had to be Julian. 

“Mom? Dad, are you in here too?” you could hear his small sounding voice, a little strained and worried so you quickly assured him you were both inside and opened the door. 

“Sweetheart, what happened?” you asked, noticing his tear-stained face. 

“I just had a bad dream,” he sniffed and wiped his eyes. 

You kissed away his tears first before assuring him everything would be fine, you and James were there to take care of him. 

“Why don’t you go and lay down on my bed with your Dad?” you suggested. “I’ll get dressed and come join you.” 

Julian nodded and made his way over to your bed while you went to quickly speak to James. 

“It’ll be good for you. Both of you,” you told him. 

“You don’t mind?” 

“Just this once.” 

James thanked you with a kiss to your cheek and left the adjoining washroom, closing the door behind him and giving you a minute to get changed and deal with anything you needed to before going back to bed. 

When you opened the door and came back into your room, you saw James under the covers with Julian pressed close to him, their foreheads resting together while James told him everything was going to be alright and he could go back to sleep. 

You slipped in under the covers, sandwiching Julian between you both, letting his back rest against your chest while you pressed a kiss to his hair. 

One hand was tucked under your pillow and another was draped over Julian, and your fingers carefully placed over top of James’. 

“Will you be here when I wake up?” Julian asked his dad. 

“Right next to you,” he kissed his nose. “Now try to get some sleep, okay?” 

Julian nodded his head and yawned and you whispered a quiet goodnight to bed him and his dad before letting your eyes close, silently smiling when you could feel James’ hand finally hold your own. 

—

“You guys, relax, he’s going to be fine,” Mahlet placed a hand on both yours and James’ shoulders while you spewed out your worries. “It’s one night, I have the whole list of things he needs and I’ve taken care of him before, right? It’s just at my house this time so the boys can have a sleepover and you two can have a bit of a break.” 

“She’s right,” James sighed. “I’m still worried out of my mind, but she’s right.” 

“Mahi, are you sure you don’t want us to come even for a little bit?” you asked. 

“Absolutely, if something happens I’ll call an ambulance and then you, but Julian’s been good for months now, he can survive one night away from home,” she assured you. 

“Thank you, Mahlet. I’m sure Julian and Hennock will have a great time tonight. Just call us when he’s ready to be picked up tomorrow morning,” James said. 

James wrapped his arm around you, giving you a squeeze knowing you were still uneasy about this, but deep down you knew Mahlet was right. The chances of something going wrong at this point were small and you’d had enough time since your last hospital visit to even consider doing something like this. 

“You boys ready?” James called and Julian came rushing out of the room with his bag in hand, Hennock following close behind him. 

“You have fun tonight, okay?” you bent down and gave Julian a kiss. “And if anything happens or you feel sick, or are having trouble breathing, tell Mahlet, okay?” 

“I know, Mom. Dad already told me this like fifteen times,” Julian chuckled. 

You looked up at James and he shrugged. 

“Alright, well you guys better go before I change my mind,” you crossed your arms over your chest and that was all the permission the boys needed to run off, leaving Mahlet to say goodbye before stepping out and closing the door behind her. 

You sighed and turned around, looking at James who had his hands shoved into his pockets. 

“You hungry?” he asked. 

“I could eat,” you nodded your head. 

“Why don’t we make something for dinner together?” he suggested. 

You looked at the clock and smiled, “I think we’ve got enough time for pizza, what do you think?” 

“I think that’s a great plan,” James agreed. “I can start on the dough and you get the sauce and toppings?” 

You gave him a thumbs up before putting your hand out to high-five him, noticing how your fingers so easily intertwined before you walked apart and let go. 

James rolled up his sleeves and took off his watch, placing it on the small jewelry tray you kept by the sink for when you were washing dishes, while you went to the fridge and began pulling out all the things that could make good pizza toppings. 

Moving to the sink to wash some vegetables, you noticed James’ watch resting there. You didn’t pay much attention when he was wearing it, but now you realized why it looked extra familiar. It was one you had gotten him as an anniversary present after your first year married. 

“You still wear that?” you pointed with your eyes to the watch. 

“It’s my favourite watch, of course I wear it,” he nodded while portioning the flour into a large bowl.

“Even with that engraving?” you raised a questioning brow. 

“Dearest Jamie, Here’s to the first of many happy anniversaries. Love forever, Your Wife,” he recited the engraving back to you. 

“I don’t know why you do that to yourself,” you chuckled a little, looking down into the sink. 

“Yeah, well why do you still go by Mrs. Wilson?” 

“Easier to keep the name than change it again,” you partially lied, it wasn’t the full truth, but it was what you had been telling yourself ever since the divorce was finalized. 

James could sense you were lying, but he knew the only way to get you to open up would be to let himself be open with you. 

“The watch is my favourite because you gave it to me. Functionally it sucks and it's uncomfortable, but you went out of your way to get me something that looked nice and that’s why I love it.” 

You smiled a little to yourself, but kept your head facing the sink and continued to wash the vegetables. 

“You’re not going to say anything?” he inquired. 

“Do I have to?” you asked. 

“That’s normally how a conversation works,” he remarked and you chuckled. 

“What do you want me to say?” you asked. 

“Honestly, the real reason why you kept your married name,” he said plainly. 

You sighed, “It wasn’t a full lie. If I went back to my maiden name Julian and I wouldn’t have the same last name it just makes things complicated and confusing and I didn’t want to deal with it, but,” you added, “I always kind of liked the sound of Mrs. Wilson and even though I was pissed at you all the time I still liked that there was one thing aside from Julian connecting us. I don’t know, maybe I didn’t want to end up like Sam or Bonnie just…detached, like there was barely a trace that you were even there.” 

“It’s a fingerprint,” James said. “Mine.” 

“Yeah, even though it's small for who we were to each other, it's the fingerprint you left on my life.” 

James pressed his lips together and opened his mouth to say something before shutting it and evaluated how he was going to speak, 

“Can I ask you something?” he settled on. 

“Sure,” you nodded, moving over to the cutting board and placing yourself on the opposite side of the kitchen island. 

“Did…Did you ever stop loving me?” 

Your smile faltered and James noticed the change in your demeanor, quickly retracting his question. 

“You know what, forget I asked,” he shook his head and continued to knead the dough. 

There was a moment of silence before you spoke again. 

“I didn’t, but I got tired of not being loved back.” 

James stopped what he was doing and looked up at you with concern. 

“You thought I stopped loving you?” he asked.

“James, I was wife number three. Didn’t take much to connect the dots and see you got tired of me,” you said bluntly. “I wanted to know if I could count on you, and it was starting to feel like maybe I couldn’t. Then the divorce happened and everything after that just made me feel like I was right.” 

James chewed on the inside of his cheek and remained silent. 

“You didn’t fight for me,” you said quietly. “You fought for joint custody, but you didn’t fight for me. You just…accepted it.” 

“I…I didn’t know you wanted me to fight for you.” 

“Are you saying you would have?” you asked, unsure of whether or not you wanted to hear his answer. 

“I’m saying I thought I didn’t even have a chance,” he admitted. 

“So you wouldn’t have,” you clarified for him, beginning to chop the toppings into pieces and separate them into bowls. 

He chuckled humourlessly, “I have dated one person since the divorce. I hated it.” 

“Why do you have to talk in puzzles, James? Why can’t you just come out and say what you really mean?” 

“And then what?” he asked. “We go back to living in the same house. Sleep in separate rooms. Move on now that we know the truth?”

“Say it,” you put the knife down and looked him right in the eyes. 

“What are you going to do about it?” he asked, cleaning the dough off his hand. “I’m going to say it and you’re just going to stand there and I have to live with that?” 

You walked around the counter and came right up in front of him. 

“If you were listening to anything I was saying, you would stop making excuses and say it.” 

“Fine!” he threw his hands up in the air. “I still love you. I never stopped loving you. These past few months, even though stressful, have been the happiest I’ve been in so long because I feel like myself again when I’m with you and Julian. Because I feel like your husband, and I feel like a father and I keep kicking myself wondering how I could have been so stupid to lose that.” 

“Say it one more time,” you whispered, lifting your hands to hold onto his face. “Please.” 

“I love you,” his voice was softer, relieved like after being underwater he could finally breathe again. 

You finally pulled him into you, your lips hesitantly resting on his at first, before you found your rhythm again after so long. It was muscle memory, his hands finding the spot they always rested against on your hips, his lips moving in synch with yours, eventually trailing off and finding their favourite spot against your jaw and behind your ear. 

“James,” you breathed. 

“Jamie,” he mumbled against your skin. “Call me Jamie.” 

“Jamie, Jamie, Jamie,” you repeated the nickname until he silenced you with another kiss, muffling your voice. 

“God, I missed you,” he whispered when you pulled apart, breathing heavily due to your fast beating heart. 

You closed your eyes while your forehead rested against his, feeling his nose touch yours, his hands still firmly planted on your hips when your thumbs brushed against his cheeks. 

“Jamie?” 

James snuck another small kiss at the sound of the nickname. 

“Yes, my love.” 

“Can I count on you?” 

You could feel him nod his head and confirm with a verbal ‘yes’. And even if it turned out to be a lie, at that moment you didn’t care. He had proved to you that it was possible, you could work with that. 

“I love you,” you said and kissed his nose and then you said it and kissed him again for good measure. “You told me twice; I tell you twice.” 

James moved his hands up from your hips and brushed the back of his fingers against your cheek, a warm smile coming to his face. 

And there was that look, the one you thought had vanished over time. His eyes fully transfixed on you with nothing but love and admiration. It didn’t take much to convince yourself you could get used to seeing that look for a long, long time. 

TAGLIST —

@cuntyvicodin @paola-carter

[soapoet]

describing the dynamic...

...a requested continuation of this post.

like & rb if it resonates ♡

01.

Shufflemancy: First day of my life by Bright Eyes

This feels like home. It is familiar and it is sweet. The two of you create an air of comfort, which draws in various orphans of the storm. Like a safe haven amidst stormy seas. A lighthouse. This has the blueprint of starting a found family. Your union echos with lots of laughter, the kind that brings tears and stomachaches. The joy here is tangible and it is imprinted in everything. Your dynamic is like an evolved version of puppy love. It's nervous, but adoring. Giddy and rosy. It feels like best friends falling in love. They know you and you know them at a deep level. The foundation upon which this relationship stands could withstand hurricanes, though there isn't much to worry about. Most issues that crop up seem a little silly, and you may laugh about them afterwards. Personal doubts and misunderstandings are the worst that can happen here, which are mostly due to the doglike loyalty and care you have for one another. Ever seen the face of a pooch when they've done something they shouldn't have? They appear so sheepish even though their mistake or mischief really isn't all that bad or serious. We often laugh at our beloved pets when they appear so apologetic because it is so often wildly out of proportion for their actual crime. The same applies to this relationship. Doubts may occasionally become bigger in your heads and cause a similar out of proportion shame or guilt or concern about how the other will react. Many inside jokes may stem from these situations, actually. Despite the occasional and shortlived whirlwind of doubt and concern about the status of the relationship, your communication is very good and open and clear. You might both simply have a hard time expressing yourselves when it comes to negative feelings and experiences, likely stemming from your upbringing. Which brings me to the point of healing. A key feature of this relationship is just that. Healing. The two of you treat each other the way you wish you had been treated growing up. As though you are raising each other's wounded inner child in a much better, loving, and attentive environment. There is a lot of validation and tenderness present. The reciprocation is beautifully balanced. When one is feeling low, the other takes on a guardian role, comforting and supporting them in various ways. Need a doctor's appointment but you're too anxious to call? Your partner gotchu. Next time they're ill you'll be making them soup and wrapping them up in a blanket. The give and take feels natural, like neither of you need to think twice about it, and best of all: nobody's keeping score.

02.

Shufflemancy: High heels by Mando Diao

Once this one gets going, it's long distance, not a sprint. Considering the delays this relationship experiences before it begins, however, the steady movement doesn't feel slow at all. And although this relationship is very spontaneous and fun, there is a balancing act at play wherein plans for the future are made early on. They want to make sure you're both on the same page and have an idea of where the relationship is headed right from the start to avoid conflicting ideas later. There are some traditional elements to this relationship because they lead a busy life professionally. Plans may be made to have you stay at home once things get serious, though they are very supportive of any business ideas you come up with or already have when you enter into the relationship. This person values ambition and drive, probably just as much as you do, and is very supportive of any endeavours you decide to pursue, and is likely to help fund or network to boost your success.

Expect frequent date nights. This person enjoys romance and works hard to keep the spark alive, so long as they don't feel smothered. When given the space and time they love to shower you with gifts and make you feel special. Travelling also figures strongly, and you may cross many destinations off your bucket list with this person. They favour quality over quantity, though, and may make it a point to spend big bucks on a resort for an extended period of time to really make the most of the destination and the time you get to spend together. It's possible the two of you eventually purchase a second home somewhere you like to visit. The two of you enjoy a rich social life as well, and may frequently entertain people in your home or at different venues. Your energy is contagious and other people are naturally drawn to the two of you because of the fun and welcoming energy created by your union. I'm not seeing much in terms of issues, mostly because the element of fun is so strong here. It feels very balanced because each of you gets to be in your favoured energy and feel appreciated for what you bring to the relationship. Very strong mutual respect. Each of you seem to succeed in life and your careers and projects better because the other is by your side. Reaching higher and farther because of the support of the other. This has an air of'us against the world', as though you are building an empire together. Your success is very new-money and modern. Flashy and extravagant, but still down-to-earth and humble in a way in which you really count your blessings and have much gratitude for what you have together and where you came from. The two of you may help or give back to your community, or donate to charity. It's possible they pay off your family's mortgage or do some other big financial gesture towards your family after the two of you commit. There is a lot of passion in this relationship. Very flirty, and there is a strong sexual attraction. The two of you make each other laugh a lot and may pull pranks on each other. Check out Destene and Brandon on youtube, because their dynamic mirrors this group a lot!

03.

Shufflemancy: Mary on a cross by Ghost

This is the one that will feel like things are too good to be true. You will want for nothing. The dynamic here is almost that of a knight and the one they have sworn to protect, or the royal and the peasant they chose for love. There is much adoration here, and it feels old-timey in a way. If you have been kissing frogs before, this one will really surprise you. They enjoy traditional courting and may look down upon the modern era of dating and the attitudes surrounding it, and don't like most of the people making them offers. They also appear to compensate for time spent apart through lavish gifts, and making sure you have everything that you need. There are a lot of calls and messages being sent back and forth, especially during their time away. They're very supportive of your studies or the projects you're working on, and will do everything in their power to create a good environment for you to do what you need to do. There is a strong possibility of them asking you to accompany them on their business travels, in an effort to help the two of you spend more quality time together. You have an energy that differs so much from what they have to deal with in their professional life, and they derive a big boost of motivation and confidence from it. It is almost as though they see you as their lucky charm.

The primary cause of friction appears to come from outside the relationship. You may frequently receive strange looks when you're together, or the way you differ somehow causes tension amongst your partner's peers. They, however, are incredibly proud of you and encourage you to speak your mind and stay true to yourself. They think you're perfect and don't want you to change, especially not through pressure from the kinds of people they find shallow or even fake. There could be instances where people try to steal your partner, but they fail horribly because of your partner's devotion to you. This can also go the other way, wherein people begin to pursue you in an attempt to steal you away from your partner, as if to spite them. You may receive invitations, offers, and gifts from people, especially ones you meet through your partner. This reveals a jealous streak in your partner which is very prevalent, but not in a toxic or controlling way. Because they have such social grace and know how to play the game, they never target you with their jealousy and dismay, but those who try to get in between. They are protective of what's theirs, but are very graceful and strategic in their methodology of solving problems. This also lends itself well to any wrinkles that need ironing in the relationship, because they don't appear to get angry and have a mentality that it's not you vs. them, but the two of you vs. the problem.

This dynamic may sometimes lead to waking up alone, but there is sure to be a lovely note left behind, or they may send flowers. They like to let you sleep in, and find you to be at your most beautiful when you're asleep because of the serene look on your face. You really help them feel at peace, which is something quite difficult for them to achieve on their own. They have trouble relaxing or doing things without it somehow boosting their qualifications or adding to their resume. You help them pick out books to read just because, watch movies regardless of their acclaim and accolades, go thrifting for the fun of it or visit the sweet little side street boutiques and unknown cafés. They really just feel like they have access to more oxygen when you're around, as though they've spent their whole life holding their breath and they can breathe easily and deeply around you.

04.

Shufflemancy: Me the machine by Imogen Heap

There is a whole lot going on here mentally. The two of you spend a lot of time talking, for hours upon hours. "Is that the sun?" can become a frequent phrase used when time slips through your fingers as you talk the night away to watch the sunrise. The two of you love to debate, especially in regards to matters you agree on, because it seems you reach the same conclusion from different angles and enjoy discussing each other's detours. They love picking your brain and value your opinions. There is a bit of a hopeless romantic in them, which may catch you off guard every time due to their cerebral nature. They might leave you notes or share songs to express their feelings. To them you are an equal, a missing puzzle piece that helps them see the bigger picture. You two are like the seeker and the explorer. They like holding hands and being close to you, but seem a little hesitant, even months into the relationship. You are certainly the more open and affectionate one, whilst they tend to be a little shy. Their awkwardness is quite charming, though, because they do try their best to show their love and support. Support plays a big role here, too, as they have a lot to teach you in various areas of life and you will grow quite a bit during this relationship. They are an excellent mentor and encourage you to chase your dreams, but are also good at holding you accountable. They can be a little blunt and clumsy with their words, but they mean well and wish for you to be the best that you can be and never sell yourself short. They really won't let anybody talk down on you, least of all you yourself. They have very high standards so any self-loating on your part feels insulting to them. They wouldn't date you if they didn't think you were incredible.

They enjoy your company and express genuine interest in your thoughts and ideas. You share many interests and engaging in them together is a big part of this relationship. You two are stronger together and can face many hardships with greater ease due to how you complete one another. Not in that you aren't whole on your own, but that your individual strengths and weaknesses balance each other out. Where you lack, they're abundant, and vice versa. It really makes for a dynamic duo, albeit one that may from the outside appear mismatched or peculiar. That does not stop you, though, and they especially have very little care for what other people think. The two of you may collaborate on various projects, or work together towards both joint and separate goals. Your minds and talents blend beautifully together, and your relationship is potent with inspiration and motivation. Tackling difficult tasks and the daily grind appears easier when you can delegate things depending on your individual strengths. The source of strife mostly stems from misunderstandings. Both of you value communication, but on occasion words are left unsaid or too much is said without prior thought and one of you gets hurt. This does not seem to ever be on purpose, just accidental slip-ups and thoughtlessness.

05.

Shufflemancy: Boys do cry by Marius Bear

Which one of you brought the gasoline? The dynamic here is hot and heavy. Passionate, as though desperation and need is causing you to crawl into each other's skin and wear each other's hearts. It can get a little crazy, fast paced and wild, in most things that you do. And you may get into quite a bit of trouble together, too. When Billie Eilish said 'I'm the powder, you're the fuse; let's add some friction' the two of you were taking notes. There is a lot of push and pull, and the relationship contains a lot of drama. Though I don't feel like that is wholly unwelcome, strangely enough. It seems beneficial for the two of you to keep each other on your toes, like you both crave some explosive feelings to feel fulfilled. This relationship really isn't for the faint of heart. But whilst others watch in horror, you make each other feel alive in this almost feral dance. They are very protective of you, and you of them. It's like you give each other scary dog privilege because nobody else can swoop in to steal a heart while the other stands on watch. You're both a little possessive, but it boils down to the deep connection you have feeling so intertwined with the very cores of your beings that losing the other would feel like losing yourself. Definitely worth checking yourselves for co-dependency to be sure it does not go overboard, but so long as you keep your individuality intact, this one is one hell of a ride. A ride or die, in fact. You are truly partners in crime and feel dangerously powerful together, like you could take over the world and overcome anything.

I won't sugar coat this: there is a lot of turmoil that the both of you conjure up. Most of the issues in this dynamic stem from the heightened emotions you are both capable of, and if either of you start wielding them as weapons it will cause even more explosive emotions. I will say, though, that this only gets physical in the make up part of the show, as the actual strife is emotional and verbal in nature. Because you care a lot for each other, neither would dare lay a hand on the other. The thought of you getting hurt by them or anyone or anything else would upset them greatly, and it's the same in reverse. You mirror each other a lot, and have much to learn from each other. Much of it will feel heavy and burdensome since you will be facing your own demons within the other person, and that's never easy. Fortunately there is a lot of gentle care here, too. Since you both feel things so strongly and have similar experiences in life, it is much easier for you to sympathise with each other and support each other. This is one of those relationships where you truly do not need to hide or be on your best behaviour, because you have both weathered storms and do not easily flinch when the thunder and lightning begin to roar, and you both provide each other shelter when needed.

06.

Shufflemancy: Light by Sleeping at last

I remember seeing a writing prompt once upon a time with the premise of seeing in greyscale until you lock eyes with your soulmate, and this has that exact energy. It really seems as though this person lead a very monotonous life until you barged in, inviting the sunshine into their life. Because in many ways they view you as the light of their life, they are very protective of you. You bring them much joy, laughter, and relaxation, all things they do very little of, at least successfully, and find themselves more able to partake in the joys of life in your presence. You are a breath of fresh air, as though someone finally opened up a window inside a stuffy office. They see stars in your eyes and they want nothing more than to preserve them, and make them shine even brighter. There is a little bit of a saviour complex here. Anything you struggle with they don an armour for to protect and to serve. Because you nurture their soul and heal their wounds with your tender love and care and expand their horizons with your sense of wonder, they feel compelled to take care of you. It feels almost familial, but not in a weird way. It is as if they want to keep your childlike wonder alive and well, and right any wrongs that come your way. They take a load off your shoulders frequently, and may especially take on all your mundane tasks and paperwork. They love your playful energy and can see that the stuffy stressors of life cage that bird in, and they want to see you soar. This is a very healing connection for both of you. You balance each other out whilst being a mentor for each other, teaching each other your strengths so that you two can feel whole and capable all in your own right. You are both willing to bend, to try new things, allow the other to show you new worlds and explore possibilities. Very likely to lead to marriage, and it would be a very happy and functional one because of the growth you inspire in one another both as individuals and together as one. It's like your relationship begins as a little sapling, slow, but once it has been given the space to grow it grows big and strong and will withstand any storm and leave behind a legacy, like your future children putting up a swing for their children on the tree you two once sowed.

[mire-7viii]

When the message is that people often "choose" prostitution because there's no safe alternative, you are describing the absence of choice. The core of the problem.

The solution is not to make that choice more bearable, but to create better options. People prefer focussing on minimising the damage instead rather than drawing a line. It is nothing short of putting a bandaid on a severed limb. It's better to help prostituted women get out of that industry entirely. Any others who choose to prostitute themselves are uniquely privileged in who their clients are, what they do, who they work for, and when they can exit the industry. They are the minority in prostitution, pornography, cam-work and strip clubs.

While in contact with humans and/or their fluids, every other profession (doctors, dentists, nail techs, kitchen workers, etc.) mandates their employees (sometimes the clients/patients also) to wear sanitized and protective gear.

Prostitutes are not allowed these protective measures because it does not appeal to the client. Prostitutes could get permanently blinded when their clients ejaculate in their eyes, for example, and they're not allowed protective gear for their eyes when the client can see her face or when she's on camera. The clients are not wearing condoms. They're paying people to put themselves in harm's way for their gratification.

Prostitutes are uniquely at risk far more than any other profession for the sole benefit of the client and safer care is just a soothing balm on the conditions of prostitution. With how often they're in contact with human fluids, they would be wearing hazmat suits in any other environment. However, they need to look aesthetically pleasing, so they cannot have illnesses reliably prevented or the risk minimised.

A better bandaid is for their clients to always wear protection and that they need to be screened for illnesses beforehand, as well as leave behind their contact information in case something goes wrong, that is not happening because of privacy laws and because of their preferences as consumers: they want their needs met, not the safety of their "worker." You only need to listen to interviews with sex buyers and with frequent pornography engagement to know this to be true.

The way people describe healthcare in the face of legal prostitution feels too little too late. While well-intended, the truth is that the "workplace" of prostitution is inherently dangerous and no medicine afterwards cannot change the fact that any damage already happened. "Sex worker" are less similar to the working people and more similar to gladiators of whom the majority were slaves who fought, often to death or permanent injury, for the entertainment of the privileged.

Prostitution is not like any other job. If it were, then things like familial relationships would not reveal the contradiction.

Someone, I forget who I'm sorry, already said it better than I can, but if prostitution was the same as any other job, then having your parent, an uncle, your adult child, or a cousin as a client would not be an immediate problem.

It, however, clearly is a problem.

While having a family member as a client in any other field can be uncomfortable, perhaps a bit embarrassing. Your emotions might get in the way of doing the best you can, say, for example, as an attorney or a mortician. However, having a family member as a client in prostitution is inherently different. We know instinctively that sex is intimacy, not a service or any other form of labour, no matter the price tag you place on it.

In sex and sexual acts, you are in a territory of mutual respect and mutual consent. Once the money is on the table, it becomes a negotiation, coercion, you are buying or renting and the product is a human being. It is presenting something to a person to persuade them into being intimate in a way they would otherwise not be willing to do for free.

It is in no way the same as someone not liking their job, how they labour or provide a service in exchange for financial aid. None of those involve intimacy. In fact, while not always perfectly adhered to, sexual harassment is prohibited at work, something women had to advocate for it to be considered an offense at all.

In prostitution, in "sex work," letting sexual harassment happen is "the job."

This also raises questions about the increase of human trafficking and substance abuse in places where prostitution is already legal, such as The Netherlands, Belgium, and Germany. Legalisation has arguably made it more difficult to stop illegal pimps and operations: as long as the prostituted people don't outright endanger themselves by explicitly stating they're trafficked or abused, the government cannot act on suspicions. After all, it is legal. It also makes it easier to trick vulnerable people and children because they're told they're just working. It takes only a few interviews to understand children are groomed this way as well. If clients even care, they too can easily be convinced they're renting or buying a non-trafficked, legal prostitute.

While I agree no prostitute, cam-worker, stripper, or whoever falls under "sex work" should be penalised or criminalised, making the industries legal helps no one.

The Nordic Model ("sex workers" are not targeted by law enforcement but those with whom they do business are) is a far better option. Creating safe and good alternatives for those considering prostitution or "sex work," especially for those escaping the industry, is a far better option.

By advocating for legal "sex work" you may think you are listening to "sex workers," but you are catering to a privileged group within a devastating industry that destroys lives globally. While you think you're being kind, you are silencing the marginalised majority trapped in an industry you don't understand.

The sex industry is incompatible with humanity.

If someone is free to choose "sex work," they are equally free to choose anything else that does not perpetuate harm for those less fortunate than them.

[chai-berries]

i’m a little crybaby bitch & i just sobbed over a movie but all i could think about is being abby’s little crybaby gf & having her comfort me </3

sooo unfortunately/fortunately i am not a big crier when it comes to anything but one of my best friends is a happy/sad/bored crier and i’ve helped her calm down post cry a few times. she’s a true cancer <3 i’ll channel her into my thoughts.

im thinking of two scenarios, watching something sad without abby & watching it with her ⤵️

watching without abby:

she’d probably be working on something in another room when you decide to start a sad fucking movie. abby’s ears perk at the first sniffle, but she brushes it off cause it’s always allergy season. but when she hears you shakily breathe out “oh,,, my gOD” with your voice all broken and wet, she’s immediately sliding to a stop right outside the living room. you’re curled up with a huge blanket swallowing you, surrounded by snacks and your emotional support water bottle. she notes your wide, glossy eyes and coos “baby what’s wrong?” and you gesture at the tv, “she - she just loves her family so so much! and she couldn’t tell them before they died!” your voice is cracking around your words.

abby has absolutely no idea who “she” is but that doesn’t keep her from sitting down and pulling you into her side, rubbing her hand up and down your arm. “they’re just a - a great family” you stutter though tears. abby looks up at the tv and sighs. “baby, why did you chose the saddest movie on netflix?” you hesitate. “uh, i was up to the challenge?” “yeah? how’s it going?” she quirks a brow at you. you laugh wetly and abby mentally fist pumps. she presses a kiss to your temple. “okay, how about we watch something happy. ill refill your water.” abby gets up to go into the kitchen when she’s stopped by a tug on her back belt loop. you’re looking up at her, eyes less glossy but still not dry enough. “what?” she asks. “thanks for putting up with a crybaby for a girlfriend.” she picks up your hand from its place at her waist and brings it up to her lips. “anything for you sweet cheeks”

watching with abby:

“no, no, no, nah, not happening! abby, please tell me they’re not gonna do what i think they’re gonna do!” you pause the movie and shake abby’s shoulder, your face so serious in the light of the television. abby giggles and shrugs like a fucking twerp and nudges you to keep watching the movie. she tells you that “you’ll find out soon - keep watching” like she’s never, in all the time you’ve been together, been witness to the millions of times you deep dived imdb and wikipedia five minutes into a movie whenever it starts out with a sad scene.

you don’t do sad movies. and it’s for a good reason! you get all dehydrated and you look sick for hours afterwards!! it’s embarrassing and gross!! abby has witnessed it once and, like her father’s daughter, handed you a glass of water and pulled you gently into her arms, holding you until you got your breathing under control. and that was a week before you asked her out!! on your first date she told you that the crying thing made her want to “take care of you forever”… is it too obvious to point out that she soooooo got lucky that night?

however, in present time she might be sleeping on the couch for trying to get a depressing movie past you. she apologizes to you, tucking you under her arm. “i promise it’s gonna be worth your tears, okay?” she kisses your head. “and i always take care of my crybaby girlfriend, don’t i?” she kisses the same spot again. you relax into her side.

… sooo it’s safe to say you sobbed a whole lot at the end and completely soaked the front of abby’s shirt. you guys had shifted horizontal mid-movie, you laying on top of her. “i hate you” sounds a lot more honest when you’re not desperately clutching at the waist of the person you’re talking to. “but it was a good story, right?? aww i’m sooo sorry, baby,” abby rubs your back. she hands you your water bottle and chocolate before you even think to ask, like she always does. then, you begin the embarrassingly to you cute to abby process that involves sips of water, bites of chocolate, and your head following the rhythm of abby’s chest up and down as you match her breaths.

<\3

no but really we all know abby will always comfort you even if she has no context to what you’re crying about! ride or die babyyyy

[kk43mi]

HII I LOVE YOUR POSTS SO MUCH

Can i order a somno with scaramouche x fem reader where he sees her pure and innocent form and then completely looses himself to the look of you?

Thank you for reading this and if i can, could i be the 🐑anon?

yas sheep anon! writing is so hard so this one is kind of rusheddd , but dont get me wrong I did try! hope you enjoy anon

purity┊scaramouche

PAIRING ┊ scaramouche x f!reader GENRE ┊ smut WC ┊1.5k+ WARNINGS ┊ cussing , i will call wanderer, scaramouche! , somnophilia , non-con , stalking , lowercase intended!!! SYNOPSIS ┊ selling baked goods , always trying to serve the best customer service to your buyers , there would always be a regular coming. little do you know that buyer always had impure thoughts of you. A/N ┊ written by kam , hope you guys enjoy ! also modern-au (?) im sorry if this one isnt really goooddd, sorry for the delay too!!

you were a baker girl, always selling fresh pastries and doing the best you can to serve the best customer service for your buyers. you had the best bread in sumeru and people loved it! you were practically well known for them.

you would see regulars here and there, always loving to talk with them whenever they came to stop by to grab something to eat on the go. but this customer you had, came most than others.

scaramouche, he came almost everyday...maybe twice that day. however, you found solace in his tranquil company, occasionally deriving enjoyment from his presence. yet, deciphering the thoughts occupying his mind proved to be a bit challenging, not that it really mattered to you.

"hello! the usual?" you would always flash that smile of yours to him while waving. he gave a small nod. you would prepare his order, before presenting it to him in a neatly arranged plastic bag.

scaramouche grabs the bag, your hand slightly grazes his and he flinched. "bye! hope you enjoy!" scara nods and pays you before leaving the store. walking back to his abode, his face brightens up with a red.

"she touched me...she touched me..." repeatedly saying , that scene would always reminisce in his mind, wanting to feel that touch again. your hands are so soft, he sometimes thinks you were made for him.

how did this even start? it's quite simple. nahida suggested scara to try out this new place, a way to try and socialize and experience more taste buds! naturally, he harbored no intentions of consuming it himself. however, since nahida also expressed an interest, he set out to purchase it.

walking in the building where the bread nahida desired was settled in, he waits at the line, groaning in annoyance, too noisy, and too crowded. he was never a fan of clustered places. as the line shortens its finally his turn.

"one moment sir!" a voice from the other room can be heard. and scara waits, observing his surroundings a bit before a figure pops out of his view from the side, turning his head, his gazes intertwined with yours, and its as if its the most breathtaking thing hes ever saw. you.

"hi! sorry for the wait! im currently the only one working here so things are quite tough to get around!" you let out a chuckle afterwards. his mouth was slightly agape, no words leaving his mouth as he kept his gaze at you. your voice flows as smoothly as a captivating melody, and the grace of your countenance is truly majestic. "soo, what would you like..?"

"the...the special." he said in a quiet tone before shifting his hat to cover his top half face. "got it! ill pack it up for you right now!" before grabbing the tong and picking up the freshly made bakes.

did you always have that smile on your face? it was beautiful yet he felt the need to want to wipe that smile off your face, wanting to ruin it. the thoughts getting to him...were a bit too wild now. realizing it himself he shakes those thoughts away.

"here you go sir! i made sure to pack them nice and neat so they dont get all over the place." there you go again. flashing that smile. he snatched the bag and paid for what was needed. "enjoy your bread!" you yelled out as scara was already out the front door.

its been months now ever since that encounter. its like a spark awoken in him. he would want to see what your face would look like, covered in his cum. he would want to see you cock drunk, always begging for him to pleasure you more and more. he couldnt get enough, his hand wasnt enough. he needed the real thing.

when you were done with your shift, you close down the shop, packing up the left over bakes for you to take home and eat. turning off all lights before locking the entrance. of course how would scara get to see you if he didnt know your schedule?

he studied what you do everyday, what time you work, your breaks, and when you end. even knows the direction to your house. sure he didnt have the courage to just talk to you normally other than just ordering plain old bread is what he would describe.

locking up your shop, you now advance to your house. walking while the streets were quiet, though, sumeru was quite safe, so you didnt worry about anything! but little did you know scara was in the shadows, following you, admiring everything you do. sure you heard a couple footsteps, but shrugged it off as a dog or what.

reaching to your humble abode, you take your keys, unlocking the door before turning the knob to enter. but it didnt matter to scara, he knew which rooms was yours, going to the window associated to your room, he watches as you enter in, flicking on the light as you now took off your pants.

you were a "home is where the pants arent" type of person. it felt more relaxing to dress down indoors, especially since you were alone – the comfort of solitude made you feel relaxed at last, after a long day of serving and selling, you were exhausted. scara would always enjoy the view of your panties shaping out your ass.

the wild thoughts occupying his mind again, wanting to stuff his fat cock inside your cunt, pounding into you mercilessly until you couldnt walk for days. different positions, never stopping until you pass out. these thoughts accompanying his mind, a growing tent forms in his pants.

taking a hand to shift the harden shaft around to ease the pain. it was just aching to get out of his pants. he couldnt wait till you have fallen asleep, then he would do whatever he could to you.

charging your phone then being in the comforts in your bed, tucking yourself in before closing your eyes, falling into a deep slumber. taking this opportunity, he picks the window, before sliding it to the side to jump in. making sure his footsteps were light as a feather to not wake you up.

scara observes the room, inhaling the room that was covered in your sweet scent. looking at your sleeping figure, he comes closer, to admire your beautiful face. hopping onto the bed to have a better view. "fuck.." he couldnt contain his excitement any longer as he rubs a finger on the outline of your cunt.

making you wince a bit, he slides the panties to the side, looking at your bare cunt now. the sight makes him drool, wanting to devour it already. but it has seem his dick was really impatient. twitching in place already with precum on the tip staining his pants with a wet patch.

unzipping the jeans, his dick springs to life, hard and erect before he glides it against your folds. the sensation makes him grunt in pleasure, your heat making his body shudder before lining himself up to your hole. bottoming out when he fully sheathed himself with your walls. he harbored an intense desire to shatter your innocence.

groans falls from his mouth as he tried to contain them in order to not wake you up. his breath quivered, and at last, he began to stir. snapping his hips at yours, skin slapping skin echoing thru the room. his pace was rough, the feeling of you walls clasping around him felt so pleasurable to him.

balls slapping against your ass and his thumb pleasuring your clit. he was too focus on your pussy to even notice his pounding was harsh, it could wake you up. but he took the risk, trying to reach his high. thrusting turning sharper and harder each time his body connected with yours if that was even possible, it left little whines from your mouth, making scara more eager than ever to continue.

he couldnt hold it in anymore, his moans escaped his lips, grabbing your soft mounds to massage the flesh, and another hand, under your knee to push it up for a better angle. he was in so deep, pounding, thrusting, and pearls of sweat falls down from his forehead. taking his phone out from his pockets, pressing the record button. making sure your pussy and his dick disappearing into you was in view.

feeling your walls tighten around him, he figured you were bound to cum soon. his thrust getting sloppier and pace was slower, he continued on, wanting to reach his limit, and inject his cum into you. hes imagining more vulgar things he would do to you. sex up against the wall? yes. you tied up while he eats you out? of course. him fisting your hair and fuck facing you? thats his favorite.

minutes passed and he was close, and with one final push and groan, he cums inside your pussy. gasps and pants emitting from his lips as he tried to regain himself. he stilled himself in you for a bit before pulling out, cum gushing from your pussy and pooling under the sheets.

he smiles at the sight before his dick scoops up the remaining cum, fucking it back into you. a couple more breathless pants before he moved his hips again. this sure was going to be a long night.

the next day you would wonder why there was a strange smell from the sheets, and why your thighs were sticky.

requests open!

[pinkies-senses]

Bittersweet apples 🍏

Sweet apple acres was quiet, an odd scene for that piece of land as it was filled to the brim with juicy red fruits. Perfect for the taking, and yet… left untouched.

Each tree stood strong, bearing apples in different sizes and slightly different shapes. At this point, Apple Jack and Big Mac would’ve been hard at work, bucking those ripe fruits out of their leafy beds and into hoof crafted baskets.

But that quiet noon, in that vibrant green orchard, held a great unease.

The clouds were shifting in panic despite their schedule, likely the Pegasus’ doing, but Apple Jack barely paid mind to the unusual weather.

Not with the poorly hidden sobs from her younger sister filling her sensitive ears.

…And that viscous sensation that was drying and crusting on the fur of her back legs…

Apple Jack trailed behind a covered wagon that was being pulled by her older brother, Big Mac, with little Apple Bloom inside.

Despite the big wagon, it was light with very little inside.

Apple Bloom, some packages of food and tanks of water were jostled around slightly due to the uneven, gravelly road the three ponies were taking. Other than that (minus the sobbing), it was quiet.

None of them wished to speak, not after the tragedy that was forcefully bestowed on the recently. The metaphorical wounds were still fresh, as fresh as the crimson that tainted Apple Jack.

Her deep emerald eyes were locked onto the back of the Wagon, empty and void. Her throat tightened so bitterly, she knew the moment she spoke, her words would come out strained and painful.

So she let her mind get lost in the numbness inside of her, leaving her with nothing to think of.

A blank slate.

The sniffles halted momentarily, but still present before a weak voice called out from the wagon.

“…Big Mac… where are we goin’?”

Big Mac didn’t seem to hear the small voice behind him over his own thoughts and hoof beats against the dirt, so Apple Jack sucked up her pain and desire to not speak.

“Evacuatin’.” Was all Apple Jack said.

She heard a little hoof scrap against the wagon’s floor, likely her sister moving to get up, before she saw the reddened misty eyes peek through the wagon covering.

“But… why? A-and where? … Because you killed Granny?” Her voice, although mournful and tired, held animosity and anger.

“APPLE BLOOM!” Apple Jack yelled in disbelief and fury.

“How DARE-“ but before she could finish her sentence, Big Mac’s booming voice quickly dashed out fire was starting between the two sisters.

“ENOUGH OUT OF BOTH OF YOU.”

A quiet hush fell over all of them, only the gravel beneath their wheels and hooves acting as background noise.

The silence from him afterward was as deafening as his sudden outburst. Apple Jack and Apple Bloom knew that their usual mute brother only spoke a complete sentence when he felt he needed to or if he was incredibly upset.

It wasn’t too long before the red pony grunted out another response to the two.

“Apple Jack did what she did to save you. Granny was sick-“

“She wasn’t hurtin’ nopony, Big Mac-“ Apple Bloom protested but was interrupted by her older brother.

“She. Was. Ill. Apple Bloom. Of course she wasn’t trying to hurt nopony, but her sickness would have killed you too.” He said gruffly.

“But…” Apple Bloom started before giving up silently.

“Apple Jack.”

The said pony stared into the wagon, trying to stare into the back of her brother’s head.

“She’s still a filly. She don’t understand what is happenin’. She just watched our granny die.”

“Big Mac…”

“Apple Bloom needs to know what’s goin’ on, you can’t just kill somepony and not elaborate.”

Big Mac paused a moment before finishing his lecture.

“Later when we find a place to settle, you and I will have a talk. Alone.”

For the first time in hours, a gentle gust of wind rustled the apple trees. The three of them were silent once more.

Apple Jack opened and closed her mouth… before repeating the process three more times.

What more would there be to discuss? What could Apple Jack say to any of this?

The tragedy of having to forcefully take her own mother figure’s life was a hard blow to her already, but the way her little sister spoke to her as though she was some rabid animal for doing so…

What was there to say to that?

To be continued….

[the-s1lly-corner]

May I request some EJ x sick reader?

Eyeless Jack x sick!reader

i think i might have written this before but imma answer this anyway since uhuhuhuh!!! i miss writing for eyeless jack </3 i know this is a multi fandom blog, so creepypasta requests being... not the main ones coming in... is expected but boy do i miss them notes: reader is gn, unspecified sickness cw: mentions of vomit and general sickness

hes not much of a cook, and the need to learn how to cook hasnt really presented itself given he doesnt need to eat human food... but he would be lying if he said he didnt start making food for you every now and then- so hes not totally helpless when hes making soup for you to give your body something to work with while youre bedridden

cant taste the soup for seasoning :( his sense of taste is a little altered, or at least different than yours

very stern with keeping you in bed, too, unless you need to get up to go to the bathroom or to throw up hes going to (gently) push you back into the mattress if you try to crawl out

not all that worried about getting sick himself, something about his body not being built the same as your average person... that being said he is very cold, so if youre already shivering its best he doesnt crawl into bed

on the other hand hes great to have around if youre getting a little overheated with your fever!

does his best to try to find out what exactly you have so he knows how to best treat you- his med student brain is starting to kick in

if he needs to leave for one reason or another he leaves behind his jacket so you have something of his to keep your loneliness at bay... it vaguely smells like rain and blood... if you werent so ill you'd tease him for being messy

would hold your hair back as you throw up and clean you up afterwards

[bloodyinkandquill]

Katana x audhd reader!

(audhd is autism and adhd)

did my best to be accurate to katana’s character while including many common autistic and adhd traits/problems for reader!

- Katana absolutely does not treat you any different due to your neurodivergence, and does his best to be accommodating and not to baby you for them either

- He’s very blunt and direct with his way of speaking which is a relief for you as most people aren’t as direct and it’s so confusing, however he gives double meanings to words like corruption and evil but he’s completely understanding if he needs to explain what they mean to you multiple times because you don’t understand (honestly i can’t fully tell what half of the symbolic shit he says means)

- Thanks to his mask you don’t need to make eye contact, it’s great, he prefers to wear it wherever he is, he doesn’t enjoy seeing his face as it gives him too many bad memories, but you try and be there and understand it, even if he doesn’t wanna burden you with all he’s gone through

- Since cafe trio (what i call shuriken, vine staff, and slingshot) are close to Katana you become close with them too, however they can be kind of loud and overwhelming so he understands if you get overstimulated and need to take a break form them, he does sometimes too, they apologize afterwards for it and even if they struggle if they’re too overwhelming for you they try and be more calm around you since you’re Katana’s partner and they like him and by extension like you

- He loves listening to you info dump, he’s more quiet but hearing others talk about what they’re passionate about makes him happy, so rant to him all you want, he’ll listen attentively and ask questions

- Likely being taller than you as he’s 6’8 he enjoys holding you, that is if you enjoy physical touch, if not he respects that and doesn’t touch you unless he asks and gets permission, he understands as he also is more reserved about being touched by others

- Katana would probably take you drinking with him and Hyperlaser if you asked, neither would mind if you drank alcohol or not, but depending on where they drank sometimes it’s a lot more stimulating, they’re more calm and quiet opposed to if they go to a proper bar where people are chatting loudly and tv’s are all around, if you do join him and get too socially exhausted and need to leave early he and Hyperlaser understand even if they are a little bummed to have their time cut short

- If someone’s ableist towards you and you can’t/don’t want to handle it he will gladly take over and put that person in their place, he cares about you so much and hates seeing people treating you differently just because of your neurodivergencies

- Plans dates for you two if you hate making choices, just verifies it’s alright with you first, and makes sure your not masking when you say sure to his ideas, if you do enjoy planning stuff he lets you do it as it brings you joy and he just wants you to be happy

- If you sometimes go non-verbal Katana can accommodate you very well, I like to imagine he knows sign language so if you know it you can use that to communicate with him, if not he teaches you enough words to communicate with him effectively while you can’t speak

these are centered around reader being audhd so if someone wants general katana x reader hcs please let me know! (when trying to type the exclamation mark i somehow opened my emojis and put the fucking ape emoji (🦧) and lost my shit) i also did my best to be inclusive to the different kinds of ways that both adhd and autism present and not just the way they present in me (idk if i’m audhd or just autistic) and to not be stereotypically since it’s so ingrained in our society unfortunately, just like the ghostwalker one if i have any other thoughts in the next day ill add them!

[je5hko]

~ Beavis and Butthead headcanons!~

okay so i decided ill will post bnbh headcanons from time to time when im not posting art. The headcanons are random btw

TW: GAY PPL(/j), ANGST, GROSS STUFF, ABUSE, HOMOPHOBIA

Beavis eats his boogers, while Butthead has his own personal booger wall (behind the couch)

When they were kids, they would try to cheer each other up/ distract each other from their mothers yelling by making funny faces! Occasionally they would tickle each other as well!

Buttheads mother was absent most of the time, but when she was around she would ignore him. Refusing to believe he was her son. She would even tell him to stop calling her mom. (sobbing afterwards) But whenever Butthead cried, he received a slap on the face. "You are not allowed to cry” or "I’ll give you a reason to cry if you don’t shut up” is all she would say after hitting him. He quickly learned that expressing emotions is wrong, so he simply stopped.

Shirley on the other hand, would look after both of the kids. She was far from being a perfect mother, but there were times she would try to take care of them apart of being drunk all day. For example she occasionally would take them out to eat junk food, give them small presents like cheap action figures, making a vague attempt at showing affection. Basically trying her best at motherhood, but besides that she would often yell at them (mostly Beavis) slap them when they did something wrong etc.

Butthead was the one to learn basic hygiene even though he wasn’t a big fan of it, while Beavis struggled with it as fuck. The blonde would often use the sink/ bathtub instead of toilet, not bothering to clean after himself.

At 17 they tried to give each other stick and pokes. They ended up getting infections with the pen ink and rusty needle.

There are moments when their faces get too close, like when they're both trying to look at something on the TV or sharing a snack. Butt-Head gets flustered and pushes Beavis away, muttering something about personal space.

Sometimes Butt-Head finds himself wanting to do something nice for Beavis, like sharing his nachos or letting him choose what to watch on TV. When this happens, Butt-Head angrily tells himself to "stop being a wuss."

Beavis sometimes finds himself doing little things for Butt-Head, like saving the last chip for him or instinctively waiting for him before going anywhere. He doesn’t know why it feels important to do these things.

Butt-Head often convinces himself that whatever he’s feeling is just a phase or a result of being around Beavis too much, so he starts suggesting they hang out with others more often, though it never actually happens.

Beavis feels a strange sense of comfort when he’s sitting next to Butt-Head, often leaning in a little closer without realizing it. Butt-Head notices and tells him to back off, but deep down he doesn’t really mind.

Butt-Head is more aggressive in trying to pick up chicks than usual, using it as a way to distract himself from his growing feelings for Beavis. He convinces himself that if he gets a girlfriend, these feelings will go away.

Neither of them ever wears matching socks, not because they’re trying to be cool, but because they’ve lost so many pairs.

Butt-Head once wore the same pair of socks for two weeks straight just to see how bad they could smell. He proudly showed them to Beavis, who gagged but couldn’t stop sniffing out of morbid curiosity.

Butt-Head refuses to wash his hair more than once a month because he believes the grease gives him “natural style.” Beavis agrees.

There’s a cup in their room that has had mold growing in it for so long that it’s practically become a pet. They named the mold “Squishy” and take turns seeing who can get closest to it without gagging

They have a secret handshake that’s a combination of a high five, fist bump, and a quick flick of the middle finger, which they think is the coolest thing ever

Beavis and Butt-Head have an odd fascination with roadkill. They’ll sometimes poke at it with sticks or laugh about how “cool” it is.

Beavis sometimes wishes he was more confident like Butt-Head, not realizing that Butt-Head is just as insecure as he is but hides it better.

Beavis suffers from recurring nightmares about losing Butt-Head, being abandoned, or his mother. He tries to mask his fear with jokes, but these dreams deeply affect him.

They both have a subtle, unspoken agreement to look out for one another. When one is sick or down, the other steps in to offer support in their own way, whether it’s through humor or practical help

Beavis has a penchant for combining disgusting food items, like mixing pickles with peanut butter or dipping hot dogs in ketchup and ice cream. He genuinely enjoys these bizarre concoctions.

[ollypopwrites]

if you're still taking requests, can you write a fic where Gale has a cold and the others have to take care of him and cook instead 🥺

Anon I've been working on this for so long! My actual partner got very sick and then we had a move and then a weekend wedding getaway -- it's been hectic. But I've got about 3k words of Gale being doted on for you.

A Wizard in Need

Pairings: Mostly gen but also Bloodweave

Rating: M (language mostly)

CW: chronic illness, common colds, self-worth issues, slight body-horror imagery.

Read on Ao3

His whole body shook with the sudden heat, limbs beginning to jerk and shift, and hot liquid pouring out of his mouth, his nose, his eyes — damn, even his ears. Their time has run out, he realized, as his insides churned and changed, the pain unbearable as his bones broke beneath the skin. Soon he would be no more than another thrall, moving to the whims of some Elder Brain and without his own to think for himself. 

But the hunger of the orb swelled beyond anything else he could comprehend. The transformation could not even offer a reprieve. His last dreadful act as his own person is the orbs' imminent final stand – a deafening roar numbed his body to the pain and everything went white. 

Gale shot up suddenly in his bedroll, a strangled cry becoming a hacking cough, as he gasped for breath. His camp clothes were soaked with sweat, he felt them sticking  to his too warm body.  His hands felt at his face, the familiar scratch of his beard, his nose and lips were all present — no tentacles. Gale shuddered in relief, catching his breath. 

But Gods, he still felt terrible. Feverish, his mind in a haze and his head feeling as if it were stuffed full of cotton. 

There was a rustle at the flap of his tent and he saw the slight glow of red eyes. The rest of Astarion’s face was  backlit by the fire outside, hiding most of it in shadow. Gale felt too unsteady to be sure but he thought the perfect lines of his companion’s face were creased in concern before he schooled them back to his usual half-lidded stare. 

“Thought the tadpole might have finally had its way,” he said quietly. 

“For a moment there, I did as well,” Gale breathed a sigh. 

“It’s the orb, isn’t it?”

Gale rubbed at his chest. It ached, surely, as it always did. But the hunger clawing beneath his skin was more of a background feeling rather than whatever this was. 

“No, not this time,” he replied. “It’s-“  he sneezed abruptly, several times in a row, and afterward his entire head throbbed.

“Oh, darling,” Astarion seemed half-amused. “I believe you have a  common cold.”

“That’s — “ 

Preposterous, and above all else annoying. They had tadpoles in their heads threatening to change them every day, a cult on their heels, he had an orb of netherese magic stuffed in his chest and now he had a trifling bug which made him feel like his entire head was about to burst. 

“Inconvenient.” Gale finished lamely. 

“Will you survive?” Astarion asked sarcastically. 

Too ill to even pretend to be jovial, Gale rolled his eyes and started getting out of his bedroll. “I just need some tea and a quick wash up.” 

When he tried to stand, however, the world began to spin. With a quickness that did nothing to help his dizziness, Astarion leapt forward into the tent, keeping him from falling sideways. He helped Gale down, seemed to hesitate with his hand out and then pressed it on the wizard’s sweaty forehead. His hand was shockingly and soothingly cool. Gale couldn’t help but sigh at the feeling. 

“You’re scorching.” Astarion noted. 

“I question the validity of your knowledge on the matter,” Gale sniffled. “You’re freezing.”

“Vampire,” Astarion gestured to himself as if he had forgotten. “But I know a flush when I see one, and yours is decidedly not one of debauchery.”

There was a clever remark somewhere he could retort with, just on the edge of flirting, but all Gale could think of was crawling back to his bedroll. He grabbed his waterskin, taking heavy pulls to soothe the scratching in his throat. After which he found no energy to do much else.

“Rest,” he muttered. “I need rest.” 

Astarion said nothing as Gale flopped back into his bedroll. He should tell him to bugger off, Astarion was on watch after all, but he didn’t send him away. The vampire sat still, unnaturally so as he always did, before grabbing his waterskin and walking out of the tent. 

Gale shifted between consciousness, exhaustion taking over but a fit of coughing or sneezing kept him from fully submitting. He felt more than heard Astarion come back, placing his waterskin by his hand again and a cool wet cloth pressed against his forehead. It could have been the fever and the ever changing state of his wakefulness but Gale was certain Astarion kept taking the cloth and cooling it between his hands before placing it back on his forehead. 

As if he had shifted through time itself, Gale woke up what felt like moments later. Except there were birds singing outside his tent rather than the tune of crickets. Sunlight didn’t quite pierce the cloth of his tent but it lit it up from the outside, and he could hear everyone moving around camp. 

He still felt dreadful. Blindly reaching for his water he found it full, and drank as much as he could before slumping back. For a while he tried to use his considerable willpower to sit up, get dressed and greet the next day of horrors which awaited them. But he simply did not want to. 

Just as he was about to force himself up, just outside his tent he heard, “Gale? Are you awake?” From Shadowheart. 

“Yes,” he croaked. 

“May I come in?”

“Yes.” 

There was the slightest frown as she peered in first. “Astarion says you have the plague.”

Gale didn’t even have the energy to roll his eyes. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Just a fever,” he tried to assure her. “A bit of rest and it’ll pass, I’m sure.

“Sk’va it’s the transformation,” Lae’zel hissed just outside. “We should give the wizard an honorable death before it takes hold.”

Gale wanted to remind her that an honorable death would mean a decidedly unhonorable explosion which would wipe out their entire camp and beyond, but Wyll spoke up before he could.

“It’s a cold, Lae’zel,” Wyll said. “Nothing some hearty broth and rest can’t fix.”

Everyone seemed to be standing just outside of his tent. Out of view but definitely not out of hearing range. 

“If he is cold we have extra blankets,” Lae’zel said firmly. “Why do we waste our time with broth?”

“No,” Karlach said, “a cold, mate. A bug.”

“Then smash the bug.” 

“It’s not a real bug,” Wyll explained. “It’s a turn of phrase. Gale’s ill, with a common and mostly harmless sickness.”

“Tch’k.”

Sometimes Gale wondered if Lae’zel’s ignorance to Faerunian turns of phrase was merely a bit she was fully committed to. He couldn’t help but breathe out a small laugh but that triggered a coughing fit that stole his breath and shredded his throat.

Shadowheart gently pushed him down with a hand on his shoulder. “I’m more a battle healer, less a medicine woman,” she frowned. “Are you hungry? Wyll’s starting a bone broth but we have porridge.”

“Porridge sounds lovely,” Gale attempted a smile. 

“I’m on it!” Karlach yelled and he heard the heavy stomps of her boots trail off. 

“Halsin went to find some herbs for a tea he thinks may help,” Shadowheart told him. 

That was rather kind of Halsin to go out of his way. Gale thought for a moment he should try to make an attempt to tough it out. They did have very important things to do, after all. But as he woke with the ever present pain of the orb on top of feeling so dreadfully, he was not sure he could stand on his own two feet for long. Typical. Washed up, burdensome old man that he was: he would be the one to get ill on the road. He wasted valuable magical items, was  a constant threat of blowing them off the face of Faerûn and was now too sickly to move. 

He offered what he hoped was a convincing smile. “When Halsin returns, have him leave the herbs with the supplies, I’ll fetch myself a cup later.”

Shadowheart raised an eyebrow. “If you’re sure.”

“Quite sure.” 

“Astarion filled your waterskin, drink it,” she said blandly, then disappeared from the tent. 

“We’ll leave you to rest,” Wyll said through the cloth. “Shout if you need anything.”

It was quiet for a bit, the unintelligible murmur of everyone about camp and the birdsong outside would have been comforting if he didn’t feel so dreadful. He closed his eyes, and focused on his breath, trying to ignore the fact that his nose was too stopped. Heavy thumping footsteps and a flood of warmth in the tent alerted him to Karlach before she even said anything. 

“Delivery!” She boomed. “I warmed it up for you. One benefit of being a walking inferno.” She clanked on the metal in her chest. 

“Thank you, Karlach,” he said. 

“Of course, bomb buddies gotta stick together,” she gave a toothy grin. 

“Karlach let him rest,” Shadowheart called. 

“Oops, sorry,” she smiled sheepishly. “Shout if you need anything, yeah?”

Gale nodded. Bomb buddies. He wished he had her exuberance in the face of certain death. After she was gone, he willed himself to eat and had a mind to try and get up to wash his plate, but politeness would have to wait in the face of the dizziness he felt. He drank down some of the water and laid back, trying to breathe again. His chest ached. His fingers rubbed around the mark of the orb, not doing much to aid in the pain but now a habit more than anything. 

It was quiet, almost peaceful. Until suddenly his body wrought out a coughing fit so powerful he thought he may vomit. Suddenly the orb throbbed, his entire body seemed to vibrate and then — he woke up again. Still coughing. A cold, firm hand pulled him to sit, shocking him slightly at the unannounced presence. 

“Easy,” Astarion said simply. “Breathe.”

Gale closed his eyes, catching his breath. He still felt horrible. Astarion placed his waterskin in his hand, helping him lift it to his lips and drink some down. It was a heavenly sensation, the cool liquid soothing his throat and slaking the dry raw feeling from the cough. 

The day had changed into evening, not quite late enough to engulf his tent in darkness but enough that his gaze had to adjust to the low light. 

“Halsin made tea,” Astarion commented. “I’ll have Karlach warm it up for you. Wyll’s broth for you should be done soon, took me ages to find something big enough to boil down.”

Gale shook his head. “We need to make for the mountain pass,” he said, his voice sounding foreign to his own self. Raspy and nasal. “You all should have sent a scouting party, not wasted time playing nurse.”

“Now is that any way to thank us?” Astarion simpered dramatically. “Lae’zel and Karlach found a path to the crèche, once you're done lazing about we will all head there to see if her little device works. When it inevitably fails, we will head to the Underdark at Halsin’s behest.” He tilted his head, not unlike a curious cat, Gale noted. “We can’t do that without our resident wizard, now can we? Who else will I bother on the road?”

“There’s plenty of people to bother in camp, if you must.”

“They’re not as fun as you.”

Gale was grateful for the fever. It could easily be the reason he suddenly felt his cheeks heat up if Astarion noticed. Without saying anything, Astarion held out the water again. Gale peered past him as he took a drink to a mirror he had in the corner of the camp. It was strange to see Astarion in front of him and not in the reflection. If Gale didn’t know better he’d think him a hallucination, a result of the illness that made Gale’s own reflection have the sunken in look he saw. 

“You should clear off,” Gale muttered. “The last thing we need is for illness to spread through the camp.”

���I haven’t been ill in nearly 200 years, Gale.” Astarion waved him off. “But if you want me to leave, I won’t stay where I’m not wanted.”

Gale didn’t want him to leave, but he was on his way out anyway. Not much later he returned with a piping hot cup of tea. It was not a pleasurable mixture, slightly sour and earthy, the only reprieve from the flavor was the sweetness of honey in the aftertaste. He was not going to doubt Halsin’s knowledge, nor did he want to appear ungrateful. 

Astarion never left. Halsin came in, broad body taking up so much room in his tent he couldn’t even see Astarion behind him. He offered him more tea, some kind words and another cold cloth before leaving. Thankfully Astarion didn’t seem to want to chat, he simply thumbed through a book and lounged on some pillows. Every so often he would cool the wet cloth for Gale, or run to fetch some more water.

Wyll came in with broth and some bread. Gale found it in himself to sit up long enough to eat and let the others check in on him. The Blade of the Frontiers made quite a decent bone broth; he’d said the cook at the Ravenguard estate had taught him the recipe after many days spent sick in his youth. Lae’zel had grabbed his face and inspected it, as if looking for some errant tentacle that had escaped everyone’s notice. She gave one of her low growling hums out and told him he needed to rest, as if he had been trying to sprint the length of the lake the entire day. The healers had offered teas and potions to help him sleep.

Karlach had shyly offered her beloved bear Clive to sit with him since she couldn’t without burning his tent down. It was sweet, and childlike of her to do so, but he appreciated it more than he would have imagined. It seemed no one had realized just how much he was weighing them down. Perhaps they just didn’t want to mention it.

His chest ached. 

“Do you need a magic item?”

“What?”

“You’re rubbing the mark.” 

Gale immediately stopped, having started the pointless effort to soothe the pain without thinking. “No, I’m alright.”

“Don’t be stoic,” Astsrion said. “It doesn’t suit you.”

“What does suit me, in your esteemed opinion, Astsrion?” Gale couldn’t keep the slight lilt of sarcasm out of his tone despite himself. 

“An unfevered flush, I’d imagine,” Astsrion replied immediately. “Does it hurt terribly?”

“It always does,” Gale replied, his raspy voice tired and defeated.

“Drink your tea,” Astarion simply said. “Halsin says it’ll help you sleep. Probably tastes like dirt, though. I don’t envy you.”

Gale took a sip, shuddering at the flavor. “It is…earthy,” he conceded. “But the effort is appreciated.”

Astarion’s lips twitched into a smile. 

“Astarion,” Gale began cautiously, “why are you still here?”

Astarion looked at him for a long moment, eyes rounding out as he seemed to think. “Someone has to make sure you’re still breathing.”

“It’s a cold,” Gale said, “I’m not at risk of falling over dead just yet.”

“With those grey hairs you can't be too sure.”

“Oh,” Gale breathed out a soft laugh, “you certainly know how to keep me humble, don’t you? And while I’m ill? Your bedside manner could use some practice.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m here, isn’t it?” Astarion smirked. 

“Happy to assist,” Gale replied. “Word of advice, don’t mention dying to your ailing patient, it doesn’t inspire much comfort.”

It was quiet for a bit as Gale drank the tea down as quickly as he could. It was not a pleasant taste, and he wanted to be done with it as soon as possible. He gently stretched after setting the cup aside, his back stiff from laying all day and shoulders wound up from tensing them in his sleep. Gods, he wanted to bathe and sleep but he felt the energy draining from him. Halsin’s concoction was working quickly to lure him into a gentle sleep. 

“Say what you will about the flavor,” Gale yawned, blinking blearily. “Halsin’s skills as an apothecary are quite impressive.”

“I’ll pass your compliments along.”

“Without embezzling, if you please.”

Another quiet moment as Gale laid back, ready to let sleep wash over him. He was used to Astarion’s presence now, not sure what the real point of it was, but it kept the worst of the anxious thoughts at bay. And it was a comfort, Gale tried not to linger too long on that, but it was nice to have him there. 

“Everyone offered to care for you, you know,” Astarion said without preamble. “No one complained. Except me, of course, but I’d rather bring mine directly.”

Gale frowned at the ceiling of his tent, unsure what brought that comment on.

“Burdensome is debatable, darling, I’m hardly one to cast judgment about dietary needs,” Astarion tried to hide behind a casual tone, “but washed up is a bit harsh,”

“The tadpoles.” Gale winced in realization.

“Little blighters,” Astarion agreed. “We’re in this together, Gale. Whether we like it or not. We’d all take the bleeding heart kindness you’d offer any of us without blinking,” he tilted his head a bit, “it’s only right that you accept ours.”

That seemed like flawed logic; Gale was, with few exceptions, the most volatile besides Karlach. Even having him with them was expensive and dangerous. But his thoughts could not linger too long on it, as Halsin’s tea had his mind slipping towards blissful rest. The last thing he felt was the gentle coolness of a hand on his forehead, and the soft whisper of Astarion’s voice. 

“Sleep tight, darling. We’ve got you.”

Thank you for reading!

[weirdmarioenemies]

Weird Mario Enemies Presents: A Chris Pratt Carol

‘Twas the night before April, when all through the flat,

Not a creature was stirring, except for a Pratt!

Chris Pratt couldn’t sleep, after such a long day,

For his movie premiere was just five days away!

“I’m so excited”, Pratt thought, with a grin on his face,

“For my role as the Mario, I’m definitely an ace!”

But just as Chris had thought those thoughts with his brain,

He soon heard the sounds of a rattling chain…

A scary ghoul appeared right before Pratt’s eyes, 

And its face looked familiar, much to his surprise!

The ghost was Bob Hoskins, it was clear to see,

As he was cast in Super Mario Bros. (1993)!

“Why are you here?” pratted Chris, with a fearful tone,

And the specter replied with a ghostly groan,

“I’m here to warn you, so hear my plea,

If you carry on like this, you’ll end up just like me!”

“This cannot be! Don’t take me for a fool!

Even Miyamoto-san thinks I’m so cool!”

“So it may be, but take a look online...

As the voice for the plumber, they all wish you’d resign!

Anya and Charlie, and Jack Black too,

Not one of them receives as much hate as you!

You’ll be visited tonight by three Mario ghosts, 

From them you must learn, or your career is toast!”

First came the Ghost of Mario Past,

At his brilliant white glow, Chris Pratt lay aghast!

The room was illuminated by his ethereal light, 

Though he was a pro wrestler, he came not for a fight!

The ghost showed him visions of an old cartoon,

In which Mario danced to a familiar tune, 

 The live-action plumber was a certain Paisano, 

Portrayed only by the legend Lou Albano!

“Bah! Humbug!”, scoffed the Pratty Chris,

‘You come to my home just to show me this?’

But despite his attitude, Pratt really knew,

That he didn’t have as much Pasta Power as Lou…

‘Hey paisano, lemme give you a clue, 

Super Mario’s Italian, through and through!

Your bland voice acting just makes me sigh,

At this rate you’ll go to hell, before you die!’

The Ghost of Mario Present arrived as due,

He was heard all through the house, with a resounding ‘wahoo!’

With a torch in his hand and sitting upon a heap of food,

This jolly ghost could only spread his good mood!

The ghost brought Pratt to a world of Wet-Dry,

To a small home with a family that struggled to get by,

The ghost gestured to the window to peek, 

For there Pratt would find a situation most bleak.

A poor uncle and niece shared one measly dish,

But the frail young Spikina held only one wish,

Her beloved Super Mario, she wanted to see,

On the big screen, going ‘yahoo’ and ‘yipee!’

Were she to hear Chris, she’d soon be let down,

Hearing her hero so dull would just make her frown!

If her illness got worse, we’d surely know why,

Chris Pratt would be to blame if she were to Die!

The Ghost of Mario Yet to Come was last, but not least,

For he took the appearance of a demonic beast!

Even Pratt could only tremble in fear,

As this frightening new apparition drew near.

Just as the silence was making Chris choke,

The ghost opened its mouth and spoke, 

“Where is god when you need him?”

And this left Chris Pratt feeling quite grim.

Chris didn’t really know what the spirit had meant,

But he was left with a feeling, a need to repent,

And though it hadn’t spoken of the future at all, 

Just its presence had made Pratt want to bawl!

“O spirits of Mario, I ask that you forgive!

I won’t voice another cartoon, for as long as I live!

I now understand the depth of my sin,

I’ll no longer voice Mario, I simply give in!”

With that, Chris scrambled out of bed with a start,

He dashed to his window with a beating heart. 

From his flat he saw a boy standing outside,

With a small hint of hope, Pratt leaned out and cried:

“You there! What day is to-day?”

“To-day? Why, It’s April Fools Day, sir!”

“April Fools! That means I haven’t missed it! Wahoo!” said Chris Pratt, as he flipped his turtle with joy!

He had no further intercourse with Spirits, but lived upon the Total Abstinence Principle, ever afterwards; and it was always said of him, that he knew how to keep Mario well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us! 

And so, as Tiny Spikina observed, Mario bless Us, Every One!

[mystic-writings]

remember the nights | chapter twelve — o, atlas, pt. ii

WORD COUNT — 2,304

WARNINGS — reader's family celebrates christmas, slight angst

NOTES — i can’t believe there’s like 2 chapters left already what happened

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In a blur, Christmas day had finally arrived. And, almost miraculously, it was one of the first days over the past month that you were able to feel some sort of joy. Through the ache in your chest and the cloud of loneliness that had been following you around for over a month, you woke up feeling almost… happy.

Almost. 

Every year since you could remember — including this year — you woke up before anyone else in the house. The sun was barely creeping over the horizon, the glow creeping over the white walls of your bedroom, illuminating it brilliantly. The clock on your phone read 6:47am. You’d never understood how your body managed to wake up so early no matter what time you went to bed on Christmas Eve. It was like it knew what was awaiting you the next morning. 

At 7:15am, after scrolling on your phone became too boring and you could no longer wait for the rest of the house to wake up, you began to tiptoe downstairs as quietly as you could manage. It was mostly light outside, but the hallway was still dark, and you had to use your phone to light the path to the living room. 

The sunlight mixed with the light from the decorations outside and the lights glimmering on the tree as you moved to sit on the far right side of the couch. Gifts were piled underneath the tree, almost overflowing into the rest of the room, all perfectly wrapped or bagged — certainly Maggie’s doing, as you knew your dad was never able to wrap gifts properly. 

The door down the hall creaked open as you made your way into the living room, and you backtracked to find Chuck, bleary-eyed and mostly-asleep, making his way to the living room. With every step, his feet landed on the hems of his too-big pajama pants, and he rubbed his eyes as he made his way to you. 

He jumped slightly when he saw you, before heading to the couch and sitting to your left. “G’morning,” he greeted with a yawn, sleep coating his words. 

“Morning,” you whispered back before getting back up upon realizing how hungry you were. You headed to the kitchen, grabbing a box of cereal to bring back for you and Chuck to take turns eating handfuls of as you waited silently for everyone to get up. 

It had taken everyone else almost an hour to get up and make their way to the living room, and from there it was an almost perfect Christmas morning. A light snowfall had begun almost as soon as your parents sat on the couch, and everyone joked around as you all unwrapped your gifts. 

And while you may not have talked directly to Thomas that morning, it seemed that you were both on the same page. No ill will on Christmas. 

Maggie made breakfast afterward, and you helped your dad with cleaning up the ocean of wrapping paper as she did so. Once the food was ready, everyone sat down to eat together like you used to, as a family. You talked and laughed like before, like nothing had even happened between you and Thomas, before everyone inevitably went their own ways to do whatever they needed to. 

Thomas took his presents upstairs to put them away and get ready to see Teresa later on in the day, your dad went upstairs to get dressed for the day, and Chuck and Maggie immediately set off to start building the Lego Death Star he got from her and your dad. You decided that putting away everything you were given now would be easiest, so you went to do exactly that. 

When you got to your room, you set aside the clothes you got from your uncle to be washed, and put the books Amina and Fernanda sent you on top of your dresser before sending them excited ‘thank you’ texts. Finally, you set up the new laptop you’d gotten from your dad and Maggie. Thomas had received one, too, and their main explanation was that you would need them for college. It was one of those fancy ones, too, that was somehow both a laptop and a tablet.

After taking everything out of the packaging, you brought the box over to your closet to shelve it in case you’d need it later. But you made the simple mistake of glancing down — at the bins in your closet, filled with things from your childhood, where the piece of clothing you’d been avoiding for a month sat. 

Perfectly folded, resting on top of the bins. Newt’s jacket.

The ache in your heart came back, and your breath stuttered in your lungs as your eyes locked onto the canvas jacket. You didn’t move an inch as you stared, thinking, long and hard, about what to do with it. Finally, with a determined shut of your closet doors, you came to a decision and got dressed for the day. 

You weren’t sure if you’d chosen to give it back because it was Christmas, or if you were tired of the constant reminders and feeling the way you did for so long, or if you just wanted an excuse to finally try to talk things out with Newt. 

After you were dressed, you grabbed the jacket from the closet and put it into one of your old backpacks before heading downstairs. You found your dad sitting with Chuck and Maggie, still piecing together the Death Star in the living room. 

Sliding on your coat, you asked, “Dad, can I take the car for a sec? I have to give something to Brenda really quick.”

He looked up, considering it for a moment. It didn’t seem like anything out of the ordinary, but you felt as though telling him that you were going to see Brenda instead of breaking your own heart by trying to talk to Newt was a safer option.

“Sure thing, kiddo. The keys should be on my desk in the office.” He smiled, nodding at you when you smiled back. “Just try to be back by 3, okay? Maggie’s gonna need our help with dinner.” 

“No problem, dad,” you told him, already crossing the hallway to head to his office, which was directly across from Chuck’s room. “I’ll be back before you know it.” 

Heading into the office, the first thing you noticed was that the room was flooded with gray-toned natural light from the window across from your dad’s desk. The sky outside was cloudy, large snowflakes tumbling to the ground. You made your way to the desk, where you found the keys tucked under your dad’s large, highly expensive, Mac monitor. Considering he designed company logos and other types of things for a living, it wasn’t surprising that he had one to work on. After all, it was what allowed him to work from home and to do so flexibly. 

After grabbing the keys and heading back into the hallway, you rushed out of the house, barely stopping to say your goodbyes to everyone. The second you’d gotten in the car, you felt the anxiety building high in your chest like Jenga blocks, stacking higher and higher, becoming more unstable with every passing second, waiting for the right moment to crash to the ground and suffocate you under their unbearable weight.

But you refused to let that happen. Instead, you pushed it all aside, starting the car and allowing the ease of driving to take over until you were parked along the curb of the familiar barn-style house. Shutting off the car, you took as deep a breath as your lungs would allow, closing your eyes and trying your best to mentally prepare yourself for what could happen. 

After you gave yourself a moment or two, you decided that just getting it over with would be easiest. Shaking the thoughts from your head, you grabbed the strap of the bag from the passenger seat and stepped out of the car, walking up the driveway. The cold breached your jacket within seconds, and you could only think about how you wouldn’t have been cold if you were wearing Newt’s jacket instead. 

The tower of anxiety within you built itself higher and higher, growing into a skyscraper by the time you reached the front door. With another deep breath, you raised your shaking hand and formed a fist to knock on the door. Before you had the chance to do so, the white-painted wood door swung open. 

You quickly stepped back as an older woman began to step out, shouting over her shoulder. 

“Don’t forget about the chicken, please! I’ll be back at 9!” She looked like she was in a rush, jacket pulled over one arm, a purse resting in the crook of her elbow, and keys jangling in her palm as she tried to pull the door shut. She wore a set of light blue scrubs, little black doodled flowers covering them, and her hair — the same sandy blond color as both of her kids — seemed to be haphazardly thrown into a ponytail. She jumped when she realized she almost ran right into you. “Oh! Sorry, darling! I didn’t see you there.”

“It’s okay,” you smiled at her. “Don’t worry about it.”

She huffed and smiled tiredly at you. “You must be one of my kid’s friends,” she deduced. “I’m sorry to have met you like this, but I’m going to be late for work—” 

You smiled warmly at her. “No worries. I’m just here to talk to— to Newt, actually. I, uhm, I have something to give to him.” 

“Oh,” she nodded, pushing some hair from her face. It was nice to see how much Newt was like his mom. “Well, he’s inside.” For a second, she seemed to contemplate what she wanted to say next. “And if you can, would you try to cheer him up a bit? The poor boy, he’s been so… down lately. Won’t talk to me about it, either.” 

Your throat dried in an instant, but you nodded, anyway. “I’ll see what I can do.” 

A relieved smile brightened her features. “Thank you so much, love. Oh, and merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” you smiled, waving at the woman as she squeezed your arm before heading to her car. 

You took a few more minutes to pull yourself back together again before finally knocking on the door. In moments, it creaked open again, and your heart cracked. You were almost expecting Sonya to open the door. Why, you weren’t sure, but when you suddenly came face to face with Newt, that skyscraper in your chest came crashing down. You could handle it every other time, because you had space. You could walk away. Here, you could see him, reach out and touch him, if you wanted to. 

Shaking out of your stupor, you opened your mouth to speak. 

But Newt beat you to it. 

“Go away.” And with that, the door slammed shut. 

He couldn’t handle seeing you like that. Not now. The space he’d put between the two of you and the door that he knew needed to remain closed was the only thing keeping him sane. Over the past month, the space he put between himself and the rest of the group was the only thing that kept him from exploding entirely. From kicking Thomas’ ass for ruining everything, from walking up to you and kissing you like you were the only thing keeping him alive. 

And then you knocked again. Newt ignored it, making his way to the stairs. 

Sonya stepped out of the kitchen. “Who’s at the door?”

“No one,” he snapped, stomping up the stairs. 

Sonya glared at her brother as he turned the corner. The stairs creaked as he went, filling the silence that seemed to be in their house more often than not these days. Then there was another knock at the door, and Sonya’s eyes darted between it and where her brother’s figure just was. With a sigh, Sonya approached the door, pulling it open again. Her eyes widened with surprise upon seeing you. “Y/n! What are you doing here?”

You smiled, hesitantly and slightly sad, as you picked at the strap on your backpack. “I wanted to, uh, to see Newt, actually. I still have his jacket, from the…” you paused, taking a deep breath. “I just thought I should give it back to him. It’s been a month now, so…” 

Sonya only nodded as the mood turned somber. 

Taking another breath, you slipped the backpack from your shoulder and began unzipping it. “Anyway, I have it here. Could you give it to him for me?” 

“Of course,” Sonya nodded as you pulled the perfectly folded jacket from the bag, handing it to her. 

Quietly, you thanked her and turned around. But there was something you had to ask of her, so you turned back around right before she closed the door. “Sonya,” you called out, and she opened the door again. “Could you tell him I miss him, at least? I know he probably doesn’t want to hear it, and maybe it doesn’t even matter anymore, but I need him to at least know that. Even if he doesn’t care anymore.” 

“I will.” She promised. “If he’s willing to listen to me, I’ll tell him.” 

It wasn’t much, but the crack in the dam was enough for the relief to start trickling in. You nodded once more at the girl, waving goodbye as she smiled at you, closing the door behind her. Making your way back to the car, you pulled the keys from your pocket, sliding them into the ignition and making your way home. 

You could only hope that things would start to get better for everyone soon.

series taglist: @heliads @ghostofscarley @badbatch-simp24 @virginia-peters @third-broparcelicito @lamolaine @yes-fangirl-things (open!)

[magistralucis]

Had my worst confrontation with The Pigs so far, especially awful because I didn’t even intend to stumble upon this. I didn’t choose any hostile options, I was alone (I think having Kim around makes this encounter worse and longer), and I passed the check for the gun just fine... but because I hadn’t talked to the Hardie Boys yet, literally hadn’t approached them at all, my detective had no idea what to do with her afterwards. All his mangled brain could come up with was this:

Sure, Lieutenant ‘I-will-instantly-pull-a-gun-at-a-mentally-ill-old-woman’ Kitsuragi totally would. 🙄 But in his absence, I’m shattered that HDB can’t act on any other option, despite being able to conceptualize one. Logic says it right there: the locals will take care of her. It’s the right answer. In terms of video game logic, this is exactly the sort of thing that'd be a positive modifier for the Hardie Boys talk. Even if you never approached them before, it feels like it’d forward your case if you ask their help, since you have the interests of the vulnerable members of their community in mind. Even if the Hardie Boys aren’t an option, Lilienne is a short distance away, isn’t she? Couldn’t HDB ask the Washerwoman, any other local in Martinaise? If he gives anyone a heads-up, he will have delivered a minimal duty of care.

But no. None of that happens, because this scene isn’t a brownie points exercise, and HDB isn’t a reasonable authority figure. He’s deeply unwell, like The Pigs. He’s been abandoned, like The Pigs. He’s in horrible pain, clinging to the vestiges of a cop identity like her, in the desperate hopes of something real and present to hold onto. This is a man who can barely face his own reflection. Seeing The Pigs, a near doppelganger of what he is and may become, is clearly too much for him to handle. HDB can react with compassion, or he can react with threats and violence, and both threads persist through the very end of the encounter with her.

Mutually exclusive options, but both present, and both possible. They are equally valid indicators of the person HDB is, and since he’s capable of the threat at all, it’s not looking good. And this is his double he’s saying this to. We know HDB hates himself to the point of self-destruction, and didn’t/doesn’t think he can improve (’I don’t want to get better, I want to get worse’): the fact that he can think up the pieces that might help her, yet his posterior neocortex shuts him down before he can put them together, implies to me that HDB is actively refusing to believe he can help The Pigs. He’s afraid to believe. He’s beyond help, after all. Everyone told him so.

He thinks it’s true, too, so the same must go for her, yes?

It’s. It’s just. How fucking broken is HDB that he knows what must be done, but simply cannot connect himself to the idea that he ought to do it. How are we meant to bear that his immediate thought upon seeing this poor woman - this horrific, devastated mirror of himself - is that Kim will know what to do, but he does not, because he convinced himself he’s utterly helpless. ‘Cause obviously, Kim’s stabilizing him, right? Surely Kim can do the same for The Pigs, and since RAC sure as fuck doesn’t know what to do about himself, he might as well just give up if Kim’s not around. So without Kim and without the Hardie Boys, HDB will simply walk away, and never bring up this incident again. It fucking breaks my heart it can’t end any other way. There are no adjectives for this level of self-loathing.

And you know, I bet he’d have reacted similarly had he been with any other RCM officer - Jean, others in Precinct 41, whatever - because he fundamentally doesn’t exist in a system that has compassion for people like this. Note that it is Esprit de Corps, your cop sense, which pipes up first to assert that you can’t help her. ‘’’Protect’’’ and serve my fucking arse

And no, Kim doesn’t know what to do in this situation either, according to FAYDE. Unlike HDB he doesn’t even come up with the right answer, only nightmare fuel, as regular cops with regular thoughts do

oh god. oh god, kim

[emhasthoughts]

Gertrude and the cat-avatars, pt 4

Summary: The old-cat-crew has finally made their home at Gertrude. There's some darkness, worms and ants involved

Warning: Some very mild Corruption content (nothing in detail)

A/N: Heyyy it's been awhile, huh? Yeah, so I had trouble actually getting these four written down, which is why there's some bonus content and like.... 10 days of nothing.

Thanks to @dcartcorner for getting me to actually finish this thing

As always, not beta read, just me, the document and 3 hours of break between lessons...

Pt 1, Simon, Peter, Elias and Mike / Pt 2, Michael and Helen Distortion, Agnes / Pt 3, Annabelle, Jude, Oliver / Pt 4, You're here! / Pt 5, Jon, Martin, Sasha, Tim / Pt 6, Melanie, Daisy, Basira, Georgie / Pt 7, Jared, Gerry, Nikola / Bonus, a visit to the vet / Halloween bonus!

Simon really had a bad habit of getting older cats to Gertrude’s doorstep. Was it just because she was old? She had no real idea but there she was. In front of an older cat that Simon was proudly standing right next to. The cat was black, the first time she looked at him it felt like watching the void. The eyes watching her were rather dark too. She had named him Maxwell and moved on. Knowing she would not get rid of him easily if Simon had any say in it and Simon had a lot to say.

She got a similar cat two years later. She had been mostly lurking around. Gertrude had first seen her when Maxwell went out on a walk, she had looked outside and seen two nearly identical cats. Though the new one seemed to have a bit more fur on than Maxwell did. Afterwards the cat would spend her time in Gertrude's garden. Causing her to nearly trip over the cat on the darker nights. In the end she let the cat in. Deciding it would be better than harming the cat due to the dark nights approaching. Gertrude had named her Manuela. It fit well enough with Maxwell. 

Despite them both being rather calm Gertrude tried her best to never enter whatever room they were in. Sometimes the room would go completely dark, no matter how many lights she had on. It never lasted for long, but Gertrude really preferred having sight.

The last of the older cats that had been making their home in Gertrude’s home was a rather odd one. Though how someone could be more odd than Simon she did not know. (A thought she would later regret ever thinking.) He was similar to Simon in looks, though he was more brown than grey and also bigger than Simon’s tiny body. There was an ill-fitting collar though it did not indicate a name or previous owner. By the smell of him it seemed like he had been alone for a while. 

His name was John and would be healthy according to the veterinarian. She was given some medicine to give the cat and hopefully with a better bath John would stop smelling like he was dying. 

Gertrude ended up with a similar cat. Which was not really ideal as John would bring with ants for her to kill. Similar to him, the new one would bring in worms. Which was why Gertrude had started to hate when it rained, it just meant that the cat would run outside and bring back as many worms as she possibly could. 

The cat was grey with black spots on her body. Most of the time she would spend time outside, mostly in Gertrude’s garden. Something that was not great as she tried to at least take some care of it. Sometimes the cat would wander inside, putting a worm in a flowerpot or as a horrible present. The cat had gotten the name Jane. Figuring out that she probably was the owner of the cat by now.

She was not sure if bringing worms was better than bringing birds or mice to her home.

[sorchathered]

Uhhhhhh a mix between telling you about my day and Thots™️ b u t

I have two chronic illnesses that make me prone to passing out and the other day I was at the store and knew I was gonna collapse in public so I found a random stranger in the store that looked kind enough to not do anything and basically dropped to my knees in front of him and asked if he could 'watch me for a sec' and proceeded to pass out immediately.

Luckily for me I chose a good one because I woke up about 20 seconds later with his jacket under my head and this mofo glaring at *everyone* who walked past. (I would come to find he had two daughters, hence the protective instinct over my femme-presenting self)

So I figured maybe you'd enjoy thinking about your favorite boys' reaction to their s/o collapsing (either from general sickies or a chronic illness, too) and becoming incredibly overprotective for the next 20 seconds until their partner woke up.

Bonus points if their s/o passes out when getting out of bed after a good night and, despite them knowing full well it's the sickies/ci, make jokes about the night being so good they fell for them once again—

~Hermes🤍🪽

In hindsight you should’ve known it was coming. You hadn’t quite felt yourself all day and you could feel the migraine banding across your forehead and wrapping around the back of your neck, vision began to blur at the edges and become spotty, your Apple Watch going off letting you know your heart rate was very much abnormal. At the sound of the alert Jake’s head shot up in your direction from where he was perusing the cereal section looking for whatever disgustingly unhealthy breakfast choice he was after this week. He was by your side immediately , crouching to sit you on the floor as you lean your body into him knowing it wouldn’t be long before you lost consciousness. It shouldn’t be embarrassing after all this time but he wasn’t always there to help take care of you and people could be incredibly cruel when it came to invisible illnesses, something he had quickly noticed in the beginning of your relationship when you had your first episode around him. He cradled you to his chest while he waited for your heart rate to level out and you to come back to consciousness, making sure to give anyone in your direction a nasty glare so they would keep their distance and opinions to themselves. You came to not long after, feeling a little worse for wear and slightly embarrassed but when you looked into his eyes all you saw was relief and love, you’d picked a good one to spend your life with that’s for sure, he would never make you feel different for your health issues and always made sure to handle you with the upmost care. He may have made you sit in the shopping cart afterwards just to calm his nerves while you on the snacks he kept stocked in your purse for occasions just like these. 

——————————————————————————-

Thank you so much for sending this to me @ram-bams-blog !

[burning-bubble-tea]

I played Imposter Factory with a friend recently and this is kinda my thoughts on it along with my general thoughts with the To The Moon series.

Also uh spoilers.

So in the game Lynri and Quincy have a child named Tobias who at a pivotal decision in their life, they chose to have Tobias early due to Lynri’s medical condition. Lynri feels guilt for this when Tobias passes a few years later due to complications with his health due to being born so premature.

The big twist of the game is that Tobias is actually Neil in a simulated alternative timeline and in reality, Lynri chose to have her baby first and then treat her illness afterwards.

In the reality timeline, Tobias is Neil and while he does inherit his mother’s chronic illness, he grows up to be an adult. Due to delaying her treatment Lynri passes away but does get to see Neil grow up a significant portion of his life.

I really like how the game doesn’t really present either timeline as better than the other. Tobias’s life is just as valuable as Neil’s life no matter how short it was. Neither choice was the correct choice for Lynri and Quincy to make as they did not know the future and could decide what they prefer.

Lynri is not selfish for seeking treatment and thus having to give birth to Tobias prematurely and Neil should not feel like it was his fault for having to make his mother choose between himself and herself.

Ultimately it was Lynri’s choice and neither one of them were incorrect, they were just different choices that let Quincy and Lynri down different paths.

Now the To The Moon series has this sort up interesting choice that’s also not correct or incorrect. The first game shows a man who chooses to have his memories altered so that as he passes, he dies with the memories of a so-called perfect life. In Finding Paradise, Colin feels as if he’s missing that perfect life but ultimately he doesn’t need to have his memory altered as his life was fine the way it is and he can pass with no regrets.

Johnny wanted to go to the moon because of a subconscious promise that he forgot that he made to his future wife when he was a child. He forgot that promise but it was so ingrained in his subconscious (along with the repressed memories of his twin) that the solution was to alter his memory and take him to the moon in the simulated memory. It was a way of fulfilling his promise since obviously he couldn’t go to the moon if he didn’t remember the promise which is what Sigmund promises to its clients.

However for Colin, Sigmund’s services wasn’t exactly needed. He just had a sense that maybe he was missing out on something (it’s literally described in the wiki and I think by Neil as FOMO hahahahah) and while he does have regrets, he doesn’t need to change anything.

Both Colin and Johnny make a choice. Neither of them are the right and wrong choice but they’re choices. By going to Sigmund, Johnny is able to unlock his memories of his twin and his childhood and is given memories of a life where his twin doesn’t die and he doesn’t forget. Colin thinks he needs Sigmund’s services but ultimately doesn’t. I think the only changes are Faye erasing Sigmund from his memory if I read the wiki right hahahahha I haven’t played finding paradise is awhile.

What I’m kinda getting at is that both the simulated memories and reality are fine. Neither are represented narratively as inherently good or bad. For Johnny it was good, for Colin, it was not needed. And that’s why I really like how Imposter Factory treated Lynri and Quincy. At the end, they find out their life is just a simulation within like thousands of other simulations. All the Lynri’s and Quincy’s from all the simulated timelines are all turned into one and they’re offered a simulated life where everything is perfect. Lynri’s chronic illness is cured and there is no complications with her pregnancy, they get to see Neil grow up and marry Eva, they get to travel the world together. It’s not all too much different from their reality life other than that Lynri and Quincy were given more time. However before accepting the offer of the perfect simulated timeline, Lynri feels apathetic towards it, feeling as if there’s not worth in it because it is simulated. However To The Moon does not place a moral value on the simulated memories, they just are, and they bring happiness. It is not some matrix red pill blue pill shit, and it’s not a sinister lie since the person is consenting to the procedure, it’s simply a decision. For Quincy and Lynri, it’s a decision that gives them more time, and to experience a life where they essentially have the maximum amount of time together.

Tobias, Lynri and Neil’s lives are not worth less because they’re shorter, they’re just as valuable, however with the simulated world, they’re given more time together. Tobias and Lynri dying is sad and tragic but to mis quote Ride the Cyclone, “I would gladly take my [few years] over nothing”. The simulated world simply gives them more time together that reality couldn’t give them. And to misquote Don Hertzfeldt World of Tomorrow, “you are alive and living now, now is the envy of all the dead”. So Lynri had envy of other because she essentially viewed herself as destined to die and die soon. But the simulated world gave her more of the now that she ignored. Lynri lived her life planning for the future because she wanted to leave a mark on the world before she died. And in doing so, she missed the now. But the simulated world gave her so much now, even if it is simulated, it doesn’t make it any less valuable. And maybe because it’s just as good or maybe it’s because it requires no defining of moral judgment. Either way, simulated Lynri and Quincy are alive in some sense, they are definitely sentient being able to grapple with the concept that they are living in a simulated world, and they do have to die as the simulation needs to end, but Faye offers them the simulated life, where they get more now to spend together. In that context it doesn’t matter if the simulated world is “real” or not. One gives you more now even if it’s not in reality and the other option is just no more.

And in the reality world, is poor Neil. He granted a virtual copy of his parents a perfect simulated life. But he’s living in the past. Hopefully he learns to enjoy more of the now, as there’s nothing wrong with the past, it’s important to take the past with us.

I guess I sorta have a fascination with the concepts of moral philosophy but all my technical knowledge of it is like watching The Good Place and taking one introductory course in philosophy in university. Oh and I guess watching things like Philosophy tube, and there is philosophy in all my courses even if they’re not strictly labelled philosophy.

I dunno, I just love life and the lessons I take away from To The Moon boiled down and oversimplified is that hindsight is 20/20 HAHAHAHA. Sigmund in universe can use hindsight and alter memories but the virtual memories don’t negate the good lives in reality. We make choice and they may have ramifications but we won’t ever know the branching timelines and so we don’t have to dwell on it forever.

Oh yeah also the most important message: RICEBOT THE CREATOR OF WORLDS AND THE COOKER OF RICE. QUINCY WAS ROBBED OF HIS RICE REWARDS.