#like i said i have a good home life; rationally there should be nothing hurting me to this extent; but i guess i have a talent <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[berryblu-soda]

been hesitating to post this bc i usually try to be super chill and upbeat, but im also trying to be more genuine, so here it is i guess (im doing okay, dont worry)

this probably warrants a trigger warning even tho nothing ever really happened :/

i´d like to thank from the bottom of my heart the friends ive made on this silly little site, i may be a almost a stranger to some of you, im not the greatest at keeping contact with anyone, but if i call you a friend its because you have very special a place in my heart <3<3<3

when i first made tumblr i was really struggling, it felt almost impossible to see anything lovable in myself, if it were up to my whims back then, i wouldve made myself poof out of existence, leave no trace behind. "Goodbye to that worthless piece of trash, everythings so much better without her"

it wasn´t that there was anything wrong at home, my family´s always been nothing but loving and caring to me, but i just struggled to understand *why* that was, i wasn´t contributing financially, functionally, nor did i excell at absolutely anything (looking back, i didn´t have to, i was literally 14) , everything id ever been remotely good at i knew someone who was better than me by a long shot. i didn´t have any irl friends, i had my cousins, but being family it felt a little like they were conditioned and obligated to love me because we were family

i felt alone despite being surrounded by people who loved me, i´d grown too used to it to recognize it as genuine love, so meeting you guys really helped me know that hey! maybe people arent just nice to me because they feel obligated to be! you guys inadvertedly gave me the support i needed to continue living life! And for that im endlessly grateful for <3

i can recall several times, when i was beating myself up over the simplest of mistakes, i genuinely didn´t want to exist if i wasn´t perfect, but when my spiraling got too bad and i´d even start to think of how i´d explain to yall that i´d finally given up on living, i´d start bawling my eyes out, beause I couldn't do that to yall, I still had messages to reply to, friends to wish happy birthday to... i would be devastated if any of you guys left and i couldn´t do anything to help you

so i made myself stick around, to hold on to whatever i could even if it consisted of numbing myself to the point of it being unhealthy. and ive lost years trying to get a grip and snap back to reality, but i made it! im happy these days, and i know no matter what happens im glad im still alive. And hey, maybe i´ll start digging myself into a pit again eventually, this post has been sitting in my drafts a couple weeks and in that time ive had some less than ideal days where i felt myself slipping into that old, sad, lonely, self deprecating mentality, but the difference between back then and now is that now i know i made it out of there once, and i know what´s real because ive already recognized it before, my family isnt lying to me when they say they love me, my fiends arent lying to me when they say they care about me, the only one whos lying to me is myself, saying im not worth any of that. 

so i´ll say it again, thank you friends, for existing and being there, for being my lifeline and not letting me go off the deep end, and acting as band aids for my emotional self-inflicted wounds, i´m not sure how i can ever pay you back, i´m here if you ever need me, i love you, please take care <3

[ladylooch]

Drunk Me with Mat Barzal 

A/N: The people wanted angsty and fluffy. So, here is is :D 

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Drunk, Swearing, Angst, smidge of smut but I’m not gonna slap a warning on it cause I kept it PG13 (you’re welcome or I’m sorry?).

All the promises I made to myself before I got to the bar tonight have been broken.

Don’t think about Mat.

Don’t mix your alcohols.

Don’t cry in the bathroom.

Each one of them is smashed to smithereens on the wet, worn floor of the bar in our hometown of Coquitlam, BC.

At that realization, I suck up the last of my “I swear this is my last” vodka soda. 

I look to my left where my best friend, Maggie, is laughing with her new boyfriend. I scoff bitterly. We were supposed to be hot messes together this summer coming off long-term relationship break ups. Now, she’s moving on with the new love of her life, while I’m left to wallow about Mat being back in town.

Mat and I broke up months ago. Nothing crazy even happened between us. It was just the reality that we were at a pivotal relationship moment and I couldn’t do it. Mat said we are both on different paths, growing in different directions, but I don’t see it. Things were good how they were. He ruined it. Maybe on purpose. Maybe it was all just an excuse for him. Maybe Mat wants to fuck puck bunnies. I don’t know. All I do know is there is a gaping hole in my chest where my heart is supposed to be.

My chest is now heavy with grief and I consider going to the bar to get another vodka soda. But the neon signs are already spinning and another sip of alcohol will have me back in the bathroom, clutching a public toilet. A heat wave surges through my body and agitation crawls on my skin as I look at Maggie again. So much for girls’ night. Her new boyfriend showed up with a group of his friends and it became clear why we came here when I wanted to go somewhere else. Anywhere else. I hate this bar. Mat and I used to sit in that corner booth, disappearing from our friend group to touch each other and whisper the hot things we would do later.

It hurts to be here. 

“I need some air.” I announce to the bar, lifting my long hair off my neck as a wave of nausea rolls through me.

Mat was wrong. We haven’t grown apart. We just… grew up, together, and yeah, I didn’t want to move to New York, but what was wrong with what we had? I flew out there regularly. I stayed for weeks until I had to leave the country again. It wasn’t my fault the U.S. government is so strict. Mat did bring up getting me a special visa that the other Islander’s girls utilized. But it felt too… daunting. After I said no, he started creating distance, then he came home just to leave me.

I should have said yes. I know that now. And I’ve gone back to that moment weekly since he’s been gone. Every time, I say the right thing.

I let my hair fall back onto my neck once I’m outside. Anger burns in my rib cage, fueling an unreasonable reaction. I decide, drunkenly and months later, that he had no right to ask me to move to New York. He put me on the spot. It’s my life and I get to choose for me. But he made it an ultimatum without even telling me. If he would have said move here or break up, I would have at least known what I was up against!

And I’m going to tell him that.

Before my rational brain can catch up, my phone is out of my pocket and in my hand. I pound at his name, once, twice, three times until I actually get the call to go through with my swirling vision.

“Hello?” He’s groggy and my stomach lurches out of my abdomen at the thought of him in bed.

“You know, I have something to say to you.” I slur at him. I ignore the way my throat tightens at the sound of his sigh.

“Y/N?” I can practically hear him rubbing his eyes sleepily on the other line. It is getting close to bar close and he sounds like he’s been asleep. I hear rustling on the other end.

“Are you with someone?” I whisper before I can stop it.

“No?” I suck in a breath at his sharp tone. “Where are you?”

“At Pete’s.” I say, making my way over to the wall and leaning against it.

“Are you with someone?”

“I was with Maggie, but she’s sucking some guy’s face right now. I just want to go home.” I kick at a pebble with my boot, not even registering the whining and desperation in my voice.

“Is that what you called to tell me?”

“I… guess.” I squish my eyes together. Mat is quiet on the other end. The silence in the air is filled with tension as I watch people leave the entertainment district, catching rides and heading to their beds, most of them not alone unlike me. It makes my skin crawl, thinking of my empty bed where he should be, holding me and stroking my bare skin after a night of loving each other. I purse my lips. “Will you come get me?” I beg quietly, tears filling my voice.

More silence.

“I’ll be there in five.” He finally says as I hear him walking through his bedroom to get dressed again.

“Okay.” I click end, then lean back against the brick wall to wait.

His expensive black car rolls up, dark tinted windows making it difficult to see inside. He comes to a stop in front of me as people on the sidewalk stretch their necks to get a peek of who it might be. I suck my cheeks in, watching as his driver’s side door opens. He stands, turning to look at me still leaning against the wall. His black Adidas shirt is stretched wide across his chest. His arms rest against the door and the top of his car as he takes me in. My make up has long since peaked, so black mascara smudges around my eyes along with smeared pink lipstick.

“Let’s get you home.” He finally calls to me. I push off from the wall, glancing at the passerby’s who study us curiously. Everyone in this town knows Mat. They know me too, but mostly as his ex-girlfriend. They wonder what we are doing together now. I reach the passenger side door, popping it open after stealing one last glance at his face. He looks so good, nothing like he was just fast asleep until a pathetic girl called him into the nightlife.

“Are you okay?” He asks, the clicking of his blinker filling the car. I nod my head. “Do you still live in the same place?” I wince, hating the reality that he hasn’t been over since the Islanders were in town in January.

“Yeah.” I finally respond. I pull my phone out, texting Maggie that I went home so she doesn’t worry about me. I don’t bother telling her with whom.

I thought I missed Mat earlier tonight, but being in this car, feeling his heat and smelling his body wash is a whole new level of ache. I shouldn’t have called him. I should have Lyfted home and deleted his number. 

“This is nice.” I motion to the vehicle.

“Thanks. I wanted an upgrade from last year.” I think of the instagram stories he shared from New York with his big breasted rebound.

“In many areas.” I snort, my drunkenness becoming obvious to him with my loose tongue. Thankfully, Mat lets that comment slide off into the darkness, never to be mentioned again.

“How’s your mom doing?” He asks, switching to a seemingly safety subject.

“She’s good. She has this huge collection of jewelry she’s been making for the county fair. Tons and tons of really great pieces. She’s proud of how it’s all coming together. My brother is even building these cool floating-” I stop abruptly. The county fair I’m talking about is the place Mat and I had our first kiss six years ago. I don’t want to remember that night right now. Mat turns, expecting me to continue. “Yeah, she’s good.” I finish, looking out the windshield as he slows to a red light.

“That’s cool. Maybe I’ll stop by the fair to see her this year. It’s been awhile since I’ve been…” He trails off like he’s getting lost in a memory. I’m not self-centered enough to believe it’s about us. An uncomfortable silence descends that makes Mat cough before attempting small talk again.

“Um, how are you?” He wonders, thumb stroking against the leather of his steering wheel. The air conditioning blows heavily on my arms, making goosebumps tighten my skin. I push the vents to face away. Mat reaches for the air control, mumbling an apology.

“I’m… fine.” I finally settle on. “You?”

“Can’t complain.” He shrugs, turning onto my street.

“Thanks for coming to get me.” I tell him as he pulls to a stop in front of my building. He puts the car in park, but keeps the car running. I undo my seatbelt, slowly letting it fall back into the door. I turn to look at him, dying inside at his beautiful gaze looking back at me.

“You’re welcome. Glad you’re safe… and okay.” His eyebrows are furrowed as he stares down at the stereo rather than back at me.

I wait for another moment. I’m not sure what more I am expecting from this. Unfortunately, my drunken mind fills in the silence with more thoughts of us and New York. I can still see the devastated look on his face when I said no to moving. I hate how things ended with us. I hate my contribution to it and I hate that it’s so damn awkward being with him now. I purse my lips together, feeling emotion clog the back of my throat. I reach for the handle, pushing the door open and stepping out. I toss my purse back onto my shoulder, then lean down to meet his gaze again.

“I’m sorry.” I say to him, poking my head back into the car. I can’t let him leave without him knowing that.

“For what?” He asks, hand gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles.

“For not moving to New York.” I shut the door, expecting to hear his car peel off into the street. Instead, the purr behind me ceases. The pop of his door follows.

“You can’t just say that to me and walk away. I know you’re drunk, but that is not fair.”

“I’m just being honest.” I shrug, reaching for my keys in my purse, thankful they are still there. His footsteps get closer until his fingers reach around to grab my keys from my hand. He touches the fob to the door and holds it open for me to walk through. I pause, studying him. His long black hair flows against his forehead in a large curl that adds to his sexy agitation. 

“Go, please. I can’t not walk you up. It doesn’t feel right.” He waves me in.

“You don’t need to do me anymore favors.”

“It’s not for you.” He shakes his head, following me into the building. I press the up button on the elevator, then select 4 for my floor.

Mat and I look at each other. I’ve made something shifted between us. I wonder if he feels it too. The depth of his eyes makes me think he does, but the truth is, I don’t know Mat as well as I used to. He’s changed in the last six months. Yet, my feelings for him are just as consuming. All the things I want to say to him are pressing into my tongue until it feels like I’m choking on the words. I’m too drunk and lonely and I miss the way it feels when he hugs me. I drop my gaze from his, lips twisting into a grimace.

Mat opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but in the end he doesn’t. We walk silently down to my apartment. Mat still has my keys in his hand. Slowly, he brings them between us for me to grab. Now, our transaction is done. He’s walked me to the door. I have my keys. How do we say goodbye?

“Thank you.” I finally say, turning to put the key in the door and flipping the lock.

“Call anytime. I’ll always be here for you.” Mat says, shoving his hands into the pockets of his shorts. “Goodnight.” He gradually turns to walk back to the elevator.

“Mat.” I hear myself sputter.

Uh oh.

“Yeah?” He asks, turning around, eyebrows furrowed like he’s struggling internally.

“Will you stay? I don’t think I can be alone.”

Unexpectedly, Mat agrees then walks back to me. Once I push the door open, he goes casually towards my bedroom like he has hundreds of times before, pulling his shirt over his head as he goes. The defined muscles of his back make my mouth go dry. 

Our bodies go into autopilot, getting undressed and ready for bed in the way we always used to. It isn’t long before we are both under the blankets, firmly on our own sides of the mattress. Timidly, I feel Mat reach for me. I take his hand, letting him roll me onto my side so we are looking at each other, legs touching. The darkness masks our faces in shadows.

“Mat?”

“Hm?” His breathy grunt is warm against my forehead.

“Do you think of me when you’re in New York?”

“Of course I do. Why else would I be here?” I contemplate that for a moment, then continue.

“Are you going to regret this tomorrow?”

“Only if you do.”

- - - 

The next morning, I awaken to sunlight rudely brightening my room. I groan into my pillow, feeling around for the spare pillow on the other side of the bed to bring back darkness. Instead of cotton, I come in contact with a face. Everything in my stills. I don’t remember much from last night, except a faint memory of fingers stroking my back. Did we…?

“It’s me and no we didn’t do anything.” I hear Mat say. His voice is deep and rich from sleep. It puts me at ease. Until he reaches across the bed, pulling me into his body. It’s so intimate as he seals my butt to his lap, back to his chest. His hand snakes around my stomach, holding me in place.

“What are you doing?”

“I need to tell you something, but I want to feel you in my arms while I do.” I still, barely breathing as I feel his calm heartbeat against my back. “I shouldn’t have asked you to move to New York. It was too much. I didn’t think you were going to say no, and I still don’t quite understand why you did, but I respect your choice.” My eyes close and I settle myself deeper into his body. He responds with a tighter grip on me, nose pressing to my shoulder until he speaks again. “I’ve been missing you… and us… When you called last night, and asked me to stay, I felt happy for the first time in awhile. I fucked everything up.” I put my hand on his over my stomach, interlocking our fingers together.

“Mat, I ruined this. I should have said yes. I was just really scared. What if I moved there and it didn’t work out? How was I going to come back here after that? I never let myself consider how much better it could have been. And I should have."

“You know, there is still time for you to change your mind. We could start slow. You move into my place here. Then, you move one suitcase at a time to New York until somehow all your stuff is there?” I smile, turning to press my lips into his forearm beneath my head. I want that. Desperately.

“On one condition.”

“Anything. Probably.” His lips brush against my neck as he speaks, practically kissing me. Each brush has lightning bolting through my veins. He gathers the courage to fully press his lips on my neck. I bring my hand around, holding his face to my skin, savoring his sweet touch.

“Tell me you’re still in love with me.” I whisper.

“Of course I am.” He murmurs. “How could I stop?”

“You’re the love of my life, Mat Barzal.” I turn awkwardly in his arms so our lips can connect. We make out. Every month, week and day we have spent apart has us greedily sucking each other. His hands run down my body, gripping my ass in his palms as I hook a leg over him.

“Somethings never change.” He says against my mouth, teeth connecting with my lips as he laughs. “Your nights at Pete’s still ends with mornings like this.” Mat ruts our hips together, building our excitement.

I think back to the promises I made in this bed last night before I went out, laughing at how each one of those broken agreements lead me to exactly where I wanted to be anyway.

Thank you, drunk me.

[cienie-isengardu]

Why should Kuai Liang even try or want to lead the people who: 1. Ran him and Tomas out of their home 2. Tried to kill him in his wedding 3. Attempted to or killed many of his friends?

Kuai has no footing there in Lin Kuei. They blindly followed Bi-Han to commit crimes in a cowardly ambush and most don't regret what they did after all if the dialogues are any indication. They're as bad as the old timeline Lin Kuei.

While Kuai Liang has to eventually unite both clans, now can't be the time. They've hurt and abused him too much.

Before I answer your very good question, let me preface it by saying this: I do not have a habit to base my judgment on source material I’m not familiar with, especially when the source in question is not even officially released yet. Thus I can’t and at this moment won’t address the Lin Kuei attack on Kuai Liang at his wedding, because - again, officially - it did not happen yet and so far beside spoilers and leaks I DID NOT READ, there is only Kuai Liang’s ending hinting at this upcoming confrontation that hardly looks like cowardly ambush, as both forces face each other while preparing themselves for fight.

Not saying leaks won’t turn out to be true, but I wish to see the storyline and examine source material to get the whole picture before leaping to any conclusion. The fandom is already emotionally explosive as it is and I do not wish to add fuel to it based on things I heard so far from other fans. So you need to forgive me skipping this certain part - once the NRS releases the expansion story mode we can happily come back to the matter.

Now, for the rest of your question, Lin Kuei hurting Kuai Liang is nothing new. His character arc in original and alternative timelines walked this road already. 

His own father, a Lin Kuei warrior himself, kidnapped Kuai Liang and Bi-Han, presumably killing the boys’ mother and younger sister in the process. He and his brother were forced into a clan that trained them into merciless assassins, taking away any chance for normal and safe childhood. After Bi-Han’s death, Kuai Liang was hunted down, his friends turned into soulless machines, or in an alternative timeline he himself became Cyber Sub-Zero against his will. And he still fought tooth and nail to take over this morally corrupt clan - a clan that hurted him emotionally and physically, a clan that exploited him and Bi-Han for literal decades. All to set Lin Kuei on a (more) righteous path. Because despite what happened, or how cold-hearted over the years Kuai Liang became, he cared for Lin Kuei. If not for people itself, then for principles like honor, legacy and duty. His dedication to the clan, the desire to reclaim lost honor and build a better future for his people overcame any other senses. 

Is that a realistic choice to make? In real life most likely not. If Kuai Liang was a real human being, then absolutely his safety and emotional peace of mind should come above any duty or responsibility to the family that on purpose hurted him and his friends. And the safety and people who deeply and sincerely care for him would be the thing I wished for him. But since Kuai Liang is fictional character and as such represents specific archetypes and themes that are part of bigger worldbuilding, I do think Netherrealm Studio’s eventual choice to remove Kuai Liang from his own legacy will simply not work. Not just from the perspective of the story but also from the perspective of MK1 Scorpion’s character arc. 

(And yes, I said I won’t judge characters and events on source material that isn’t even released yet and maybe the expansion story mode will provide rational and sensible reasons behind NRS’ choices. So this is less judging Kuai Liang as character for his (authors’) choice and more explaining my own feelings on the matter.)

I assume the question "Why should Kuai Liang even try or want to lead Lin Kuei" comes from my previously posted statement:

“But if Kuai Liang decided to not replace Bi-Han as Grandmaster and fulfill his duty, then half of the intros will sound very hypocritical of him, I think? Original/alternative Kuai Liang dedicated his life to reforming his clan because he cared for Lin Kuei. Scorpion!Kuai Liang appointing someone else to rule it is, wow, weird as hell. ”

and I stand by it. We all may argue over this or that character’s choice, but there is no doubt that Mortal Kombat has a certain theme assigned to each character. Kuai Liang’s from the start is “Honor” and “Duty”, be it to Earthrealm or father’s teaching.

A trait he shares with original/alternative Kuai Liang and ironically, the strong sense of duty is what he and MK1 Bi-Han have in common too. Their sense of duty is currently contradictory, but both brothers put duty to clan (Bi-Han) or to Earthrealm/tradition (Kuai Liang) over their own blood ties. Now, the thing with Scorpion is that available source material clearly states Kuai Liang:

Always wanted to be Lin Kuei and nothing else

Did not give up on Lin Kuei and is willing to battle with Bi-Han for control over the clan and brings it to its original purpose

This was established in

Scorpion’s Bio before the game even came out

Like his cherished father, Scorpion is dedicated to the Lin Kuei and its defense of Earthrealm. When his father died, Scorpion was bereft. Though he took pride in knowing that his brother, Sub-Zero, would succeed their father as the Lin Kuei's grandmaster. But Sub-Zero's unprecedented moves to cast off the Lin Kuei's traditional duties have frozen Scorpion's enthusiasm. He fears that one day he may have to battle his brother for control of the Lin Kuei's legacy.

hinted/ mentioned in the story mode itself

Kuai Liang: "I knew Bi-Han's frustrations ran deep. But I never thought they could inspire such madness. We can't let his corruption spread."

&

Tomas: "That the Lin Kuei won't aid us is unforgivable. Bi-Han has corrupted them totally." Kuai Liang: "When this crisis ends, we will deal with that one."

repeated in intro dialogues:

Raiden: Did you ever want to be an Earthrealm champion? Scorpion: I have only ever wanted to be Lin Kuei.

or

Geras: Your brother's Lin Kuei are an obstacle to peace. Scorpion: It is *my* duty to deal with them.

or

Scorpion: I fear the Lin Kuei is beyond redemption. Scorpion: Together, we will restore its honor.

or

Scorpion: From the ashes, the Lin Kuei will be reborn. Sub-Zero: Do not presume you can burn it down.

and again stated in Scorpion’s ending:

"No sooner had Titan Shang Tsung been defeated than Bi-Han and his loyalists hunted us down. Outnumbered, we fled to Japan. There we sought refuge from an old family friend. As children, we played together. But Harumi Shirai was a woman now, the head of her clan. Her strength, beauty, and intellect awed me. Also incensed by Bi-Han's betrayal, Harumi agreed to help me forge a new clan. One that would stand against him and defend Earthrealm. Her aid proved invaluable. And as time went on, we grew closer. To honor Harumi and pay respects to my new bride, I named the clan after her, calling it the Shirai Ryu. Now the battle against my brother begins in earnest. The Shirai Ryu won't rest until Bi-Han is defeated and the Lin Kuei's honor restored."

Current version of Kuai Liang is a mix of his original and Hasashi Hanzo’s traits, however despite the differences between MK1 and previous timelines, he never truly gave up on Lin Kuei. Shirai Ruy is a means to both protect Earthrealm and to bring back his original clan to its honorable roots. Even if we may argue Kuai Liang doesn’t care anymore for his rebellious brother or Lin Kuei warriors that hunted him and Tomas, Lin Kuei is still his rightful legacy - abandoning it completely, giving up on centuries old tradition would mean abandoning his cherished father and the man’s teachings. Something Kuai Liang refused to do repeatedly and was catalyst for the conflict between brothers.

So though it is understandable that Kuai Liang (and Tomas) may not wish to live with people that turned against him and brought so much misfortune - something that most sane humans would choose - he is still a Grandmaster’s son and pragmatic leader. The same as Bi-Han, Kuai Liang is a dutiful man that puts duty above personal feelings. Him letting Lin Kuei to be ruled by themselves (and in case of Cyrax, by one that once was Bi-Han’s absolute loyalist as stated by him in story mode) won’t resolve the conflict. The risk to Earthrealm will be still there, and any new conflict between Shirai Ryu and Lin Kuei will be in great part his fault. Because he had a chance to unite two clans into even greater power for Earthrealm’s sake yet choose the “easy way out” by putting someone else in position of power, I presume hoping said person will share his mindset. Not to mention that with Smoke and Harumi at his side, Kuai Liang has a trusted family to either entrust the new clan under their care or be protected by them while he is cleaning up the mess created by his brother. 

For me, Kuai Liang rejecting his duty as rightful heir (that allows him to actively control and redeem Lin Kuei), also rejects his loyalty and duty to late father, Liu Kang and Earthrealm’s safety. But above everything else it put the whole Scorpion’s character arc into question - what was the point of all of this if ultimetaly he did not fulfill his goal of bringing Lin Kuei back to its honorable ways and ensuring personally it stays the way for good? A goal so clearly established in source material? Does that sounds satisfactionally to anyone? To be invested into the crusade against corruption of cherished tradition and father’s teaching only for character to ditch the responsibility like it never mattered in the first place?

Of course, this is just my speculation and personal feelings. Maybe the expansion story will lay out a well-thought-out, logical course of events that will perfectly excuse the change in Scorpion’s character arc or what will be the final deal between Lin Kuei, Shirai Ryu and Liu Kang. I’m holding back my final judgment over it as much as I can, but to be honest, I’m a bit worried at the prospect that Kuai Liang can be removed permanently from his Lin Kuei’s Legacy.

In regard to: “They blindly followed Bi-Han to commit crimes in a cowardly ambush and most don't regret what they did after all if the dialogues are any indication. They're as bad as the old timeline Lin Kuei.” The same as withholding my judgment over the attack during Kuai Liang’s wedding, I have nothing to say at this moment about your statement. I did not read leaks and so far people threw spoilers at me that I have no will to research for confirmation, because again, I would like to experience the story mode as it is in the final form. Maybe the leaks provided enough data, but at this moment I personally did not read anything from Lin Kuei’s perspective that didn’t come from Bi-Han, Tomas or Kuai Liang. Still, I doubt MK1 Lin Kuei are even close to being as bad as the original clan. From what I know so far, Sub-Zero does not sell their skills for the best bidding the way assassin Lin Kuei did, so there is a reason to assume MK1 Bi-Han does not exploit its people the way original Sub-Zero brothers were. 

Though I think we could also argue that what people call “blindly following Sub-Zero” is less about enjoying the criminal activity on their part and more about fulfilling their duty, as Lin Kuei pledged to obey their leader. Which raises an interesting question, if personal morality should stand above one’s duty the way Kuai Liang and Tomas rejected Bi-Han, or it is the other way. I assume the answer will vary from one person and culture to another but the game most likely won’t explore this sadly.

Once the story is out, I’m more than happy to come back to discussion about Lin Kuei’s morality if anyone will be still interested 🙂

[perchanceapoet]

It has sort of been a crazy few months. Or make that a crazy year.

We are moving, to start somewhere. After three years of searching, we are finally moving to the house with the garden my husband wanted so desperately.

Which, when I say it like that, sounds like I did not want this. And yes, I wanted this, but truth be told , I would have also been happy to stay where we are. That is more my weird semi-irrational emotional attachment to this house than anything else, though.

So, we are moving. By Christmas, we should be laying down presents in the house we will grow geriatric in. Perhaps the house we will die in. If we do not make it to the nursing home.

Yes. I am in that kind of mood. Mostly because of this other thing.

We are undergoing future human making treatment. Or I am. And like. I am not even going to mince words. It sucks huge balls. And we got the easy treatment. I mean, they do not call it the easy treatment, but it is heavily implied.

Let's just say there's a number of tries after which this should work, and we're about at the halfway point. After this, there is still another option. But that one is, you guessed it, one of the more hard/complicated ones. So, I am here. Halfway in. And despite my husband's constant optimistic reassurances, I am taking stock of it all. Standing still and just thinking out loud. Sorry if you feel like I dragged you into this. I can ramble.

Honestly? There's a part of me that wants to quit right now. Just let my body also be a failure at this one thing that does not require a functional neurological system. I always said, before all of this, that I would let the universe decide. And I will be damned if this isn't a crystal clear message of "it's not going to work".

But then there's the part of me that loves this man beyond reason and comprehension. That wants to leave something of him behind. When our geriatric bodies do or do not leave our new home in between four pieces of wood. The part of me that can just picture this future human, how much I would love it. How much we would love it. How happy we would be. That is the part that has made me start every new cycle of treatment thus far.

But, halfway in, I cannot help but start to grapple with the reality that this may all be for nothing. I mean, even if it works. There is a whole lot of possible calamity ahead. At some point, it will just be too much. Too late. Too complicated. I will be too old.

Stopping now would also mean that I would never really know if my body is also a failure at this. This very basic thing. And I am not going to lie, I kind of like the idea of living with the possibility of what could have been rather than knowing that it just does not work.

I feel guilty for being so broken up by this. I was never 100% team future humans, and I am still not. I think any rational minded person should be on the fence about it. I mean, there's climate change, just to name something. I think for me, as a neurodivergent person, at this point, it is still more about my body failing me in this entirely new way. And it's about letting go of the image of my husband and this future human walking into the library together. That one hurts like balancing Mount Everest on my chest.

But I do feel guilty. I mean, I have this life twelve year old me could have never dreamed of. That isolated, bullied, traumatized girl would have been so relieved to find out it ends up like this. And incredulous. Future humans or not; this, loving this man, having these friends, buying this house, it's all icing on the cake.

So, I am torn. And probably forced to take a break from treatment due to circumstances. I don't know how I will feel when the crimson invader comes next time. But I will probably start the treatment. And it will probably not work. And I will probably have another good cry. And I will remind myself of all the things I have to be grateful for. And I will be grateful, so very grateful and also ugly crying.

Both can be true. I keep telling myself that. I can be not 100% team future humans and broken up by this. I can be grateful and sad. I can start treatment again and think it's a bad idea. I can live another day and hope and trust that whoever or whatever has gotten me this far knows the way. That future me has gotten through this. I hope she is ok, regardless.

[kojandra]

Idk how they're supposed to communicate and rebuild their relationship when one of them has diminished mental capacity? I'm so confused is HI acting like this part of her character development where she'll realize she was just as responsible for the mess of their marriage as he is or is the writer actually acting like the entire thing is on HW? bc why is she acting like she was an amazing wife and he just betrayed her rather than she treated him awfully and let her family do the same. He's always the one reaching out and apologizing and I'm starting to think this is the way it's gonna be for the entire show

From how I interpret the plot right now, Hae In will go through cycles in her "present-ness". She will forget recent memories and be as innocent as she was before she got angry about recent events then discover the current state of her life (divorce, betrayal, etc.) and do it all over again. I definitely think there will be events that open them up to each other whether it's when she's aware of current events (angry) or forgetful of those (gentle). Hyun Woo will be suffering continuously because he has to watch his wife get hurt in cycles whereas she will only be hurt when she rediscovers the betrayal from him (in cycles).

I can defend each character to a certain extent. For Hae In, she thinks she was a good wife mainly because (I mean, look at the way her family is...) of the way she was brought up. To be cold, calculating, cut-your-losses type business woman. But she wasn't always like this! She used to care openly and be warm towards Hyun Woo. We used to be a society!! Hae In was trying to deal with her loss of the child by moving things out because she didn't want to be reminded of them. (I seriously think they should have talked at this point). But then Hyun Woo, I assume wanted to keep the things while he mourned, was the one who instructed the housekeepers to move his things out of the master bedroom without explaining anything to Hae In. She thought he needed space to mourn and that he will come back when he's done. She always waited for him to come home, and she always stood on the other side of the door. He didn't know she'd welcome him in, but she always wanted to. (again, this couple.....does not know how to talk to each other...). She also defended him from Soo Cheol in episode 1 ("don't disrespect my husband ever again") so I feel like she was doing that all this time.

The cyclic nature of her memories will trigger something in Hyun Woo to initiate change (I hope!) to address this. I hope her memories of her "present" state will carry over into her next cycle of presentness so that she will be kinda living in two timelines. I know and believe Hyun Woo will find a way to talk to his wife in rationality. And more so, taking care of and finding those windows of rationality of your feisty wife who is also a patient is not easy. They are both trying their best.

I do have a theory that Hae In is getting poisoned at her home because when have we ever seen Hae In hallucinating in Germany??? (That semi truck scene does NOT count because she was out of it from all the shock and wanting to die because she has nothing to live for anymore). And wtf is a cloud cytoma???? (I tried looking for it online and it's a made up disease....the plot can literally go anywhere and I'm terrified!)

I feel like Hyun Woo definitely wears his heart on his sleeve more than Hae In, which is where we see their differences in their approach to reconciliation (in the present, at least). But as seen in episode 7, Hae In can show emotions too! In her state of forgetfulness of recent events, she said "I love you" to him the first time (that we've seen). And talked to him a lot more openly than we've seen before. Hae In definitely realizes she’s the problem too. In the epilogue scene for episode 7 she says “no wonder he married me when I said I’d make him happy.” Then her FACE after…yeah I definitely think she knows.

I believe this drama will be the journey to finding that communication and love and trust between the two (while dealing with all the shit in the world).

I hope we get a full arc for these characters! They're so complex with lots of push and pull and deserve some good angst and development.

(but please....let them be happy in the end).....

[scribiel]

Maybe The Real Treasure Was You.

content warning : satoru gojo x fem! reader , written in epistolary and implicit form , basically getting out from an abusive person to a breath of fresh air (satoru)

Satoru, will you forgive my soul, for it is already tainted by dirt and unimaginable things? Let me explain it to you. There was a point in my life where I was a pawn, a robot, a puppet with strings; my whole life I had been that day, ordered and knew no destination, prize, and something to die for but his order. 

When I passed through the point of no return, I met you there. Strange. And long story short, we had the same destination. But you, you didn’t choose that destination because someone ordered you to, but because you wanted to. For once, I wanted to know what freedom would taste like. And all I knew was that one of my strings broke off.

Along the journey, my master passed away. I no longer had a purpose of living, a destination to obtain, and a place to call home. Then there was you, telling me, “You’ll be alright. As you know”—your finger tapped my left chest, my heart— “you should always make a home in your own self. We are always on our own.”

I almost lost it, but amidst the chaos and everything that was collapsing, you were there. You kept it together. I was, until this day, wondering how could someone so strong, yet so gentle and soft to keep me from falling apart? 

But you, you were not like my master. Your hands kept me together, yet never held me down. You gave me advice from your rationality and what you saw fit, but you never forgot to inquire about how I thought and felt about it. You said it was a discussion. For two people. For middle ground. For the comfort we share. For the sake of us both. 

But what were we back then? Teammates? Friends? Partners? I didn’t know either. But, thanks to you, I knew what freedom was; how it felt to be seen, heard, and appreciated felt like; how easy it was to roll your opinion off your tongue without being strangled after. You had given me the taste of fresh air, clear water, and freedom. And all I knew, I wanted to latch onto you for the longest time.

But, Satoru, there was lots of damage my master had done. Irreversible. My hands had touched, hurt, and done unspeakable things in the name of his, for the sake of him. Yet, you never once hesitated to hold them. I was ashamed; you were the kindest being to ever touch me to the deepest core of my existence: my heart and soul.

Satoru, the dragons were nothing to me when you stood by me; I stood tall. I was so ashamed for who I was; therefore I wanted to change who I was to be the one who’s deserving to call you home. I was more ashamed when you gave me wings. You helped me to fly. You gave me your strength whenever I lost mine. You strengthen every weakened part that I had. Polished any dull edges of me, making them the shiniest of me. You told me, “It’s a good thing that I met you. I really really enjoy your companion. I hope you want to keep me company after we reach our destination”—you held your chin, a smirk painted across your face—”and maybe let’s have lots of adventures on our own?” 

I am forever grateful, Satoru. My answer was, is, and will remain ‘yes’. I am nothing without you, but with you, what I am is a different thing. You are such a wonderful magician, making all my scars as if they were never there. Back then, I didn’t care anymore whether we were going to reach the destination or not. Because you’ve become my destination. A starting, an ending, and everything in between. You have become someone whom my heart, now, always calls and longs for.

any feedback is welcome here

[poutyniall]

How are you doing, apu?

I hope good...

Tesoro 💜 how are you? How life is treating you? Tell me something nice that happened to you recently.

Well, regarding Yoongi, ehm, I'm feeling a bit bittersweet, if it makes any sense. I mean, I was happy to see him (he looked sooo healthy and fine as always!) yesterday during the live and I'm so glad to know he's been resting and eating well and spending time with people who love him. He also got a haircut and I do not like that, no no. But he's still cute as hell tho. From what I understood, but take it with a pinch of salt 'cause I'm stupid and I'm probably wrong, he's going to do social service - I'm assuming due to his shoulder - which means he'll be able to go back home at the end of the day, sleep in his comfy bed, be in his house, work on music if he feels like it, see his friends and family a little bit more often. Also, if I remember correctly, in one of suchwita episodes, he said he wanted to experience a 9-5 job and that's another good point in his favor. The service time has also been reduced to 21 months, I think. But again, I could be wrong, I don't know. But yeah, I'm happy for him but I'm sad for me 'cause it hurts. In an extremely selfish way, I don't want him to go. And listen, I'm well aware that, practically, nothing will change in my life because Min Yoongi, flesh and bones, is not part of my daily, real life but. But. Still. Just the mere thought of him leaving... it hurts and I cannot tell why, I don't know the rational reason but I do know that the feeling is there. And it's pretty real. I'm really trying not to think about it 'cause 2025 will come, eventually. He's gonna come back to us. He promised.

About everything else, I'm a fucking mess. I went to the gynecologist 'cause my period is so bad I can't leave the house the first two days and she said I can't take the pill due my migraines which means I need to try the cup. Now, I bought the cup and period'll come within days but I'm scared. I'm fucking terrified. I believe I'll cry. About the bookstore, I've been doing researches, I've asked around (basically I annoyed the shit out of my poor cousin) and having it in a mall is a big no for two reasons: it's a much higher investment, obviously, and I should do it with some franchise BUT, in that case, I'll feel trapped, creatively speaking, because with them every store has to be the same and there isn't much you can do. But I have a different project (like, I've already thought about the name, I have 3, and I can already picture myself with brushes and paint and tools renovating the place.. I mean it, I can actually see myself doing it). I want a reading corner with pillows and blankets and I want to offer tea and cookies and pastries and I want to include second/third hand books so they can keep on living instead of collecting dust on a shelf. The first step is to find a place and rent it or buy it, I don't know. I know nothing, everything is new, big and scary and I wish my father would tell me 'hey, I know it's scary, it'll be challenging and still it may be a failure but I've got your back, I'm here' instead of 'I wouldn't do it, it's too much responsibilities, find an office job and don't think about it.' Thanks for the support, dad.

I could go on and on and on but I've run out of energy

[spiderhamper001]

Acceptance of Rage

Rage.

An intense feeling of anger. It's unique to every person and for me it burned. Filled my veins, deafened my senses, clouded my mind.

It tires to consume… everything. 

Everything.

Some think anger is darkness invading. That it poisons the mind, blackens the heart, and turns even the kindest of men wicked.

It is my belief that it isn't darkness invading but an extension of ourselves. It does not blacken your heart, it is your heart and just like your heart It can not be removed, only taken care of.

My father was a patient man. He rarely yelled, rarely cried, he was always kind, and always loving. To me my father was perfect, everything a man should be.

Wise.

Strong.

Empathetic.

He was also an angry man though you wouldn't know it because unlike so many he had mastered his anger.

I was so lucky. So incredibly blessed and I knew it.

Who wouldn't want a father like him?

If I became even a quarter of the man he was, I think I would be a pretty good man.

Yet… yet…

Yet as he grew older, he grew sicker. Decades of smoking and drinking and back breaking labor finally catching up but It didn't change anything, not really.

Not for me.

He was still the incredible man I desperately wanted to emulate but a part of me, a part I so desperately wished didn't exist, grew angry at him.

Resentful.

How dare he fall victim to the passage of time? How dare he sleep all morning, all afternoon, and all night? How dare he need help breathing?

How dare he?

How dare he?!

…How dare I feel this way about the man who did nothing but love and support me? How dare I belittle him, even just in my own mind, for being less than superman?

How dare I?

How dare I?!

how dare I…

He died on a cold October night. It both came as a surprise and didn't. It was my mom who found him but it was me who was pumping his chest, terrified I was hurting him, killing him, begging in a God I didn't believe in not to take him away.

Of course, despite my begging, he died not long later.

Rage didn't begin to describe what I was feeling. How do you describe that a piece of your soul had been lopped off? That despite your still beating heart and your ever expanding lungs you felt like you were dying?

How do you explain the burning fury that sat in your heart that refused to be dosed no matter how much you begged and pleaded for it to disappear?

How?

My father taught me that anger can not be bartered with, can not be rationalized, and it Can. Not. Be. Ignored.

He was right.

Try all you like. I know I have.

I say this as a man who has been forced to deal with a tragedy and still has not moved past it. I say this as a man who lies in bed crying, wishing with all his being that my father was still walking beside me. I say this as a man who looks at his reflection and wonders what if I had said goodnight one last time, hours before my mother came home and saw the man who taught me how to be a man barely breathing?

Would he still be alive? 

Would those few extra hours have saved him?

Probably.

… Most definitely. Though I guess we'll never know, will we?

I will have to forever live with the fact that I could have saved my father's life, and may forever live with the anger that knowledge brings. 

Though I get to choose how I express that anger. I get to choose how I deal with it. I get to choose the type of angry man I am and I choose to accept it. 

I will not bottle the anger and I will not hide from it and I certainly will not use it as a weapon against others.

I know many men who lash out like wild animals when enraged, who become cruel and vengeful at those who fan their flames of rage. 

I know men who grow cold in their ire, become little more than emotionless dolls who refuse to face their temper with any semblance of courage.

And I know men who sit with their anger until it becomes a drowning sadness that drags them to the bottom of the sea, never to return again.

We may not get to choose what we feel but we always have a choice in the actions we take while feeling them.

My father lived a good life. He had a loving wife, a successful daughter and, if I dare say so, a good son. 

My father lived a full life; one full of mistakes, of triumphs, of lost chances, and fulfilled dreams.

My father wasn't born a perfect man and he didn't die as one either. Like all of us he was forced to grow, and to learn. 

He died an imperfect man, as we all do but he did die a good man and I suppose that is all we can hope for.

He died in his sleep. Free of pain and grief. 

He is mourned wholly and missed dearly.

I am an angry man, a rageful one. I am angry at many things, some deserved and some not but my anger does not define me, just as it didn't define my father.

I won't let it. 

It may burn but it will not consume.

When my time comes I will die as an imperfect man, a man who has made mistakes, who triumphed over his obstacles, I will lose chances to improve my life and I will fulfill some of my dreams. I may die with a loving wife, a successful daughter, and hopefully, a good son but even if I do not, I will die a good man.

A wise one.

A strong one.

An empathetic one.

As my father before me.

More short stories like this can be found on my patreon: Spiderhamper_

[skulkdecayed]

I am genuinely so fucking worthless. I work full-time a shitty minimum wage job (which I'm barely good at) and make barely any money (which I'm awful at managing), I'm supposed to be a full-time but because I'm so fucking stupid and awful at functioning like a normal fucking person I fail most of my classes and then lie about it to my parents so they won't be mad at me more than they already are. I piss off the people around me, including my wonderful girlfriend. I don't know why she tolerates me. she's so smart and driven and actually has a future ahead of her. she's kind and funny and beautiful, meanwhile I'm a nuisance anyone around me. I don't communicate right, I don't put effort into the right things, I'm not good at academics and I don't try hard enough to make up for that. what future could I actually have? oh wow, good for you that you started Testosterone- does that give you literally any worth as a person? it doesn't make me smarter, or better at time management, or even fucking likeable. it wont make me attractive since there's nothing to work with in that department, I can't even take care of myself. im emotionally incompetent and that weighs down on my friends, since I can't provide them anything. all I do is take up space. I'm so much of a coward and a little bitch that I can't even do anything about it. I keep telling myself that they'd be sad if I killed myself, that my cat would be confused, that they all care about me and love me, but I don't know why they should. I don't even like myself. I fucking hate myself actually. I'd hurt myself again if it'd do anything other than make me look like an attention seeker in their eyes. the fact that I'm worthless isnt their problem, I shouldn't be bringing it to their attention more than they already can tell. my job is comic relief and to provide my friendship to them, this pity party bullshit isn't good for them. she said she isn't mad, but I don't believe her. I can't even just say no to her, its always "or you shouldn't have to" or "well its not your problem" and she doesn't fucking get how serious I'm being. she SHOULDNT have to deal with be being so stupid!! she shouldn't have to put up with me! I love her so much and I'd do anything to make her happy. she's the light of my life, quite literally. it's such an awful thing to say, but I'd be hurting myself a lot more if we weren't dating. she'd notice if I suddenly had open wounds or scars or something. she'd notice because she's a good person and then she'd have to pity me. the more I think about it, the more I want to. I can't even go home because it'd be easier to do it there and hide the evidence. I could break open one of my shaving razors like I did in middle school. I deserve to be in pain for being so worthless. I need some kind of punishment or something for making other people deal with me. I don't want to be alone, I know I shouldn't be when i think like this, but reaching out to them and telling them that just forces them to fix a problem that isn't theirs. I won't end anything, I'm rational enough right now for that, but the middle ground is very tempting. I deserve it. I could be in such a better situation if I wasn't useless and actually did something about it. maybe I should use that effort to make up for how worthless I've become. I love the people in my life, but I hate my actual life so much. I'm scared of missing out on them; growing old with my girlfriend, movie nights with our friends, the future we all could have. but I'll be never be good enough for that future. the awful life I have right now will never get better if this is the best I can be. I'll never earn that future and I'll be left behind as they all suceed. I want to be better, but I never make the effort to. they don't need to know how I feel. this is my fault, my problem to fix, and if I can't finally do something with myself then they don't need to know about it.

[u5an5]

Jacobs' Journal: Tape #7 - Regrets

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.

[START LOG]

Jacobs: Personal log.

Jacobs: ...I hate this time of year. You think with all the horrific acts we do, the monsters we house, that would make any rational mind question the mere existence of God- at least, one of them...

Jacobs: <disgusted> There wouldn't be so much bloody cheer in the air. The smiling and well-wishes are insufferable. Half the bloody staff should be locked up in here!

Jacobs: *whispering* Sickening.

[Rest bellow the cut]

Jacobs: Luckily, *putting down a glass filled with ice, then pouring something into it while he's talking* they're either all on holiday or asleep. Only me and good friend Jack to keep me company.

Jacobs: <monotonously> Jack understands. We like Jack. … (gulp) Ah... He too appreciates the silence and isolation. Doesn't mindlessly wish me a Merry Christmas or Happy Hanukkah like he's the bastion of good memories. Jack makes me numb. (longer gulp) He helps me forget.

Jacobs: December is just any other month to him... and treats me the same. He doesn't pretend to be tolerant for some predetermined date, <voice gradualy louder, growing agitated> doesn't front me with some blissfully ignorant personality, blind that the world exists along with all the problems that come with it, <much louder> he shuts up and. Keeps! Working! <shouting> Why the hell is that so hard for other people to understand?!! *throws the doors of a cabinet closed*

Jacobs: ... (gulp) …… (quiet exhale)

Jacobs: <much calmer> Doesn't bother me *puts down the glass* I was born unto addicts *pours more into glass* so desperate for a hit, they tried to pawn me off like a cheap lamp. *pick ups the glass* Being taken in *starts to swirl the glass* by pair of loveless chauvinists who couldn't care as much about my mental health as the stipends that funded their lavish lifestyles, (sip) leaving the rest of the children to hurt me from the inside-out.

Jacobs: No, those memories don't bring me pain. They don't bring me pleasure, but at least I knew I could escape from them. (gulp)

Jacobs: (sigh) Someday,... I'd move away somewhere they could never find me, and none of it would matter. No more systematic abuse from a family of egomaniacs, no more religious summer camps where the volunteers and inadvertently numbed me to pain. (mirthless chuckle)

Jacobs: Copulation was never an interest of mine. I don't hate it because of what they did, but I won't thank them for the nightmares either. (long sip) So, when I could leave, I did. Cut off my old life. Never looked back. Every time one of these BS holidays rolled around, I just shut off the world's best I could.

Jacobs: Except one year when I was invited to a party off campus. I was studying Law, wanted a major in the International sector. <muffeled due him talking while holding the glass right next to his lips> Back when I still thought I could make a difference. (gulp) Few people from my class said I should come along and have some fun, since I always seem so angry all the time.

Jacobs: I wasn't angry: I was focused. But... I figured, why not? (sip) Semester was over, might be a good distraction for my hollow personal life, living from paycheck to paycheck. So I went... and it started out well... Then I felt the alcohol hit me. Except it was more than that. (gulp) But before I could do anything, I was already slipping out of consciousness. When I woke up, I was in an alleyway, robbed blind, and far away from home.

Jacobs: They even took my shoes (long sip) I was late for my job, got fired, couldn't pay rent. Cops told me they didn't have enough to charge anyone on, wouldn't be able to take them to court if they did... and so I found myself so disillusioned by this whole "life" thing and dropped out. Not that I could afford to stay and finish my degrees anyway.

Jacobs: ... I did what anyone who no longer values that life and feels nothing eternally would do: I joined the army. (sip) I managed to find something there that I hadn't elsewhere: a job I'm actually good at. I rose in the ranks, got myself noticed, and more importantly, had a knack for survival. That's when a branch of the CIA picked me up as a field agent. I was also being scoped out by the Foundation as a potential insurgent. Didn't know, didn't really care.

Jacobs: All I wanted was to die, on my own terms, and with as much of a fight as possible. (sip) It's just my nature. (longer sip) Somehow, I made friends during this time. Some were buddies in the field, others were part of my taskforce. Trusting them with my life, and having it saved in some tight spots, made me actually appreciate their existence... as well as my own. (sip) Lasted all of two years.

Jacobs: I was captured during one of my assignments to stifle the operations of an arms smuggler in Costa Rica, run by a recluse known only as the Viscount. They tortured me for information, fractured my bones, took a few teeth, fingernails. (sip) They didn't understand. I was already broken. I had nothing to say to them, especially once they told me exactly who sold me out.

Jacobs: You don't- really have friends in this world. Just people who take a little longer backstabbing you than others. I suppose they thought it would... demoralise me knowing who they were, <gleefully> but it just strengthened my beliefs. <muffled by glass> I was ready to die. (gulp)

Jacobs: *voice starts to slurr slightly, alcohol catching on* They stuck me... in this tiny dirt hole with another captive, a woman called Marta. She'd been a farmer most of life, and we've been leading a caravan of supplies to the city when they were attacked. As far as she knew, Marta had been the only survivor.

Jacobs: At first, I was standoffish. Every advance she made to communicate, I shrugged off. I didn't need more liabilities, I was getting what I wanted. What I deserved. (sip)

Jacobs: <voice slightly more slurring> After a bout of electroshock torture, I very nearly did die. The light took over my vision and my body felt cold. Should have made me afraid, but in all honesty, I was ready.

Jacobs: Didn't expect to wake up back in the hole, being nursed back to health by the one person I'd shunned for trying to make a connection. As I lay there in her lap, the warmth returning to me, my vision clearing, I actually felt a calmness wash over me. For the first time, someone was caring for me. (deep breath) It only exposure to a selfless act, *puts the glass down* and I was humbled by it.

Jacobs: Marta and I exchanged our stories, and talked about what we do if we had ever make back home. I... (sigh) didn't contribute much to that part of the conversation, but Marta had a brother she'd long hope to reunite with on the other side. It made me smile hearing how passionate she was to see him again, but there was another reason why she wanted to get out of South America.

Jacobs: Marta needed treatment for a condition that creates blood clots in the body. Get one in the wrong place, and you suffer a slow and painful death. Get one in even worse place, and it's quick and painful instead. The meds were becoming more and more difficult to c- to come by, and she'd spent weeks without a dosage. We hatched a rudimentary escape plan with low level success. We didn't think we'd make it to the outside of the camp, but at least we'd died trying.

Jacobs: However, as it turns out, we were wrong. *picks up the glass* A rival leader decided to put an end to the Viscount's business, and attacked his hideout. (sip) We manadged to escape in the chaos and begin our journey north. Dense jungle all around, we trudged onwards, trying to imagine what it would be like once we finally crossed the border checkpoint. I'd try to use my connections to ensure Marta get in, she did save the US Secret Service agent after all. Most people'd get medals, especially civvies like her... <quieter> She deserved a hero's welcome. (big gulp)

Jacobs: Two days in, I woke up to her screaming in the middle of the night. I thought we were being attacked... but when I saw her, I knew she was dead. Her leg had swollen around the thigh... and was burning red. She gripped her calf with both hands and... rocked back and forth. The clot had already begun his work. (dry swallow) Marta needed access to blood thinners as soon as possible, but the nearest "safe" settlement was at least another four days walk from here.

Jacobs: She urged me to leave her behind. *pours more into glass* (gulp) At first, I made do trying to keep her supported on my shoulder. But as the hours continued, the pain only got worse. Even bending her foots sent spikes of pain through her body. I carried her through the jungle as best I could, taking my time over rough terrain. (sigh) I couldn't afford to drop out.

Jacobs: <speech gets slower and more slured> I ignored my own exhaustion, trudging onwards. At first I tried to assuage Marta's cries and moans, but... I ran out of words encouragement, saving my energy for reaching safety. Maybe if I blocked out the agony and hopelessness, I would break through the next tree line, mount that next ridge and I'd see civilization just a little further beyond. ... But then I caught sight of her leg, now a dark, venomous purple.

Jacobs: ...

Jacobs: <speech gets even slower and more slured with each sentence, starts to stutter on and make pauses between words> Marta gone quiet, and I hadn't even noticed. I collapsed with her in my arms and pleaded with her to not give up. Maybe it wasn't with her. Maybe it was with the illness, or whatever force was stealing her from this world. She couldn't speak..., choking on her own gasps.... It was the most pitiful sight I'd ever seen. ... Of all the people that could have happened to,... why couldn't it be the enemy? (big gulp) <voice shaky> Why did it have to be a friend?

Jacobs: I gave her a hug... (mirthless huff) it was all I knew to do. I felt her breathing slow,... her heart fade,... and then ... nothing.

Jacobs: ... (deep breath) ……. (big gulp)

Jacobs: It only took me three more hours to reach the nearest town. (barely audible sniff) I felt a pang of self-loathing with every step I took from then on towards the U.S. I bunked with thieves, the homeless refugees and finally arrived at the border. Half my fractures had healed, and I and a half dozen infections across my body.

Jacobs: I also found out that the moment I broke through those trees, over a week before having just left Marta's body behind in the underbrush. Had been Christmas Eve. ... *takes few quick breaths during pause* (sniff) *roughly swallows then takes quick gulp*

Jacobs: (sniff) That's when I was approached by the Foundation. Mentally, I was back at square one: (rough swallow) exactly the same place post-college me. Of course I was going to drop everything to be a part of whatever this "excellent yet dangerous opportunity" would be... But I had to do one thing.

Jacobs: I told Martha's brother about his sister's last days. Everything we'd been through, everything she... suffered. We talked the whole afternoon about how he fell deep inside. We cried, we laughed,... we sat in silence more than once. But it never felt awkward. He reminded me so much of her. It's the last time I've ever... <astonished> talked. Just talked, with someone like a proper human being. *puts the glass down*

Jacobs: <speech gets even slower and more slured with pause between each word> The rest as they say is history. I supposed, for Marta's brother at least, I was able to bring him the gift of closure. <louder> A little late, but... <back to normal volume> better than ever.

Jacobs: <gets quieter> ...I don't just find it difficult to trust people because they have betrayed me,... but because those I do trust often get hurt...

Jacobs: And here I am... having to force myself to trust... someone else.

Jacobs: *pours more* Marta... here's to you. Happy holidays. (long gulp)

Jacobs: …

[END LOG]

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[venomous--fics]

@geekgirlofarchangels Requested: Hi! (I just wanted to say that I love your writing, it's amazing)😍

Can I request Eddie Brock x reader, who bake sweets for him, basically try to show her love for him in many ways in a day to day basis, and when she decides to tell him that she loves him, she sees him with Anne and misunderstand everything.

She panics, but ends fluff? Sorry for any mistakes English is not my first language

A/N: No worries!! Thank you for the request and I hope you enjoy!! Day 6! So many more to go!

"I think I need better piping tips." You said, looking over to Eddie for some reassurance.

The man had a one track mind, and right now, the only thing he could think of was the cookies you had in the oven. He's been staring at it for the last five minutes.

"A watched pot never boils." You said, finally catching his attention.

"And watched cookies never bake." he retorted turning around to look at the cake you'd be decorating, "I think it looks nice."

"Really?"

"Of course!"

"You're not just being cute and nice, right?"

"What would I gain from lying? Name one thing."

"More sweets?"

"That is true, but I don't have to lie to get those."

You rolled your eyes with a smile as you moved the cake to the other counter so that way you had room for the cookies. Before you, Eddie wasn't really the type of guy to have a sweet tooth, but oh boy you sure did change that. You worked at a bakery, and you were still practicing your skills any chance you got.

Eddie was a good and somewhat unbiased judge. He never lied to you, but he was never mean about anything either. If something needed worked on, he'd tell you nicely.

"Why are you stressing so much about your decorating skills anyways? I think you're amazing at it."

"My boss really wants me to start helping out in the decorating area..I was just worried that I was totally going to suck." You set your piping bag off to the side and wiped off your hands, "I just want to make sure I can do everything perfectly."

"You got this. It'll be a breeze for you. I mean, c'mon, look at it. It's really good."

You took a moment to really admire your cake. Yeah, it was pretty good.

Eddie really was so nice and loving to you. He was nothing like any of the other people you'd chosen to spend your time with before. Eddie actually wanted to do things with you, and he was constantly dragging you along for new adventures, and actually paid attention to your wants and needs.

You really liked him. Well, if you were being honest, you were really hopelessly in love with him. And you wanted to tell him, and you were sure he felt the same, but you really wanted to make it special.

Should you write it in icing on a cookie? Or maybe he was a bit tired of cookies. Maybe he'd expect you to do that since you're a baker and all. Maybe you should just tell him. Face to face.

You both left for work, saying your goodbyes and sharing a kiss or two. You were going to tell him after work. It'd finally be a weight off your chest to finally say just how you felt.

Despite having a seemingly normal day, you began to feel a little puzzled towards lunch. Normally, somehow, someway, Eddie always found his way to your work. It was bizarre how your lunch breaks always lined up, but you were sure he did that on purpose.

He didn't show up today, so you spent your break alone. You'd texted him to have a good rest of the day at work, but he never texted back. Maybe he just got busy, you told yourself.

You managed to clock out and make your way home, and still no response from Eddie. He wasn't even home yet. It was 6:45. Normally, he's home way before you. You shrugged it off as a late day at the office as you changed out of your work clothes.

Eddie got home at about 7:15 pm, and didn't say much as to why that was. He was his normal cheery self. He doted on you as usual, and you two ate together. Every thing was fine, but it didn't feel fine.

Things continued on like that for a few days. You had this persistent nagging feeling that Eddie was hiding something, and it was getting in the way of talking to him. It was getting far too annoying to ignore.

Today, one of your rare days off, you decided to hell with it. You were going to make Eddie a nice dinner and just tell him. Maybe then the nagging feeling would go away. Maybe you were just nervous because this was a huge thing to say, especially to Eddie.

You were making your way downtown, to the store, to pick up a few ingredients for dinner. Your list was short, so this really shouldn't take too long. You walked passed a café that you and Eddie frequented, and your body froze just a few steps passed the big front window. The hell was that?

You must've been seeing things. Surely you hadn't seen what you thought you saw, right? Not wanting to be seen, just in case your eyes weren't tricking you, you turned your body a little. You couldn't believe it. There was was. Even if all you saw was the back of his head, you knew it was him solely because of who was sitting across from him at the little table.

"Anne?" you asked yourself quietly.

She looked like she was in good spirits today. Her smile was warm and inviting as always, and it looked like she was chuckling at something Eddie had just said. You couldn't look away.

Why would he do this to you? Are you really surprised? After all, he did love her first. Maybe he never really loved you to begin with.

You made your way back to the apartment to gather your thoughts. There was to be a rational explanation for this. They weren't doing anything bad, but, you did find yourself worrying because...Well, you know, it was Anne.

For the first time in years, you felt angry. How could he do that to you? You should just leave and just call him later and tell him that you're never coming back. You froze halfway to the door once you realized what had really happened. Eddie chose her. And you knew that time after time he'd do it again.

You felt stupid. You felt a few tears slip out and you tried to fight them off, but that only seemed to make it worse. The door opened, and the sound of keys hitting the counter caught your attention.

"Oh!" Eddie said, "You're home! Good, I have- Hey, are you okay?"

You just stared at him.

He walked over, attempting to comfort you, but you took a few steps back, causing him to freeze. He looked wounded.

"Did something happen?" he asked, lowering his hands.

"I don't know," You said bitterly, "Why don't you go ask Anne?"

"Anne?" Then it registered, "Oh! Oh, no, babe, that's-"

"I don't want to hear any excuses, Eddie! How could you do that to me? How could you string me along and then just backstab me like that."

"No!" He really wanted to hold you, but he knew he had to refrain, "No, no, no! It wasn't like that. I swear!"

"I can't even look at you." You rushed into the bedroom, slamming the door. "God! I'm so, so stupid!"

Eddie listened to your slightly muffled yelling for a minute or two before moving over to the door to open it.

"I shouldn't even be here anymore!" You shouted, throwing open the door, "I have to go."

You tried to move past Eddie, but as a reflex, he grabbed your arm, "Please don't do that."

You tugged and pulled, but you couldn't wiggle free. He wasn't holding too tight, and he wasn't hurting you. You just couldn't get free, "Let go of me!"

"I swear I'd never do that to you!" He pleaded, "Will you just let me explain?"

You stopped fighting and just stared helplessly ahead, "What is there to explain, huh? You don't love me like I love you, so there's nothing left to talk about."

"You love me?"

"Of course I do! But it's obvious that you don't love me! So, just, let go!"

"I love you too!" He said loudly.

It's like the whole world stopped in that moment as your head whipped around to look at him. He looked like his whole world was about to end. This wasn't how any of this was supposed to go down.

"I love you." he repeated, "I- I'm so sorry I didn't say it sooner. I..I got nervous so I, as stupid as it sounds, I went to Anne for advice."

Your whole body relaxed as you listened to him.

"I wasn't sure how to say it- Or, I guess, say it right." Eddie sighed a little, "I asked her what I should do. She was always better at this stuff. She gave me this bright idea of a movie and dinner...But it seems like that's all out the window now."

You realized your mistake, "Eddie, I'm sorry...I didn't want it to happen like this either. I had a plan too, and I guess I ruined it."

"I should've just told you. I was just scared you wouldn't feel the same."

"Wouldn't feel the same?" You wanted to sound offended at the thought, "Eddie, why do you think I do all these nice things for you? I wanted to tell you for ages, but I just couldn't."

Eddie let go of your arm, and pulled you into a hug. He hugged you like his life depended on it. You hugged back before sighing, "This really isn't how I wanted this to go."

"I know." he said, "Doesn't make it any less true, does it?"

You shook your head.

"I mean it. I really do love you. I just wanted to make sure I did everything right this time." He sounded disappointed with himself, "I guess I'm always going to screw some things up."

"That's okay." You reassured, "I don't know if you noticed, but I ruined this whole thing. Your plan, my plan. All of it."

"I wouldn't say ruined." Eddie pulled back to look at you, "I'd just say this was a little out of the ordinary."

"Do you still want to go out for dinner? Is that still in the cards?" You asked curiously.

"Of course. Why don't we just take a breather for a little bit."

[redphlox]

Dabi's fear of feelings and connections

Dabi is a walking contradiction; he says he doesn't care about anyone, but his flames, which are linked to his emotions, demonstrate otherwise when Twice is killed. Dabi brushes off the news that Natsuo could have died because of him but still refers to him affectionately as Natsu-kun. Touya went around calling Endeavor out for neglecting his children but still trained to regain his approval and attention anyway. He lashed out at baby Shouto, admitted Shouto had done nothing wrong, and then attacked him again years later. He cries blood while thinking about his family but doesn't go home to them or change his actions which hurt them even more. Dabi wants to destroy hero society for a better future but it's obvious he doesn't plan to live long enough to see that future.

The gaps between his actions and his words are a result of dissociation and repression. It's not that Dabi is emotionless. Actually, he feels too much and he's afraid of his feelings because they've done nothing but hurt him emotionally and physically. He literally almost burned to death the one time he had a burst of emotion on Sekoto Peak and in order to prevent a repeat of that, he operates under the flawed notion that safety lies in repressing his feelings and pushing people away. He lies to himself and others and therefore cannot reconcile with his true self and can’t trust others.

In this meta I'll discuss how Dabi deals with his unprocessed feelings of betrayal and neglect by denying himself connections with both his inner wounded child and those around him. I'll also address a few misconceptions surrounding Dabi because dismantling them is key to understanding him. Contrary to popular belief, he does not want to kill his father, he never wanted to be a hero for his own sake, and he doesn't hate Shouto or his family. At its core, Touya's hurt stems from discovering that his relationship with his father wasn't based on unconditional love. This realization destroyed his sense of self so much it caused him to start fearing his own feelings and being close to others because of the link between his emotions and his self-destructive quirk.

To understand Dabi we have to understand Touya. In 291 we see through Endeavor's flashback that Touya was eager to train under him and carry his legacy. It's implied by the fact they’re working on ultimate moves that not only is Touya a willing, eager participant but that the two have been training together for quite some time. In 301 we learn that after Touya's quirk started hurting him Endeavor not only abandoned the training regime but also abandoned Touya both emotionally and physically. Instead of using the time he spent training Touya to help Touya find a new hobby or purpose in life, or just hanging out with his kid, Endeavor chooses to remove himself from Touya’s life. When Touya confronts him about the change of routine, Endeavor is seen putting on his jacket and leaving the home, his body turned away from his son.

Maybe Endeavor had errands to run, but my point is that he was in Touya’s life one minute and then gone the next. Touya says so himself: why did Endeavor change his mind all of a sudden? The abrupt change in attitude was jarring for a 4-5 year old to handle. To Touya, training = love, so he felt compelled to keep training and demonstrate his worthiness despite the fact that his quirk was hurting him. To Touya, the pain was worth it if it meant hanging out with his dad again.

But why? Well, Touya was Endeavor's #1 fan, genuinely so. His admiration and fondness for his father was genuine, and he didn't question the triumphant look on Endeavor's face when Touya said he wanted to learn the ultimate move. Before his quirk started burning him, Touya had no idea he was born for his father's ulterior motives. He had no reason to question his father's attention. Touya lived under the impression his bond with his dad was genuine and special, and he probably felt lucky that his father was willing to share something so important to him (heroism). Even after the training stops and Endeavor stops paying attention to Touya, Touya still wears his merch and vies for his attention. Most kids see their parents as larger than life and Touya was no exception. Keigo Takami admired Endeavor the hero, and Touya Todoroki admired his father who just so happened to be the hero Endeavor. Since being a hero was such a big deal for Endeavor, it was a big deal for Touya.

But that's where Touya's story becomes tragic. His father is a flawed, flawed man with many insecurities and fallacies that he pushes onto his family. I’ll get to those in a moment, but as intelligent and observant Touya is to catch on that Endeavor never set out to marry to become a father, he is too young to separate himself from his father’s expectations. Touya realizes he was born for a purpose and Touya will be damned if he doesn't fulfill that purpose even if he knows it's wrong. His father's ‘love’ meant that much to him. For Touya, it's not about becoming a hero for the glory. It was about his relationship with his father because, as I mentioned earlier, Touya was his #1 fan in the sense that he loved Enji just for being his dad. There were no conditions tied to that. “You are my dad, and I love you.”

But that wasn’t a sentiment that Touya felt in return, and that hurt Touya. He internalized he wasn't good enough, that something about him was inherently wrong. But more than that, his world came tumbling down - he felt betrayed and lied to: his father didn't love him like Touya needed him to, and this truth destroyed him. Their relationship was a lie, a farce, and it hurt so much Touya became obsessed with not hurting anymore because he couldn’t get away from it.

Touya’s motivation to become a hero didn't rise from being inspired by All Might like Shouto. Touya’s thought process wasn’t "I want to be a hero to help others or be like All Might" like Deku. No, Touya only wanted to be a hero because he wanted his father to be proud of him for surpassing All Might. Notice that Touya's obsession with beating All Might slowly diminishes from “I can surpass All Might” to “I can surpass All Might like Shouto, too” to just “look at me, Endeavor.” It was never about being a hero per say, but about his relationship with his father. Touya realized that Endeavor isn't his father first, but a hero, and he understands that he has to be a hero too to fit into his father's world. Even upon realizing that his father was using him, Touya still wanted to be part of his life, still wanted that bond. Touya, in his desperation to be loved and accepted again, could look past his father's selfishness as long as he regained that approval. Touya could pretend the relationship was real as long as he stopped feeling so unlovable.

This is unhealthy thinking, of course. Even if Touya somehow managed to regain Endeavor's approval, the relationship would still be one-sided and dissatisfying because he wouldn't be able to ignore the truth. But, this is how he rationalized his insistence to keep training in his 4-5 year old mind and this line of thought stuck with him as he grew up just as those feelings of inadequacy never left him.

This is precisely why Natsuo's drowsy "can't you go talk to our sister?" hurt so much. Touya was already emotionally fragile, and hearing that felt like being rejected all over again when it was actually Natsuo just trying to sleep. Touya was hypersensitive to any words or actions that could be interpreted as dismissive. His trauma wouldn't listen to logic that Natsuo was 8 and too young to understand, that he was tired - no, Touya's brain said, you're being rejected again! This is also why he also stormed away crying from Fuyumi after she expressed her concern for him.

In Touya’s mind, why couldn't anyone just agree with him that he was good enough? He heard "your dad's right and you're not good enough so why try" not "I care about you, your father is wrong, and I don't want you to keep getting hurt" whenever Rei tried to get him to stop training because that's the message he got from his father, too. Nevermind that it infuriated Touya that his mother could stand there and preach to him when, from his perspective, she couldn’t take her own advice. All Endeavor ever did was teach him to turn up the heat, so why should it matter that doing just so hurts him? Touya didn't understand NOT training his quirk because he had been taught that raising his firepower was ideal in all situations. Those two statements didn't make sense to a 4-5 year old, a 13 year old, and it still doesn’t make sense as a 24 year old.

To take Endeavor's lack of self awareness a step further, because it's important to understand Endeavor to fully understand Dabi, Endeavor has yet to realize his own inherent worth. He doesn't have to prove anything to his family, especially his kids. They love him unconditionally, without special reason aside from the fact that he's theirs and he's himself. However, Endeavor is so obsessed with proving himself that he doesn't realize he never had to, and he projects this onto his children. They must prove themselves by winning the genetic lottery, by being useful to his plans, by surpassing All Might.

The irony that to be a great father he doesn't have to be a hero at all is ugly because Endeavor has no identity outside of being a hero. Endeavor has said before he wants to be a good hero and father to make Shouto proud, but he fails to realize he already had this in Touya all those years ago and it still left him unsatisfied. The issue isn’t his role as a hero, it’s his inner self. In 301 Endeavor literally reaches out to Touya to talk him out of training and hurting himself, and Touya allows his father to touch his shoulders because he wants a bond with his father - any bond. Shouto, on the other hand, wouldn't allow Endeavor to touch him in 167 and slaps his hand away because he doesn’t want Endeavor’s approval. Endeavor doesn't realize Natsuo carries deep abandonment and neglect issues because he wanted to be accepted by his father too (light novel #5) but was ignored. Endeavor doesn't realize he was always good enough by default and that by projecting onto his kids and trying to be the top hero he’s doing the opposite of what he wants. He just keeps pushing away his family.

It’s important to point out Endeavor’s illogical thinking because Touya learned some of these same ideas. Touya repeatedly tries to prove himself without realizing that he was always good enough by default. The problem wasn’t his quirk or his body, but his father’s flawed thinking and self-worth issues. Now as an adult, Dabi is selfish because he's Endeavor's son and emobidies his most negative characteristics. Dabi thinks of his flames as Endeavor's, and he thinks of himself as an extension of Endeavor because that's how Endeavor set him up for life. Touya has no identity to fall back on after his father casts him aside. He was supposed to be Endeavor 2.0, but now that title is Shouto’s. Dabi doesn’t hate Shouto as a person, but he has tricked himself into believing Shouto is their father’s puppet. Shouto is a doll being used by their father with no self agency, and Dabi is going to break all of Endeavor’s toys. It’s nothing personal against Shouto, it’s just Shouto’s bad luck that he happens to be Endeavor’s masterpiece. This is why Dabi doesn’t hurt Shouto when they first meet at the training camp, and why Dabi stops attacking Shouto after Endeavor passes out - it’s not about Shouto. It’s about Endeavor, and breaking Endeavor. Touya is still there trying to be part of his father’s world, only this time not as a hero but as a villain who will end his own suffering. He doesn't want Endeavor to die, he just wants him to suffer, to ruin his dreams. Dabi thinks of it as justice.

But because Touya is still there, there is still that goodness in him, too. His connection to Fuyumi and Natsuo is still there, repressed and compartmentalized. It’s why he calls them affectionately as Fuyumi-chan and Natsu-kun. Touya’s pain is so great he has decided he’d rather end it than to carry on and look elsewhere. He's stuck, rightfully so. He recognizes his mother is a flawed person and ultimately doesn’t blame her for being a victim - she could have done more for her son, but he still sees her and his other siblings, even Shouto, as people who fell victim to Endeavor’s abuse who don't challenge their situation. Dabi sees himself as someone who does stand up to the abuse but doesn’t realize he still wants his father’s attention. He's always wanted it. That's why he went around at 13 condemning his father's treatment of his children but still trained to prove himself. This is part of the reason he became a villain.

Not to mention that Dabi literally can't cry. He has no way to release those emotions, so instead of trying to let them out, he pushes them down. But that doesn't work and is detrimental in the long run. In 290-294 we saw Dabi's flames burn so hot during his confrontation with Endeavor and revealing himself as Touya that his burns have spread. Dabi is afraid of his feelings because of their connection to his flames, but he also uses his feelings to his advantage. He wants to go out in an inferno along with Shouto just to hurt Endeavor and put an end to his own suffering and Endeavor's career. This is why Dabi doesn't bother calming himself down or denying that he never forgot how he was treated when he lived at home. Dabi became emotional in that battlefield, smiling maniacally instead of crying because he physically can't cry. In his mind, if his feelings are going to destroy him, he might as well use them to prove a point. After all, he has experience being used. It's why he was born.

I'm not saying any of these actions or thoughts are healthy or correct or condoned, by the way. Trauma responses don't make logical sense and usually aren't healthy. Knowing how the mind responds to trauma, it's understandable that Touya still wanted his father's attention even if it was abusive. In fact, this is how children often respond to abuse. Their caretaker/parent is all they know and they cling to these figures. Often times when authorities try to remove a child from their abusive parents, the child doesn't want to go because this parent is all they know and they do feel like they love their parent/caretaker. I’m not saying the authorities got involved in this case, because obviously they didn’t, but this same mentality of abused children can be applied to Touya. Touya, in his four year old mind, probably convinced himself that if he was good enough everything would go back to how it used to be.

So, to sum up Dabi’s character, of course he doesn't make any sense. He’s still that hurt 4-5 year old who is trying to protect himself from ever getting hurt like that again while still wanting his father’s validation. Of course he doesn’t want to get close to anyone, not even the League. He doesn't want to be vulnerable or let people in or form connections because the last time that happened he was let down, forsaken, and it hurt so much it literally made him lose control of his quirk to the point he almost died. When Twice is killed, Dabi consoles himself by saying he didn't care anyway, all to prevent another emotional fire. Dabi is a master of compartmentalizing and boxing away his feelings - this is probably why, 310 chapters into BNHA, we have yet to have a few chapters in his POV or his backstory. He's disconnected from himself. He knows his plot to get justice will hurt his siblings and mother and to live with himself and move forward he represses those feelings.

Because of his father not showing up on Sekoto peak, Dabi has to live with physical disabilities due to his scars and memories of burning alive. He doesn't want to go through that again so he lies to himself that he doesn't care about anyone or anything. He denies that he's still in pain while simultaneously seeking validation of his pain. He acts like he doesn't care about his family but still calls them affectionate names. He acts like he hates Endeavor and calls him by his name but still wants his attention. He decided long ago that he would die destroying Endeavor's career because that was the thing Endeavor cares about most of all in this life. It's a "you hurt me so I'll hurt you" mentality. He has tricked himself into thinking this is justice, failing to realize this won't make him feel better if he doesn't die by his own hand along the way.

Dabi is full of resentment and spite, both of which take root from feelings of abandonment, betrayal, and the loss of a purpose and the realization that he wasn't born to be loved for who he was but as a tool for his father. The first betrayal he suffered was in the form of realizing his father didn't love him genuinely, and this was identity-breaking for him. He never recovered from it. The second betrayal, the reinforcer, was his father not showing up to Sekoto Peak. Since then, Dabi is reliving his trauma over and over again the more he uses his quirk and the more he faces Endeavor. To be saved, Dabi needs to accept that he is loved unconditionally and needs to be validated that he was right to feel thrown aside and used.

[ofhouseadama]

"I know you're in love with me" for Garashir, with something from Before You Go by Lewis Capaldi

Was never the right time whenever you called Went little by little by little until there was nothing at all Our every moment, I start to replay But all I can think about is seeing that look on your face

It's been close to a year now since he heard from Dr. Bashir, and a little over six months since he sent him... whatever one would like to call his last message to the good doctor. The word "letter" doesn't carry enough heft for the length of the missive, or its contents. His memoirs, Garak supposes, flung out into space in the hopes of reaching the one person left in the universe who might understand him. Who might still be capable of forgiving him.

But it's hard not to read Bashir's silence as damnation. To not assume that he stretched, overreached, and overextended the doctor's capacity for mercy. Perhaps his silence is the kindest Dr. Bashir is capable of being towards him. Perhaps, Garak thinks on the nights where the darkness and the hunger and the wretched pain of the creation of a new Cardassia does not manage to consume him--perhaps the doctor is struggling himself with the aftermath of the war, tucked safely away on Deep Space Nine, and hurting.

Other nights he imagines Bashir and Dax in bed together, laughing at the contents of his letter. The Doctor and the Counselor, mocking him in his hopelessness. He has never been capable of getting better before. Why start now? Why not just give up, allow the disease and malnutrition take him?

On other nights still, he wonders if his mangled attempt at a goodbye has precluded him from access to Dr. Bashir's life. He remembers the look on the dear Doctor's face as he worked through the scope of the casualties of the Dominion bombardment. He turns the moment over in his mind, searching, searching--was he too cruel? Too brusque? Should he have tried to soften himself, tried to cry, scrounge up a performance of vulnerability? Garak is not practiced at keeping people in his life. Dr. Bashir had said that they would meet again in this life, and he had almost laughed in his face. He would have, if the words had been spoken by anyone but the Doctor. From the Doctor, he almost believed them.

It's Kira who checks up on him the most, a fact that would be infuriating if she didn't write to him with a earnest, albeit clumsy and bare, sort of kindness. What camaraderie exists between them is earned, and he reminds himself of that. Kira writes to him about Quark and Morn and the other inhabitants of the Promenade, about Ezri Dax and Kassidy and Jake Sisko, about his former customers. But she writes nothing about Dr. Bashir. And Garak doesn't dare ask.

He's old enough to know better than to ask questions he doesn't want to know the answer to.

The answer comes anyway.

Eventually.

Early one morning, before the sun even rises, there's a new message waiting for him in his inbox from his dear Doctor. A new message, a letter, a--he still doesn't know the word to describe what they've exchanged, he thinks, downloading the message's contents. His pulse races, opening up the attached file.

We have not grown apart, dear friend. It begins. We are still two literature lovers. We are still two unfinished men, challenging each other to consider the universe in new ways. We are still under the same stars.

Garak reads the next two hundred and thirty-seven pages voraciously, sipping red leaf tea and eating stale ration bars as he consumes the contents of Dr. Bashir's life. His scant memories of life before Adigeon Prime, the false idyll of his childhood, the moment the fabric of his life frayed and came undone when he found the paperwork in the attic of the London townhome and chased out all the secrets into light. The manic days at the Academy, the people he never let too close, the homes he never had. Meeting and leaving people behind. Leaving places behind. Leaving the truth behind. Leaving no trace of the true Julian Bashir.

His arrival on Deep Space Nine.

His departure from Deep Space Nine. (What? When? Garak thinks, stopping himself from flipping ahead. Stories are made to be consumed a certain way, and he knows that his dear Doctor has crafted the tale of his life with a surgical precision, with unrelenting care.)

Their first meeting.

Their last meeting.

And then the war in between. Garak stands when he reads of Dr. Bashir's encounters with Section 31. Of his final encounter with Section 31. The end of the war. Their last meeting, their parting, again. And then:

I wish I had been forthright. But I was exhausted, battered, and diminished. I should have told you that you were strong. That you would survive this. That Cardassia would survive, because you would hold it together stitch by stitch, seaming the fabric of Cardassian society and culture and art and literature and music back together by yourself if you had to. That you were Cardassia's most gifted mind.

I should have told you so many things, but I couldn't even say them to myself. I didn't recognize them in myself. I've always hid the most important truths from myself, in order to most effectively conceal my deepest, darkest secrets.

I'm in love with you, Garak.

Garak has to sit on his bed, his fingers going numb around his PADD.

And... after reading what you wrote to me, I know you're in love with me too. But I'm old enough to know that love isn't enough. It never has been, for men like us. It can't be.

I came to Cardassia six months ago with the Federation convoy.

Garak has to check his own pulse. Is he hallucinating? Is he hypotensive? Hypertensive? Forcing his breaths to remain even, he counts his heartbeats as they thrum against the pads of his fingers.

I know that I could not say that I love you and not also love Cardassia--it wouldn't be fair to you. I have always known that once you returned from Cardassia, you could never be parted from her again. So I took a leave of absence from Starfleet to volunteer with the Federation Disaster Relief Corps, an option extended to all Starfleet medical personnel after the end of the Dominion War. It was Ezri's idea, honestly. We... didn't last very long after the end of the war. Not even a month. She's gone on to command training now, chasing her new dream, allowing herself to fully integrate with the Dax symbiont.

And I'm running a pediatric clinic in the Cardassian capitol. Every morning I half expect to find you having broken into my apartment, smirking as you ask how I expected to be on your Cardassia without you knowing. But I imagine that you're quite busy running the interim government, or so I hear on the radio and from my patients. Well, my patients' grown ups.

The address to my temporary housing is attached to this email. Today is my first day off in eighteen days. I'm not afraid to learn something new about myself. I'm not afraid to keep listening to what you've learnt about yourself. I think, if you're interested, I'd like to keep doing that for the rest of our lives.

Yours, Julian S. Bashir

Calmly, he sets his PADD onto the cot that he calls a bed, in the shack that he calls a dwelling, on the plot of land that he calls a home. Cardassia. Dr. Bashir is on Cardassia. Dr. Bashir has been on Cardassia for six months and somehow he did not sense it the moment his boots touched Cardassian soil.

That feels suspect. Garak is suspicious. So suspicious that he dresses himself quickly, and if his fingers tremble as he fastens all the hidden clasps and buttons, he doesn't notice. He knows the clinic that Dr. Bashir has been working in, in one of the poorest neighborhoods in the poorest sector of the city, staffed by a mix of Federation optimists and unflinching Cardassian pessimists. He knows the clinic, he thinks while tying the laces of his boots. He's even read reports from the clinic. Did he not recognize his dear Doctor's words when he read them? Or has Dr. Bashir been trying to present him with a challenge, trying to make it difficult to root out his presence here among the other aid workers?

He just barely catches the skimmer heading towards that part of the city as it departs, flashing his government worker ID card as he hoists himself on board. The card isn't even fake. He hasn't needed falsified papers in close to a decade now, and it still feels strange, especially back here in the capitol. He's rarely been himself here, since he was a child.

He thinks about Bashir's words on the ride through the morning heat, the piquant smell of ozone filling the air. A dust storm is on it's way, followed by an electrical storm, and rain if they're lucky. There's not much luck to be had on Cardassia these days, and Garak blithely wonders if he's used up the planet's daily allotment already. He thinks about Bashir's words, turning them over and over again in his head like a piece of fabric before cutting it to a pattern. I've always hid the most important truths from myself, in order to most effectively conceal my deepest, darkest secrets.

Allowing the possibility of it all to settle over him, Garak thinks he understands what the Doctor is talking about.

The skimmer drops him off a block from the clinic and the small boarding house where its workers reside. As his feet carry him towards it, he realizes for the first time in his life, he's not certain what to say. He could bluster, or prevaricate, or quip. He's almost certain that the Doctor expects it, if he's expecting him at all.

A hundred yards from the boarding house, Garak sees a familiar figure with dark hair and tanned skin and long limbs sitting in a windowsill three stories up, looking out into the morning as he sips from a familiar blue mug.

And then the figure sees him, and smiles.

[donutloverxo]

NO BUT LIKE CONCEPT: SMUT HC where mob!steve comes back from a rough night that leaves him very much outta it and ur the only one who can help him ... in more ways than one

Please note that my stories are not to be stolen or reposted on any other site. Reblogs are welcome. This blog and this story is 18+. Do not read, follow or interact if you are not 18+.

I'm making this a drabble cause I can't work with HCs. Thank you❤ Warmings -explicit sexual content, dom Steve, daddy kink, spanking, blood and wounds, bullets. Dividers by @whimsicalrogers

You put some distance between your poor ear and your phone upon hearing your friends loud screech, excited since she saw your Instagram post of your new engagement ring.

"It is so beautiful! And so unconventional and unique too!"

"Mm-hm," you hummed, applying a second coat of your fiery red nail paint, to make it more intense, you just knew it'd look amazing against Steve's pale skin, he absolutely loved it when you scratched him and were a bit rough with him.

You never gave him any pointers on what kind of engagement ring you'd like, only thing that was a bit too obvious - which you never actually needed to say - was that you loved shiny things. So he has gotten you a ring with a huge sapphire ruby and tiny sparkly diamonds adorning the band. It was everything you needed and more.

"Makes sense because our relationship is anything but conventional." Where he had never directly said that his job involved a few things that were kind of, sort of, illegal but you weren't an idiot, it didn't take you long to figure out.

You knew he was important and rich when he asked you out, not just because he wore fancy clothes, but the way he carried himself, tall and proud and an aura that dominated any room he was in, two bodyguards always around him, and when you both started getting serious he assigned Peter, who was sort of an intern or newbie from what you gathered, to always escort you places and take care of you.

Maybe it wasn't exactly the most rational thing to do - marrying someone who was as feared as he was respected - but all you knew was that he was a good man and you had faith in him, so you stayed away from that part of his life.

"You must be planning the wedding now," she beamed over the phone.

You scoffed, blowing on your fingers, "No, he's always at work these days. It's so annoying, if it doesn't change then I'm leaving and taking the ring with me."

You looked at it sparkling on your finger, it was too beautiful to part with. Besides it became yours as soon as he gave it to you.

"You're late, but there's nothing new about that," you puffed out your cheeks, hands crosses under your chest, as he loosened his tie and worked on taking off his shoes. He had been coming home past midnight for the last month, enough was enough!

"Doll," he groaned, looking at you and ready to tell you off and ask for some space, but then he saw you. In a satin babydoll that barely covered you, with lace trimmings that did nothing to hide your soft nipples, your toes and nails painted just the color he liked, and you were wearing those ridiculous fluffy slippers with bunny ears that he had grown to love.

His mouth opened and then shut like a damn goldfish, forgetting what he was about to tell you.

"Steven," you furrowed your brows.

He knew he was in trouble as soon as you called out his full name. "Yeah?"

"When are we going to discuss the wedding?"

"I'm sorry, doll, work has been hectic these days. But soon."

"Soon? Soon doesn't do it for me," jutting your hip and leaning against the door to your walk in closet, "I need an exact date."

"I can't give it to you right now, puppy," his jaw clenching as you rolled your eyes, "Watch yourself, sweetheart. I had a long day, you don't wanna get on my bad side today."

"You shouldn't have put a rock on it if you didn't intend on marrying me," rolling your eyes extra hard just to get on his nerves.

"I do want to marry you. But right now... you're sort of making me have second thoughts."

He regretted those words as soon as they left his mouth. Because you looked about ready to smack him.

"Fine then. I guess I'll leave and go live with my mother from now on. She would be happy for sure, she isn't too thrilled about our engage - " you stopped your rant as soon as you noticed crimson seeping through his crisp white undershirt as he took off his coat.

Your eyes as wide as saucers, your heart beating fast and hard in your chest and you could feel your eyes getting watery. You weren't handing out empty threats, you were definitely serious about leaving. Just to remind Steve of just how much he loves you.

It wouldn't be the first time. You had done it once before, when you went back to live at your apartment because he yelled at you for going out with your girlfriends without Peter. You didn't need a babysitter, especially not one who was several years younger than you. You had gathered up your things from Steve's penthouse and went home with a heavy heart. You loved him with all your heart, but there was no way you could make it work with someone who was that controlling and mean to you.

But he came to you, literally got on his knees to apologize and to beg for you to take him back. He even made you give up your apartment and got you a bigger house for you both to live in. Just so you couldn't take off ever again.

"Steve... your bleeding..." you said as you held back a sob. Any anger you had towards him was now gone.

"Oh, shit," he looked down to his side, "Must've ruptured the stitch or something..."

You walked over to him, holding onto his waist and looking up at him, trying not to look at his wound. You weren't that squimish around blood, it rarely ever bothered you, but this was your Stevie, and he was hurt. "What happened?"

"Its... It's nothing, doll. It was an accident."

"Yeah, I guess you slipped and fell on a bullet," you huffed.

"No, the bullet barely grazed me. And you know I don't like talking about those things with you."

"Why? I'm not stupid or weak, I have a right to know."

"Of course, not, puppy. You're my sweet, strong, smart girl," he cooed, bending a bit to peck your lips and then groaning. "Gotta, be careful with this," he said as your fingers worked on unbuttoning his shirt.

"If I'm so strong and smart then tell me what happened," you asked as you pushed his shirt off his shoulders. You didn't stop to marvel at his huge and perfect body like you always do, you looked at the fresh batch on stitches right over his hips.

"No, puppy. You're too good for that world, too good for me," he groaned as he sat down on the little pink couch he had put in the closet for you. Since you spent hours trying to pick outfits, he didn't want you standing too long and hurting your feet.

"Fine then don't tell me," you whimpered, rubbing your tears off with the back of your hand.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm okay. I'm right here, not going anywhere," he tried to pull you into his lap, usually he wouldn't even have to ask for you sit on it, but right now you were pulling away and refusing for some reason, "C'mere, doll," he almost whined. Not used to being told no by you anymore than you were by him.

"No, I don't wanna hurt you," you hiccuped, as your sobs started to calm down.

"You wouldn't. You could never hurt me. C'mere I wanna cuddle you and make you feel better," he tried to pull you into him again but you just shook your head.

"I should be the one making you better. Not the other way around. But I don't know how to..." you swayed from side to side, suddenly ashamed of your brash behavior from earlier. "I'm sorry, I was being such a brat earlier."

"It's okay, puppy. I forgive you. You were right, we need to fix a date and find a venue and get you a pretty dress. I wanna see you in one of those poffy gowns, like a princess."

"That's called a ballgown," you said proudly, having done your research now. You knew all about the styles of the gowns, sleeves, necklines, colors and everything. "And you're not going to be involved in dress shopping process. Grooms aren't supposed to see the dress before the wedding it's bad luck."

He hummed at that, a bit disappointed but he would eventually see it, and then take it off, so it wasn't a huge loss. "Yes, you're right. But, let's not forget, you were a bad girl."

You gasped incredulously, "Well, you were being a bad fiance!" Which earned you a swift smack to your backside, making you yelp and fall forward, holding onto his shoulders for support.

"I didn't mind you calling me out for that. I want you to be honest with me and tell me everything. But you threatened to leave me, again."

You pouted. Offended for being called out so blatantly. Yeah you always made empty threats, packed up your bags just for show, whenever you didn't get your way. Never considering his feelings when yours were hurt.

"Sorry," you mumbled.

"I forgive you. I know you didn't mean it. But I'll have to teach you your lesson. Just so you know better next time."

You nodded your head, which made him spank you once more, "Yes, daddy!"

"Good. How many do you think you deserve?"

"Um... Fifteen. Ten for threatening to leave, and five for giving you attitude."

"See, you're so smart. I'll punish you tomorrow though. I'm tired right now," he groaned as he sat back against the couch, squeezing your hips and admiring your figure, showing through the thin material of your nightie.

"Um, daddy?"

"Yes, angel?"

"Is there anyway I can make you feel better right now?"

"Yeah, you can give me a kiss. You didn't give me one this morning when I left, or when I came back."

"Okay, I'll kiss you. But I also wanted to do more..." you murmured, your face burned hot as you realised that Steve was going to make you say what you wanted to do.

"Like what?"

"Like, take your cock down my throat. Would that make you feel better? I'll try and be careful about your stitches." Truth be told you missed being intimate with him, you needed it as much as he did.

"It definitely would make me feel better. But I want to have you close to me," he stroked the inside of your thighs, hands dangerously close to your cunt, "Why don't you, come ride my cock. Just like I taught you, hm?"

"But - what if I hurt you..." you whined. But he wasn't having any of it, rolling your panties down your legs.

"You wouldn't, puppy, come on we'll be careful. Be quick."

You gave him a meek nod, unzipping him with shaky fingers, giving his glorious cock a couple of pumps before straddling his lap. You made sure to not put any pressure on his lap. Lining his cock up to your pussy with your hands wrapped around his neck, you slowly sanked down on him.

First giving him a nice and thorough kiss to make him for not kissing him goodbye or welcome home like you always do. "I feel so full," you say against his lips.

He hummed, squeezing your ass, "I was made for you, angel. As you were for me." He slid the straps of your nightie down your arms, exposing your breasts to him. He made sure to shower them with all his lips, sucking, kissing and biting and pulling with his mouth. You were making the sweetest of noises, trying to keep your moans in as he helped you bounce on his cock by holding onto your hips.

"You're doing so good. Being such a good girl for me. My sweet, best girl," he cooed, kissing your forehead, he knew how you were still vulnerable to be on top.

"Am I making you feel better, daddy?" you sniffled, his cock hiting you in all the right places, making it impossible for you to keep going and hold off your climax.

"I'm all better already, thanks to you, puppy."

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 324: Is There a Force Field Around Him??

Previously on BnHA: Flashback!Rat Principal was all “please tell Midoriya that I spent a concerningly small amount of money upgrading U.A. into a wacky physics-defying funtime grid so as to make the final battle much more confusing for everyone.” Present Day!Mic (or Present!Mic, if you will) and Jeanist were all “if only somebody could deescalate this dangerously unhinged mob, we’ve tried nothing and we’re all out of ideas.” Ochako was all “LISTEN UP PEOPLE.” The mob was all, “god??” Ochako was all, “NO, IT’S ME, OCHAKO. I’M REALLY HIGH UP ON THIS BUILDING AND THE VISIBILITY IS LOW DUE TO THE RAIN, SO I CAN SEE HOW YOU MIGHT MAKE THAT MISTAKE. ANYWAYS, DEKU WAS OUT THERE RISKING HIS LIFE FOR YOU CLOWNS EVEN THOUGH HE’S JUST A KID, SO I WOULD REALLY APPRECIATE IF YOU COULD ALL REMEMBER HOW TO BE DECENT HUMAN BEINGS, THANKS.” Let’s see if her Big Scolding Energy has any impact.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “so I have this speech planned out, and it’s really good, but it also only really needs about 6 to 8 pages, but I’m gonna see if I can stretch it out to 17 pages so I can kill time before we get to the next volume cliffhanger two weeks from now.” Anyway but it really is a good speech though. There are feels, and tears, and more talk about how Deku is so in need of a shower that just looking at him requires a tetanus booster, and more feels, and more tears, and bonus ship drama, and an iconic callback to the very first chapter which reframes the entire series in a new context in a totally epic and moving way, and it’s all very good. Except that Horikoshi is determined to never let anyone actually give this kid a hug. Who hurt you, dude.

omg we are opening on a callback to chapter 212, a.k.a. the chapter with by far the cutest flashback that doesn’t involve any baby Todorokis

baby Ochako is lethally cute. she could literally murder someone with her cuteness. I just want to scoop her up and play airplane with her until she accidentally activates her quirk while we’re spinning around and we both helicopter up into the air never to be seen again

“a child’s insistence” huh well that’s all well and good, but I sure hope this doesn’t mean we’re going to drag out the whole “sternly lecture the obnoxious citizens” plot for another whole chapter. no offense but I think we’re good

so page 2 is just continuing the whole happy/worried faces monologue, which of course is very important to Ochako’s character as it provides the context for why “who protects the heroes” ended up becoming her thing. and this is making me think we actually are in for a whole second chapter of this sob. when will my boy finally get to rest

OH MY GOD SUDDENLY THESE PEOPLE HAVE EYES IMAGINE THAT

HORIKOSHI: [reaches for a box of tissues while tearfully penning an homage to his beloved Spider-Man 2, specifically the train scene where the crowd sees Peter without his mask and they suddenly realize just how young he is]

HORIKOSHI’S HOMAGE SCENE: “COME TO THINK OF IT, I GUESS IT WAS KIND OF MEAN FOR US TO PICK ON THIS TEN YEAR OLD KID WHO WEIGHS 75 POUNDS AND LOOKS LIKE HE LOST A FIGHT WITH SATAN’S MOLDY OLD BASEMENT”

lol at this one guy who can feel the mood of the crowd shifting and is all “WAIT, NO, I WANTED TO KEEP BEING AN ASSHOLE DAMMIT”

as many pointed out last week, this man is wearing an All Might shirt. that’s some fantastic irony there

-- SDKFJWIGKS

“LITTLE GIRL, I HOPE YOU’RE NOT SUGGESTING THAT WE SHOULD ALL BE WALKING AROUND DRESSED LIKE A SOVIET-ERA BUS STOP.” heh. last week I said I was ashamed of BnHA being my favorite manga. that was a lie, actually

(ETA: in the original Japanese Ochako’s next two lines are basically “the only ones covered in mud will be us heroes!” followed by “please give us some time to get rid of the mud”, with that second line basically being the single funniest thing I’ve ever read rdslkjl. Ochako thank you so much for supporting my running gags. “YEAH WE KNOW HE’S DIRTY. WE ARE GONNA TRY AND CLEAN HIM UP, BUT IT MAY TAKE A WHILE, I’M JUST SAYING. I MEAN LOOK AT HIM. HE LOOKS LIKE AN ASBESTOS COSPLAY.”)

doesn’t the megaphone kind of look ever so slightly like an axe that she’s wielding maniacally here

easy there Lizzie Borden

also that’s a really bold claim to make there. and not one she necessarily should have to make, either. but as we all know, there’s nothing that shounen manga likes more than having its heroes bravely hoist heavy burdens of responsibility like good self-sacrificing citizens

p.s. lowkey loving how Kacchan is positioned here standing slightly behind Deku. not presuming to stand in front of him all overprotectively (because he would hate if anyone ever did that to him), and kind of being unobtrusive and letting others take center stage -- but still being close enough to Deku that he can catch him if he stumbles or passes out again

(ETA: or maybe not lmao.

DEKU: [falls to his knees]

KACCHAN: [glancing up from his phone a few minutes later] “someone just sent me the stupidest meme about milk crates -- oh. uh. you good...?”

really, son. “the burdens you can’t carry, we’ll carry them for you. ...later, I mean. right now it’s late, and we’re all cold and wet.”)

also lowkey loving this OchaTsu moment here

I was going back and binging Ochako chapters this past week for reasons, and I gotta say it really stuck out to me just how often these two are paired with each other. they do everything together. it’s a really sweet friendship that often goes unappreciated but it’s very cute

meanwhile, not to be outdone by the OchaTsu, Iida is staring at Ochako with open admiration talking about how she’s fighting too. it’s been so long since we’ve had any IidaRaka you guys. I was starving and I didn’t even know it

oh my lord IT’S FINALLY HAPPENING

THE LIGHT IS BACK. he finally looks like him again. what a cathartic fucking moment omg

ffklkdw

“I KNOW YOU ARE ALL SCARED, BUT THE GOOD NEWS IS, WE DEFINITELY CANNOT GUARANTEE YOUR SAFETY AND WE ARE ALL SCARED TOO!” good pep talk there kiddo

BUT, jokes aside, truth be told this is the exact right approach to take imo, and something that’s long overdue. I’ve said this before, but this new generation of heroes is shaping up to be much more transparent than the All Might generation. they’re basically abandoning the almighty, untouchable Superman “heroes as gods” concept in favor of the more nuanced “heroes as people” concept instead. and that’s a good thing. seeing their heroes as humans, with human limitations and weaknesses and flaws, will hopefully not only lead to more scrutiny and accountability, but also more awareness of how hard some of them are working and how much they’re sacrificing. that’s something All Might never quite grasped back at the start of the series -- that the weak, vulnerable, injured him could be just as inspiring as the mighty, invincible him -- perhaps even more so. there’s a power in seeing otherwise ordinary people show extraordinary bravery and compassion. it inspires others to try and do the same

SSDLHK AIZAWA SIGHTING AAHHHHHH

so he was still back at the hospital this whole time?? smdh at this disrespect. that feeling when your sexy self-insert character’s powers of rationality are too strong, and so you have to nerf him so that he doesn’t ruin your Deku Angst arc twice over by (1) immediately talking some sense into Deku and making him come home Right This Instant Young Man, and (2) not allowing him to leave U.A. in the first fucking place. excuse me, you want to do WHAT now, Midoriya?? that’s it, go to your room

also living for Katsuki and Hawks’s soft expressions. Shouto’s too, although his is tinier and harder to see. and Jeanist’s 12-foot-long neck. imagine Jeanist’s head with Mic’s hair. maybe Jeanist had a mohawk back in the day and that’s why U.A.’s doors are so big now

speaking of soft faces, Enji’s is also excellent

what could this random close-up possibly imply?? hell if I know. but Horikoshi truly fears no discourse and that’s what I love about him

OMGGGG

“smh my child is so dumb.” poor Ochadad. your child is cute af count your blessings

SDOFFHSMH

I’m telling you guys. lethally, catastrophically cute

this speech is still ongoing lol. Horikoshi you’re doing so good but I think we get the point now my dude. you gotta learn how to transition out of these things

UNEXPECTED TOGA WHAT

“there we go” Horikoshi says, crossing off the last line on his list of Ochako ships. “that’s all of ‘em”

poor Ochako is just repeating the same “LET HIM REST, PLEASE, WITH EVERYONE’S COOPERATION, IF YOU DON’T MIND, WE APPRECIATE IT” talking points over and over again hoping someone will throw her a bone and acknowledge her already. SOMEONE PLEASE HELP HER

literally they’re all just staring up at her silently omg. work with me people!!

now she’s saying it for the 56th time but more dramatically all of a sudden

they got so dramatic that for a minute I thought she had suddenly leaped off the building or something

look, not to rush you or anything Horikoshi, but I’m starting to get the feeling that this is yet another one of those “the volume is ending soon so I need to either hurry things up or slow things down in order to make sure we end it on my perfect cliffhanger ending” chapters where you go to ridiculous lengths to drag things out much to the exasperation of your week-to-week readers

(ETA: ftr, volume 31 ended on chapter 306, and I’m predicting that vol. 32 will end with chapter 316 (a.k.a. “you’re next!” [explodes]). I’m guessing vol. 33 will follow suit and likely end on chapter 326, so keep your eyes peeled for a big cliffhanger in two weeks’ time. Deku’s dad?? All Might in peril?? U.A. traitor at long fucking last?? we shall see.)

is Deku straight up falling in love with Ochako right on the spot lol what is happening

I know I just said that I enjoy when Horikoshi gives zero fucks about discourse, but shipping discourse is a whole different beast lol. I hope he’s prepared

(ETA: and for the record, I have no interest in shipping discourse either, as always. and I think this scene can be interpreted as platonic, tbh, with the context being that Ochako was literally introduced as someone who was willing to help him so casually without a second thought, and now here she is saving him again.

I don’t think it really fully hit Deku until this moment how much he needed saving. like I said in another meta somewhere, selflessness is basically just selfishness on behalf of others. and Deku is selfless to a fault, but that’s okay, and it doesn’t mean he needs to change -- he just needs friends who are willing to be be selfish on his behalf in turn. and I think the full emotion of what it means to have friends like that just hit him at last. everything his friends have done for him, how much he needed it and didn’t even realize, and how grateful he is. anyways what a terrible day for rain.)

-- son of a --

is he apologizing?? or pleading?? please tell me that’s not the case, because what the actual fuck. Deku you beautiful precious radiant selfless child, this is the exact opposite of how this should be. all these motherfuckers should be on their knees apologizing to you

DEKU WHY

I DIDN’T ASK FOR THIS FREAKING BOMBARDMENT OF EMOTIONS GODDAMIT. OUT HERE ARMED WITH YOUR FREAKING TREBUCHET OF FEELS TO LAUNCH AT ME UNPROVOKED. WHAT’S WITH THAT

FREAKING CHRIST. THIS BOY IS CRYING HIS EYES OUT AND HORIKOSHI IS JUST ZOOMING IN WITH THE CAMERA, LIKE CAN WE JUST CUT HIM A BREAK ALREADY. ENOUGH OF THIS. HE’S SO YOUNG AND HE TRIES SO HARD AND I JUST NEED HIM TO FEEL SAFE, HORIKOSHI PLEASE CAN YOU JUST GIVE ME THAT ALREADY WHAT IS THE FREAKING HOLD UP!!

GIGANTIC FOX LADY!!!

GIGANTIC FOX LADY PLEASE BE MY HUGGER BY PROXY!! SERIOUSLY GIRL IF YOU JUST HOLD YOUR UMBRELLA OVER HIM OR SOMETHING AND DON’T GO THE EXTRA MILE I’M ABOUT TO LODGE AN OFFICIAL COMPLAINT. THIS IS GETTING RIDICULOUS NOW

!!!!

A KOUTA IS GOOD TOO!!! oh my god if Kouta hugs him I will seriously 100% straight up cry. go on and test me

FOR THE LOVE OF --

is this man expressly forbidden from drawing hugs in his contract or something. DO YOU DO IT JUST TO SPITE ME?? this is tyranny, sir

AND I KNOW, THIS PAGE ACTUALLY CHALLENGED THE VERY PREMISE OF THE SERIES ITSELF, AND HERE I AM COMPLAINING ABOUT HUGS, OR THE LACK THEREOF. “this is the story of how we all became the greatest heroes.” and just like that, he waves a polite middle finger at all of the Strongest Greatest Chosen One shounen protags of old, in favor of something much less conventional, much more interesting, and much more suited to Deku’s character. because if that one sentence doesn’t just sum up Deku to a T. he gladly relinquishes his Greatest Hero status in favor of acknowledging the hero in everyone. what a class act. that’s my protagonist

I love this kid so fucking much I swear. only just PLEASE. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. GIVE HIM HIS HUG

[talesofstyles]

Reconcile

happy christmas eve, you lot! i’ve got a little present for you. enjoy this 10,5k of nearly divorced harry trying to win his wife and bitter nine year old daughter back. oh and i threw in a little baby goat in the mix too since it’s set in the peak district and i just couldn’t resist 🥳

“Penny for your thoughts.”

He turned to look at her, who was giggling as she leaned closer to him. She was most definitely not a giggler sober, but he found out that a copious amount of alcohol could turn her into one. He felt slightly guilty knowing that she was going to be hungover as hell in the morning, but she was having a great time.

And so was he.

“I was just thinking about how great you are, how lucky I am to be sitting next to you right now and that you need to drink more water because otherwise, you’d be miserable tomorrow,” he says with a smile as he twisted the cap and handed her the bottle of water.

That goofy smile of hers turned into a gooey smile of affection. “That’s so sweet,” she murmured, taking a gulp of water and handed the bottle back to him so he could take some too. She then tilted her head, giving him a doe-eyed look and asked, “what else do you like about me?”

“Let’s see,” he put a finger to his chin and tapped. “Well, I love how kind and inclusive you are, how you always care about people and that you always see the good in everyone.” 

Her smile grew sappier.

“Oh,” he gave her a sly grin. “I also love that thing you do with your tongue on the underside of my cock.”

She burst out laughing. But then she leaned even closer to him and whispered huskily in his ear, “I’ll do that very thing when we get back to the hotel.”

His eyes widened and he wanted nothing more than just to drag her back to their hotel suite and take up on her offer. But he’d promised her that he’d show her around Vegas since she’d never been before, and he wanted to keep that promise.

“Wanna know what I like about you?” She turned to him, still with a gooey smile on her face.

“Do I ever,” he smirked.

“I like that you’re hands down the kindest human I’ve ever met,” she began. “You’re genuine, and grounded. Funny too. I truly hit the jackpot with you. I’m the luckiest girl on earth.”

“Oh,” she added as an afterthought. “And you’re really good with your tongue.”

He wanted to laugh, because she always made him laugh. But he was still stuck on the fact that she thought she was lucky to be with him. He felt exactly the same way about her, like this was always meant to be. 

“I wasn’t looking for this,” he admitted honestly. “I know it’s only been six weeks, but I really can’t imagine never having met you.”

“Me too,” her eyes were bright, shining with excitement. “It’s weird, right? Because I swear I’ve never felt such a deep connection with someone this quick.”

“Do you believe in soulmates?” He murmured. “That there’s a perfect person for everyone out there?”

She tilted her head. “Do you think that’s us?”

There was no hesitation in his answer. “I do think that might be us.”

“I think so too,” she said with a tender smile.

This was real.

He was overwhelmed with the understanding that she was his, and he never wanted to let her go. 

So he suggested what any sane, semi-drunk man would at that moment. “We’re in Vegas. We should get married.”

***

Harry

Pulling into the drive of what used to be our holiday cottage, but is now where my wife and children live full-time without me, feels strange to me. There’s that moment of what feels like a homecoming—that sense of belonging somewhere where I feel safe, and I know my happiness is inside.

But now, for the first time in ten years, there’s a sense of detachment that I know I’ve got to put in place. It is why I need to take a moment or two in the car before I walk inside to sort myself out and put on a shield. A shield which lets me walk inside, and be okay with the fact that I don’t live there anymore even just for the holidays. 

This charming little cottage, which can’t exactly be called little since it is quite spacious and has three bedrooms, has always been more of a second home rather than a holiday home for us. We used to come here often, sometimes even only for the weekends. I’ve always loved this place. Now, looking back, I realised that many of the happiest times during our marriage were spent in this home. 

It was where we spent the first few weeks soaking in newlywed bliss after that whirlwind of a trip to Las Vegas when we decided out of nowhere to tie the knot. Then there were the sleepless nights with a wailing newborn, because even though both of our babies were born in London, we always whisked them off here to Bakewell shortly after so we were close enough that both sets of their grandparents could dote on them during the first few weeks of their lives.

After I exit the car, I walk up to the front door and ring the doorbell. I don’t feel comfortable walking in as I respect that this is YN’s sanctuary now. The wait isn’t long, because in just a few seconds, the door is opened and there’s my wife, looking like a breath of fresh air.

It had been eight long months since the last time I saw her. Last time was the night when she asked me to leave our marital home, and I fled to LA first thing the next morning. I talked daily with the kids on the phone, but I didn’t really recall ever getting the chance to talk to her aside from the quick polite greetings before she handed her phone to the kids.

“Hey,” she says, her expression a bit guarded. I’ve missed her so much that it takes everything in me to keep myself from pulling her into my arms and kiss the fuck out of her. “Come in.”

“You alright?” I ask her as I follow her into the house. This may sound like I’m just making a small talk, but I’m not. I’m genuinely curious and I want to know how she’s doing. 

But she doesn’t even respond to my question. All I get is a head-tilt motioning towards the kitchen. “They’re in the kitchen.”

My gaze immediately lands on the accent table that holds a lot of photos and a key bowl. I silently let out a sigh of relief seeing YN hasn’t removed all of the family photos with me in it. It’s a good sign, but I don’t have much hope behind that. Maybe that’s just her trying to keep everything as normal as possible at home for the kids. 

My wife and I never had a big fight when we separated. It had been somewhat rational, but still emotional, discussion. She wasn’t angry, she was just done. And I didn’t fight for her. Instead, yours truly here walked away the next morning and didn’t look back.

I’ve done a lot of dumb things in my life. But nothing ever compares to that. That was pretty fucking stupid on my part, and I know I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.

I’ve accepted that maybe this is my punishment for being a shit husband to a wonderful woman who doesn’t deserve to be treated like a second best. She did the right thing by kicking me to the curb, and I’d never resent her for it. If I could turn back time and change everything, I would in a heartbeat. I’d try harder to be a better husband, a better father, put my family first. But I can’t. Now all I can do is just try not to be a dickhead and make things harder for her than it already is. It’s too late for me to try to be a better husband, but it isn’t for me to try to be the best father that my children deserve. 

I follow my wife through the living room and into the kitchen, and I’d be dead not to check out her arse in those leggings. It’s something I quickly avert my eyes from, though, as I realise both of my children are sitting at the kitchen island, eating scones with their tea. 

George, my six-year-old, is the first to turn his head and hop off from the island stool to jump into my arms. “Daddeeeeee!”

“My Booger Butt,” I greet my little lad with a smile as I squat down to be on his level before scooping him up into my arms. Booger Butt is one of the countless nicknames I have for him, and one that never fails to make him double over in laughter whenever he hears it. He’s also Mr Tadpole Climbing a Beanpole sometimes, and he used to be Sir Screams-a-Lot when he was a baby. He thinks they’re hilarious, and he’d always respond by calling me Baddy Daddy. 

“I‘ve missed you so much, Baddy Daddy,” he says sweetly as he nuzzles his head into the crook of my neck and I swear if I don’t pull myself together right this second, I’m going to cry. 

“I’ve missed you more, mate,” I say as I ruffle his hair and kiss his cheek. “I love you.” 

My daughter doesn’t seem fazed by the father and son reunion behind her and continues munching on her scone without even giving me a glance. With my left arm full of my son, I walk up to her and ruffle her hair just like I did with her little brother. “Hey Silly Putty Pudding Pie,” I greet her with one of her nicknames, hoping to get her to laugh. But she ignores me, taking a sip of her brew instead. 

I don’t want to give up, so I lean to the side and bend to put my face close to hers. I try again, “hello to you too, poppet.”

“Whatever,” she mumbles around a mouthful of scone. 

“Minnie,” YN growls, her tone filled with warning.

This is why I respect YN so much. I hurt her badly, broke her heart, and it would’ve been so easy for her to use Minnie as a pawn and turn my child against me. But every time, even on the phone, whenever she is present, she never let Minnie be disrespectful to me in any way.

My gaze moves to my wife—yes I’m still going to refer to her as my wife since she still is, albeit only on paper—and she gives me an apologetic look. I give a slight shake of my head, telling her silently to let it go. 

She takes the last bite of her scone and puts the dish in the sink, before walking to the staircase without giving me a second glance. I can see YN trying to hold her tongue from further rebuking our daughter, and I give her a small smile, my silent way of telling her ‘it’s okay.’

“Sorry about that,” she mutters, referring to Minnie’s attitude. She grabs a mug from the cupboard, then holds it up in silent invitation. I nod, and she turns to the pot. “I can’t keep up with her mood shifts anymore.”

“It’s alright,” I tell her, willing to take my share of the blame. “I’m sure the shift has everything to do with me.”

“Not true,” she replies as she pours the coffee into our mugs, adding a splash of milk to hers but keeping mine just like that because she knows I take my coffee black. “She’s been like that with me as well and I’m not sure why. She’s only nine but she acts as if she’s thirteen already.”

I can’t help but laugh and turn to my little lad. “Can you be six forever?”

“No,” he says immediately without even taking a second to think.

“Just no?”

“No,” he gives me a toothy grin. “I want a lego city set but mummy said it’s for eight-year-olds. So I cannot wait to be eight.”

I set him on the counter and give him a conspiratorial smirk before I whisper to him. It’s a little too loud to be considered a whisper, but I want my wife to hear it. “Tell you what, we’ll get one of those sets tomorrow on our day out.”

His eyes light up instantly and my wife rolls her eyes jokingly, “I hear that.” Jokingly, because I know for sure she doesn’t mind me spoiling our children. She does it too. 

“Where are you taking them tomorrow?”

“To your mum’s pudding shop for breakfast, then probably fishing, and the toys shop now apparently,” I tell her our itinerary. I have the kids for the whole day tomorrow since it’s Saturday. It’s bittersweet because I’ve missed my children and I can’t wait to spend time with them, but I’m also sad because what I wouldn’t give to turn tomorrow into a family day out instead. I know she would most likely decline, but I can’t help offer her, “would you like to come with us?”

She gives me a subtle shake of her head. “No thanks. Enjoy it, it’s your time with them.”

***

I’m renting a room above The Old Nags Head during my stay here. I plan to stay for a week before I have to go back to London, and even though the thought of having to leave my children again is killing me, I’m trying to cheer myself up by reminding myself that it’ll be Christmas soon enough and I’ll get to visit again.

But then I’ll have to leave again. 

And visit again, but knowing in just a week or two, I would have to say goodbye to them again.

Fuck, this is killing me. I’m a family man through and through, and not being with them physically hurts. I shouldn’t be in this room sulking alone. I should be there in that home with my wife and children, probably helping Minnie and George with their homework or making dinner for all of us.

I was prepared to sulk some more, but then I heard a knock on the door. I was not expecting company so I’ve got no idea who it is, and I’m quite surprised when I see Jamie, YN’s brother as I open the door. 

We were quite close, but now that I broke his little sister’s heart, I can’t tell if this is a pleasant visit or if he’s just here to knock me square on my arse. 

“Got time for tea downstairs?” He asks

Honestly, I haven’t got any appetite. But I could use a few pints so I nod and lock the door behind me, following him downstairs to the pub. 

The Old Nags Head is the oldest and most famous pub in Bakewell. The pub itself is a former smithy dating back to the 16th century, and certainly looks the part; thick stone walls, low ceilings, welcoming log fires and dark timber beams. The pub remains at the centre of the community, as it has been for hundreds of years. It offers the best classic pub grubs, and even has its own ale called the Nags 1577. 

It’s the perfect place to drown my sorrows. 

Except, the current owner of that very pub happens to be none other than my wife’s granddad whom everyone here calls Pop. Out of all members of her family, she is the closest to Pop, so I know for sure that I’m the last person he wants to see. 

We sit at the bar table facing the window, which is good because Pop is behind the main bar, and this way I don’t have to actually talk to him. 

“Ya want owt?” Jamie asks as he does a quick perusal of the menu. I’m not even sure why he bothers, because even I know what he’s going to order. It’s Pop’s signature steak and ale pie. Ten years of being his brother in law, not once I ever saw him order something else. 

“Just a pint,” I tell him. 

It doesn’t take long after Jamie orders his food and our drinks before two pints are placed before us, and we each take a savouring sip.

And then Jamie point-blank asks me, “so what did you do?”

I really can’t tell anything from his expression, because he keeps his face blank. But I give him a bark of mirthless laughter. “It’s what I didn’t do, mate. She didn’t say anything?”

“Not a word,” he shakes his head, “what didn’t you do?”

“I stopped paying attention to my wife. Got caught up in my career. The travelling for tours she understood, but it was when I was home and hanging out more with my bandmates than with my family that she couldn’t forgive. And what little time I had left, I gave to Minnie and George. I think I just stupidly assumed she would always be there for me, no matter what.”

“Was there any infidelity?” He asks.

“God, no,” I shake my head hard. “You know I’d never do that to your sister. I love her, and she’s more than enough for me.”

Obviously, I’m not going to tell him this, but ironically, our sex life didn’t diminish. We were combustible in bed, and my mistake was in thinking that was enough for her. 

I look at the pudding shop right across the street as I take another sip, and I nearly choke on my beer when I see a familiar face walking out of the shop. 

“What in the ever-loving fuck?” I growl. 

That’s my wife, walking out of her mum’s pudding shop. She is not alone. There’s a guy with his hand pressed to her lower back while her head is tipped back, laughing at something he’s saying. I suddenly feel sick to my stomach when the bastard’s palm drops from my wife’s back to take her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. She smiles, all doe-eyed, as they walk to God knows where. 

“What?” Jamie looks at me confused for a second, but then he follows my gaze and he finally sees what’s causing me distress. “Oh, that.”

“You knew about that?”

He nods. “She’s been seeing him for about three weeks now.”

“Fuck,” I mutter and pinch the bridge of my nose.

“She didn’t tell you?” Jamie asks and I shake my head. 

“Three weeks you said?”

Jamie nods again. “He makes her happy.”

“I’m her husband,” I can’t help but say bitterly. “I should be the one making her happy.”

“Look, I’m sorry mate,” he offers, I know he’s trying his best to keep his tone neutral. “Maybe you need to get back in the dating game too. It’ll distract you.”

“I don’t want to fucking date anyone else,” I growl.

“I know it’s hard to get back in the saddle,” he adds sympathetically.

“I don’t want to get out of my current saddle,” I grumble. “I want to keep my current saddle with my wife in it.”

Jamie blinks in surprise, hell I’m even surprised at what I’ve just said out loud because I’ve never admitted this since we split. When YN asked me to leave, I assumed right away that my marriage was over. I didn’t want it to, but I thought there was nothing I could do. 

But now, seeing her laughing at another man’s joke and his hand holding hers, I just know that I can’t let her go without a fight. 

“Have you told her this?” He asks curiously.

I shake my head again. “We haven’t got the chance to have a civil conversation these days.”

“Then I suggest you stop being such a bloody whinge bucket and have a civil conversation with your wife.”

My shoulders immediately sag in defeat. “I know. I need to sit down with her and tell her how I feel.”

“Which is?” He presses.

“That I want her back,” I mutter.

“You’ve got to have a better plan than that,” he points out. “I mean… I’m not a marriage therapist, but I’m pretty sure that you’ve got to be prepared to fix the shit first.”

I can’t help but tilt my head towards the pudding shop where my wife had just walked out the door. “She’s moved on. You said it yourself that he makes her happy. Tell me how to compete with that.”

“Make her happier,” he says simply. I can only let out a heavy sigh, but I know that's solid advice. “Listen, if you really want to save your marriage, you need to make it work. Romance her again. Lots of flowers, nice romantic dinners out. Compliments, chocolates. All that sort of thing.”

“You think that’ll work?”

“I don’t know,” he answers truthfully. “But I do know that you’ll regret it for the rest of your life if you don’t do anything about it.”

***

My emotions are a mixed bag this morning. Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited to spend the whole day with my kids, but the fact that I have just learnt last night that my wife is currently seeing another man doesn’t sit right with me.

I know Jamie was right. If I want to save my marriage, I need to get my head out of my arse and do something to win my wife back. Sure, I don’t even know where to start since she doesn’t give me the time of day. But I do know that starting today, I’m a man on a mission. It’s Operation Conquer YN: day 1. 

It’s currently 8:40am, which means I’m twenty minutes early. I hope the kids won’t be ready yet, so I’ll get a chance to talk for a little bit to my wife.

When I ring the doorbell, I can hear George pounding down the stairs, yelling, “I got it!”

The door flies open and he jumps into my arms right away. My little lad truly misses me, and it really does warm my heart. Now, I love my children equally, but before I got here yesterday, I thought Minnie would be the one to jump all over me since she’s a daddy’s girl through and through, while George has always been a mummy’s boy since the day he was born. 

But again, I should’ve known. Since YN and I split, Minnie sort of puts herself in her mum’s corner. Every time I actually got the chance to talk to her on the phone when I was still in LA, it was always extremely short before she quickly handed her mum’s phone to her little brother. I try not to take her behaviour to heart, because I guess it’s what nine-year-olds do when they don’t quite understand why their parents aren’t together. They just need someone to blame, and my daughter is way more mature than her age. She’s bloody smart too, which she definitely takes after her mum, and I know that she knows it’s my fault that her mum and I separated.

Now that I think of it, it’s not just my wife that I desperately need to win back. But also my daughter.

“Daddy!” George chirps. He’s got a milk moustache and the sight never fails to get me to chuckle. “You’re early.”

“I know,” I reply with a tender smile. “I just can’t wait to spend the day with you lot.” 

“I’m going to get ready!” He announces excitedly as he squirms in my arms wanting to be put down, and he runs up the stairs before I can even reply.

I look around, and my gaze lands on the sofa, a hazel leather sofa that YN picked out. It’s so comfy and I could nap there forever.

Then there’s the coffee table, where YN, Minnie, George and I sat around and played board games. Catan is our family’s favourite, followed closely by Monopoly. 

The corner where we always put the Christmas tree, right next to the fireplace. And every year it didn’t matter how hard I tried, I could never get the bloody thing to stay straight. 

I miss this little cottage. Sure, the house in South Kensington is our marital house, but this cosy little cottage in the middle of nowhere feels more like home to me. And now I truly get why YN was so adamant to move here permanently after we separated, didn't matter how hard I tried to persuade her to stay in London.

“You’re early,” my wife blinks in surprise, but quickly masks it. “Minnie darling, go and get ready.”

“Do I really have to go?” My nine-year-old whines and I feel a pang. She really doesn’t want to spend time with me.

“Minnie, that’s not nice,” YN reprimands her before I can stop her.

“I’ve missed you, poppet,” I say, wanting to look at her in the eyes but she refuses to meet my gaze. Which hurts, but it’s fine. I know it’ll take some time for her to warm up to me. “I want to spend the day with you and your brother. I promise I’ll try to make it fun for you both.”

“Fine,” she replies, before marching up the stairs to her room. There’s still a hint of sulkiness in her tone, but at least I didn’t get a heavy sigh. I know it’s a small win but honestly, it’s better than none.

“Coffee’s in the pot,” she tells me politely from where she’s sitting at the island. She has her laptop open before her, and I can see her writing an email. I bet she’s working today, even if it’s Saturday, because my wife is such a hard-worker. She works remotely for a consulting firm and I’m beyond proud of her.

I nod and pour the coffee, and I let the silence carry on for a bit before saying, “saw you getting cosy with your new boyfriend last night.”

She instantly looks up from her laptop, giving me a death glare. Her tone is defensive when she says, “that’s none of your business.”

“You could’ve at least told me that you were seeing someone,” I tell her, making elaborate gestures with my coffee mug.

“Why would I do that?” She retorts defensively. “Last time I checked, you didn’t give a shit about me when we were married. Why on earth would I assume you do now?”

Hearing that, it feels like Chuck Norris himself just kicked me in the nuts. I can only mutter, “we’re still married.”

“Not for long,” she replies faintly.

“Don’t say that,” I say, my breath a little jagged. “We can still fix this, darling. I know we can.”

“Are you mad?” She snaps, but then she takes a deep breath, and her tone is a lot calmer when she adds, “Harry, it’s too late.”

“No, it’s not. It’s never too late to get our marriage back on track,” I plead desperately. “Would you at least give me a shot?”

“What do you mean?” She frowns. 

“You can continue to see Mr Wife-stealer-”

“He’s not a wife-stealer,” she snaps, cutting me off. “He’s got a name.”

“Well, he’s stealing my wife,” I grumble like a stroppy child.

“You’re being such a child,” she retorts. “His name is Luke, he’s a decent guy, and he makes me happy.”

“I’m not afraid to go head to head with him,” I say defiantly. 

“Fuck’s sake, Harry, we’re not on a bloody Love Island,” she says in exasperation. “Two children are involved here, this isn’t a game.”

“I know it isn’t,” I reply with a sigh. “Just please give me another shot, darling. Let me remind you how great we were together.”

“You mean the sex?” She demands, one side of her upper lip curls in a sneer.  

I bend my head and murmur, “we were dynamite in the sack, weren’t we?”

I see the flash in her eyes as she remembers, and it makes me want to beat my chest in victory. But the euphoric feeling is short-lived when she says, “a relationship is so much more than just sex. If you don’t understand it then-”

“I do, fuck, I do know that,” I cut her off in a strangled, desperate voice. “At least let me try, darling. Fuck if I’m letting you go without a fight.”

We lapse into silence as she gives me a sceptical look, and I know in this moment that my biggest challenge is to regain her trust, as well as accepting the fact that she has someone else fighting for her attention. 

I know this will be tough, because I let her down over and over again. And worse, I let my children down too, because I was never quite able to make my family my highest priority. It was all my fault, I knew it then, still do now. That’s why when she asked me to leave, I couldn’t even argue. I was a shit husband and father, and I deserved that.

Trying to win Minnie is probably going to be the easiest because beneath this ‘tweenage’ attitude going on, I know she is a sweet girl who loves her daddy. I need to devote more attention to her, maybe take her on some daddy-daughter dates. I know it’ll work because I’ve never given her enough on a consistent basis. 

YN is going to be the most difficult, because I really broke her heart. I’ve been married to her for ten years, so I can say with confidence that I know for sure she would never fall for things like flowers or gifts. I have to show her that I genuinely want to fix our marriage, and that my interest in her is real. It’ll be like starting all over again. 

And on top of that, she’s seeing someone else and she said it herself that he does make her happy. I know she’s not lying about it, as Jamie also told me the same thing last night and I saw with my own eyes how she laughed with him last night. Seeing that killed me, because I don’t have the ability to make her laugh like that anymore, but I couldn’t deny that there was a small part of me that was happy for her.

She may have sneered when I insinuated I’d be glad to remind her of the good times, but I saw it in her eyes. There was still a slight burn, and that might just have to be my angle. 

But then I remember our last time together. It was only two days before she asked me to leave and I remember coming home mid-morning after a meeting with my manager and publicist to find her lying in our bed, clad in sexy lingerie. I had my mouth on every inch of her, a good deal of time between her legs, and after she reciprocated by taking me into her mouth.

The kids were in school, and apparently, she took a sick day because I had told her the night before that I only had one meeting in the morning that day. After, she cuddled in close, and we talked for a while. She seemed happy, but then there was a hint of hesitation in her voice when she suggested, “fancy just spending all day in bed until school pick-ups?”

I mean, what man in his right mind would say no to that? The kids were gone for at least another five hours, I had a gorgeous wife naked and wanting more of what we just did… 

Yet, I’d said no. “Sorry, doll. I’m meeting the lads at the studio in about an hour.”

I didn’t see it then, but I do now and it’s clear as day. The look on her face had been blank, and there wasn’t even disappointment like she would usually show me. She hadn’t tried to get me to change my mind. There hadn’t been a guilt-laden frown to give me pause.

I realise now what it was.

It was the moment my wife finally gave up on me.

My chest constricts as it finally dawns on me the pain she must have been feeling. I’m not just talking about that day. That had been our life for several years.

No wonder she asked me to leave.

No wonder she’s moving on with Mr Wife-stealer.

No wonder that, at this moment, I realise I’ve got tons of work to do because sex isn’t going to be the answer in winning my wife back.

***

“Will the baby just eat when you give it the bottle?” Minnie asks her uncle Jamie as the four of us gaze at the baby goat in front of us. For the first time since yesterday, I actually see the slight curve up of lips that form a fond smile. Seeing that smile on my daughter’s face, I’m glad we didn’t go fishing and end up going to the barn instead. We were actually already on our way, but Jamie texted me that the mother goat had given birth this morning, and he wanted me to tell Minnie and George. The goats are a new addition to the farm, so they have been so excited to see baby goats. I knew from the look in their eyes that they would have a much better time seeing baby goats rather than fishing. 

It turns out that there’s only one baby goat, because the other one sadly didn’t make it. And the dam isn’t producing milk, so the kid needs to be bottle-fed until the mother is producing again. I can’t help but smile fondly at the baby goat too because it’s adorable. It’s a soft little white goat with a pink nose and ears. The dam is a Pygmy but since it has blue eyes, Jamie thinks she must have Nigerian Dwarf genes somewhere in her.

“It’s a female… a doeling,” Jamie tells her. “And she will if she’s hungry. You want to try to feed her? Look, she’s hungry again.”

We watch for a moment as the baby goat walks on wobbly legs, bleating in hunger. Jamie mixes the powdered formula and makes a bottle for her, then he hands the bottle to Minnie.

But Minnie shakes her head. “Maybe next time. I want to see you do it first.”

“Alright then,” Jamie nods, then turns towards my little lad. “How about you, mate? Wanna feed her?”

“No thank you,” says George as he shakes his head, and then he giggles, “she smells funny.”

“Can I do it?” I ask and Jamie nods as he hands me the bottle. 

I sit down against the wall with my children sitting on either side of me. And as if the goat can sense that I hold the key to filling her empty belly, the doeling starts to prance in excitement and falls over a few times due to what I assume is clumsiness. I love that she can walk normally but still choose chaos—honestly, she could’ve been my third child. There’s no stopping the surge of fondness that swells within me as I watch her little antics. 

“Come here little crumpet,” I coo at the goat.

The little goat scrambles right onto my lap, bleating hungrily. I wrap my arm around her and tip the bottle. She latches on instantly, and Minnie and George are aww-ing and ooh-ing over the way the baby goat’s little tail swishes back and forth so fast in ecstatic happiness as she drinks her milk. 

“You’re a hungry little thing, aren’t you?” Minnie murmurs and the little tail swishes faster as she pushes at the bottle to suck the milk down faster. “What’s her name, uncle Jamie?”

“I haven’t named her yet,” Jamie says. “What do you lot think we should call her?”

“Blue,” George suggests instantly, without looking away from the baby goat on my lap. 

“Ooh, I like it,” Minnie adds. “Like her eyes.”

“Blue it is, then,” Jamie grins. “Now, even though the dam is still not producing milk, we still need to train her to at least try to nurse, so she’ll do it right away when the dam is finally producing milk. Let’s see if we can get her to try to eat from the dam.”

He plucks the baby from my arms, and a series of yearning bleats come from the kid as he carries her to her mother. He places her near the dam’s udders and gives the baby a gentle push.

Much to our surprise, Blue spins away from Jamie and her mother and runs back to me. Although in all fairness, I am holding the bottle she was just drinking from. Jamie attempts three more times to get the baby to try to nurse from her mother, but she’s having none of it. 

Finally, he takes the bottle from me and walks across to the opposite wall. He sits down, holds the bottle out, and calls to the doeling. “Come here, baby. Come eat.”

Blue’s tail gives a few nervous twitches, but she doesn’t move towards Jamie. In fact, she takes a few hesitant steps backwards until she bumps into my legs. I’m amazed as I watch her stare hungrily at the bottle, bleating hungrily, but refusing to go to Jamie.

“Daddy, she thinks you’re her mummy,” says George and both my children burst in laughter.

“What?” I say in astonishment.

“I don’t think that doeling is going to feed from anyone but you,” Jamie adds with a chuckle as he stands up. He walks over and hands me the bottle. Blue jumps directly into my lap.

On autopilot, I offer the goat the nipple but look up to Jamie in panic. “What should we do?”

“Dunno, I’ll just try and do it when she’s hungry again in a few hours,” he shrugs. “But if she still doesn’t wanna eat, I’ll bring her to you.”

Any last vestiges of humour, happiness and downright giddiness over the cuteness of a baby goat fades as I realise I might or might not have just added another task to my list. Heavens help me.

***

“Let’s have a daddy and daughter date tomorrow.”

It’s a solid suggestion, and I really hope she’d say yes. Her little brother has his classmate’s birthday party to go to, so I know it’d be perfect for a little one-on-one time. 

We’re on our way back home after spending a whole day together. It was great, and even though I didn’t have happy-go-lucky Minnie, George had a great time, and it was enough for me. And at least she didn’t ask to go home early, so I’d call that a win.

“No, thanks,” she replies. There’s still not a hint of sulkiness in her tone, but it doesn’t sound technically warm either. 

I glance over through the rear-view mirror as she stares out the window with her arms folded. Her brother is sleeping next to her, and I figured this might be a good time to talk since she’s trapped in the car with me.

Everyone always says that Minnie is a mini-me, while George is a carbon-copy of his mum. Minnie has my nose, eyebrows, chin, even my smile; which is slightly lopsided and has a dimple on one side. I know I’m biased, but she truly is the most beautiful little girl I’ve ever seen.

Where Minnie shines, though, is her personality, which is a combination of her mum and me. She has her mum’s sunny disposition—aside from the days where she’s got a bag on—and always sees the good in everyone. She’s our little ray of sunshine, tender and caring and always trying to make others feel good.

From me, she gets her stubbornness, which even though I know is a good trait to have when she’s older, it made things so much harder when she was a toddler. She also has my terrible sense of humour, but the thing I’m most proud of is her work ethic. I can’t take full credit for that though, because her mother is a hard worker as well.

Ever since she started distancing herself from me, I know which subjects are safe, and which are not. School always falls in the safe category, because she enjoys it and excels. So I figure now that’s where I should start. “How’s school going?”

“Alright,” she replies, still looking out the window. 

Now, this really doesn’t sound at all like my daughter.

“Come on, Min,” I say desperately. “Tell daddy what’s been eating you. I can’t help if I don’t know what it is.”

“It’s nothing, I’m fine,” she says absently.

“Do you want to go and get some ice cream with me tomorrow?” That was our thing at least once every two weeks and she loved it.

“No, thank you.”

“Ice skating?”

“No, thank you.”

“Oh I know,” I say excitedly. “I’ve got a show in London in a couple of weeks, Jingle Ball. Do you want to come with me?”

Minnie has always been my biggest fan, clapping the hardest and yelling the loudest for her daddy. So it really takes me by surprise when she mutters, “shows, shows, shows… that’s all you care about, dad.”

I twist to peer out my window so she doesn’t see the wince that comes unbidden to my face if she looks through the mirror. That was a direct slam against me. 

That really does hurt, and I rub at the throb of pain behind my breastbone.

“That’s not true,” I reply faintly. 

“Did you care about my last ballet recital?”

Early this year, Minnie had a ballet recital. She was so excited about it because I had just finished my tour in December last year, and I’d already told my management that I would like a couple of months off. There was no reason for me not to attend, so I promised her I’d be there.

Except at the last moment, I realised I had forgot to switch an important meeting I had with the team from the new Manchester Arena. Since I invested in it, we had a meeting every few months because I said right from the beginning that I would take more than just a capital interest. I wanted to be involved in the development, because that was a huge project and I was really proud of it. 

YN was in charge of our schedule and when she reminded me about the recital, which conflicted directly with my meeting, we ended up getting in the worst row we’ve ever had throughout our marriage.

“You’re going to let our daughter down in a way she won’t forgive,” she stated.

I refused to believe that, brushing off her comment with “I’ll take her out for something special later.” But my wife turned and stalked away from me. 

That day, the meeting went great and the construction was almost done a few weeks earlier than intended, so there was an option if we wanted to open sooner. YN sent me a text with a video of Minnie’s performance, and it was beautiful. I was such a proud dad that I showed the video to everyone in that room. 

When I got home, my wife and children cuddled on the sofa, watching a film. George was snoozing with his head on his mum’s lap on the far end, so I plopped myself down beside Minnie. I tugged on her hair playfully, and asked if she wanted to go out to a special daddy-daughter dinner to celebrate her recital.

“No, thank you,” she replied quietly, not taking her eyes off the telly. 

“Come on, poppet,” I coaxed, trying to tickle her in the ribs a little. She only squirmed closer to her mum, not laughing from the tickle but grimacing like she didn’t want to be touched.

YN stared over Minnie with sorrow in her eyes. She gave a tiny shake of her head, but I wasn’t ready to give up. 

“The Ivy?” I tried to tempt her because my kid loves chips, and she’s obsessed with their truffle and parmesan chips.

“No, thank you,” she muttered again, her head resting on her mum’s shoulder and her arm crossed over her middle. YN cuddled her with an arm around her shoulder. It had been clear that they were a unit, and I hadn’t been included.

“Minnie decided she wants to stop ballet lessons, so that was her last recital.”

“Oh,” I’d replied dumbly.

I couldn’t think of another damn thing to say because to do so would be disingenuous. There’s no doubt I killed my daughter’s potential love of ballet by not coming to her recital. I knew that because of YN’s expression of disappointment and Minnie’s dull dismissal. 

Later that night, I walked by Minnie’s room and glanced in as the door was slightly open. I had bought her a bouquet of flowers that I gave her before I left for my meeting, and I saw that they’d been stuffed into the bin beside her desk.

I blink out of that memory, feeling the heavy weight of guilt. “Of course I did, my love. If I knew-”

“But not enough to come,” she replies dully. “And what about my debate competition? George’s piano recital? You showed up to none of them.”

I sigh heavily. “Minnie, a lot of parents have demanding jobs where they’re required to work or travel more than others. Sometimes A&E doctors have to work on Christmas and cannot see their children open the presents. Sometimes, a firefighter has to leave their house at night and can’t tuck their kids in bed.”

“I understand that,” she whirls and looks at me through the rear-view mirror. “Except you’re not saving lives or fighting fires, are you? You just get up on a stage and sing.”

“I’m a terrible dad, aren’t I?” I concede. “I know I’ve done things wrong in the past, but I’m trying to make it up to you, poppet. But I can’t do it if you won’t let me.”

She doesn’t say anything and it’s killing me. “You know I love you, right?”

“I know,” she rushes to assure me and I feel a little lighter. My daughter may act like a tween and have some bitter feelings towards me, but she loves me. 

“I don’t like seeing you like this,” I continue. “Tell me how to make it up to you and I’ll do it. I want things to be good between us again.”

Her eyes flare with shock, and then they dart away as if she’s considering something. I wait expectantly. Maybe she’s going to finally open up and pour out her feelings for me. I’m ready for it.

I’m ready to listen, and validate, and reassure her that she, along with her mum and brother, are the loves of my life. 

Her gaze comes back to me, her expression serious, and I brace.

“Can we get a puppy?”

What? 

There’s no stopping the unlocking of my jaw and the dropping of my mouth because this was the last thing I expected her to say. 

I’m so caught off guard that I can’t even think to immediately tell her ‘no’, which gives her time to launch into all the reasons why we should have a dog.

“Minnie, puppies are a lot of work. You’ve got to potty train them, teach them manners, and they get up for hours at night.” 

“I promise I’ll do all that,” she exclaims.

“Like how you were supposed to take care of Fishy?” I can’t help but remind her. Fishy was her goldfish that we had to throw a funeral for a few years ago because she forgot to feed him. That poor sod died of hunger.

Minnie rolls her eyes. “I was six.”

She’s got a point.

Still, it’s obvious part of her request is manipulation because she threw it at me when I opened myself up to vulnerability. She knows I’m trying, and she’s throwing me a clear bone.

Get her a puppy, and all will be forgiven.

“Tell you what,” I look over my shoulder after I parked the car since we’ve reached home. “I promise to think about it, and I’ll talk to mummy.” 

“Really?” She bounces in her seat in excitement.

“We’ll talk about it,” I reiterate in a calm, even voice. But there’s no stopping her excitement. The fact that I’m willing to consider is a huge victory for her because she knows that when I make my mind up about something, I never change it. 

I open the door for her, and she is quick to unbuckle herself and throws herself at me. 

I’m so surprised at the spontaneous act of affection that I almost don’t hug her back. It’s been so long since she’s shown this to me, and it’s the best feeling in the world.

I squeeze her tight, and I can only hope that my darling girl will always love her daddy the way she does right now. 

George doesn’t even stir as I pick him up, and I tuck him in his bed straight away since I don’t want to wake him up. He must be tired, and good thing I’ve fed them both dinner.

Minnie even gives me another hug before she gets ready for bed, and that results in me having a permanent smile on my face even as I walk down the stairs and into the kitchen to see my wife. 

“She’s chirpy,” YN comments when she sees me walking into the kitchen. “What did you do?”

“Got her to talk to me,” I smirk. 

She looks surprised, and well, I can’t blame her. “Did she?”

“She did,” I nod. “Pointed out all my flaws, and when I asked her how I could make it up to her, she asked for a puppy.”

“What?”

“Exactly my reaction,” I chuckle. 

“Boy, if she’s this good at emotional blackmailing at nine, we’d probably be in deep shit in a couple of years,” she jokes and I can’t help but laugh. 

I’ve missed this.

“Will you go out to dinner with me tomorrow night?” I blurt out before I can stop myself. 

“I can’t.”

“What? Got a hot date already?” I ask teasingly, but her silence tells me what I don’t want to know. “Oh, you’re going out with him.”

“Mr Wife- I mean Luke asked me out first and I already said yes.”

I shouldn’t be laughing because the fact that my wife going on a date with another man is not funny at all, but it’s hard to hide my smirk when she almost calls him by the nickname I’ve given him, Mr Wife-stealer. 

“Well, fair enough. He asked you first,” I say nonchalantly. “What does he do?”

“He’s an A&E doctor at the Northern General,” she says, her tone lightens a little.

“Smart then isn’t he,” I mutter. 

“Yes. He’s smart, attentive, caring and generous with his time.” 

I keep my expression and tone bland, but she landed a direct blow there and it fucking hurts. “All the things I’m not,” I state, voicing the conclusion she was aiming at.

“Well,” she drawls with a tiny bit of sympathy. “I do think you’re smart.”

I give her a side eye-roll before I decide to be downright nosy and ask, “you can’t have been on many dates then?”

“True,” she chirps, a gleam in her eye as she sticks the knife in. “He is busy and his schedules are unpredictable. But when he’s gone, he makes sure I know I’m always on his mind. He sends me flowers for absolutely no reason other than because he wants to, calls me every day and we text all the time.”

Well, sodding fucking bollocking shit wank. I didn’t think YN would fall for that crap. And I realise… I never thought to do that stuff for her. I was the self-absorbed type of person who figured that my wife knew I thought about her all the time when I was away. I mean we were married, so I just assumed she knew.

I’m a shit head. 

“What else does he do for you?” I ask and she blinks in surprise.

“Why?” She asks suspiciously.

“I told you I want our marriage to work.”

Her eyes narrow slightly, trying to read my tone and see whether I’m being genuine or it’s just bollocks. Finally, she replies primly, “I’m not giving away his secrets.”

What the fuck does that mean? Have they shagged? I would bet a million pounds they had not though, because I know YN and she wouldn’t enter into that deep of a relationship lightly.

Without even thinking twice, I make a sudden step into her. My arm goes around her waist and I pull her body into me. Not a single inch of space between us. Her mouth opens in a gasp of surprise, and I use the opportunity to kiss her.

I kiss the fuck out of my wife.

Her hands slap against my upper arms, and her fingers dig into my sleeves. Even as she’s pushing me away, her mouth opens, and her tongue touches mine briefly. 

When I pull back, I ask, “did he kiss you like this?”

She shakes her head, breathlessly admitting, “we haven’t-”

My jaw drops. “Are you joking?”

“I’m not,” she murmurs.

“How long exactly have you been seeing him?” 

“About four weeks.”

“Honey, he’s rooting for the other team,” I tell her and she slaps my arm. 

“Sod off, he’s not,” she counters.

“Four weeks with the hottest, most gorgeous, shaggable woman and he hasn’t tried to kiss you? I mean not that I’m not grateful because, fuck, I am. But wow.”

“Of course he did try,” she rolls her eyes. “But I’m not ready for that, and he’s okay with us taking it slow.” 

For a second I don’t say anything in response. Instead, I loosen my hold, bringing my hand to her lower back, and cupping her intimately from behind. Moaning, she leans into me. “I’m guessing he hasn’t touched you like this then.”

She doesn’t answer. Instead, she lets her eyelids flutter closed as her teeth bite into her lower lip.

Fuck. I could drag her to the floor right now, and we could go at it.

But then she comes to her senses, blinking rapidly, and I release her immediately when she gives me a tiny shove backwards. 

“You’re not playing fair,” she accuses. 

Damn right I’m not. I grab her upper arms, pull her back into me for one last kiss before I let her go just as quickly. “I’m playing to win.”

She takes a step back, brushes a wisp of hair from her temple, and puts on a cool expression. “That’s not going to make me take you back.”

I smirk.

She waves a dismissive hand. “Don’t get me wrong. You’re great with your hands and your mouth, but a lot of men know how to please a woman.”

She’s got a bonus point for trying to make me jealous, but I’m not falling for it. Instead, I give her a devilish smile and dip my head towards her. 

“That’s true, but no one will ever please you the way I can.”

I’m enjoying our banter, and I expect her to come up with a snappy retort that might make me kiss her again.

Instead, her expression is sad when she says, “I wish I could be happy with that.”

My heart squeezes, and I lift a hand to palm the side of her neck. I wait until she meets my gaze. “We’re more than just sex, darling. I know you need and deserve more. I’m ready to prove that to you.”

I lean in, pressing my lips to her forehead. 

She doesn’t respond as I pivot and head through the living room, letting myself out the door. 

All in all, I think that went very well.

***

I’m back at my wife’s cottage, waiting for my kids as they get ready upstairs. Minnie has finally agreed to go on a daddy-daughter date and George is going to an overnight sleepover birthday party, and I’ll drop him off at his classmate’s house before I take his sister out to dinner. I’ll make sure to make it up to him by taking him on a special one on one date too next week. 

There’s a light rap on the door, and my head swings that way. I have no doubt that it’s Mr Wife-stealer who’s going to take my wife out on a date.

I glance towards the master suite, but the door is closed. YN is probably putting on the finishing touches of her makeup. And the kids are still upstairs.

Nothing left to do but let him in.

Forcing a smile, I open the front door. He blinks in surprise to see me standing there, and I know I’ve got two options here; I could either easily dispel the awkwardness by being cool, welcoming and explaining our schedules happened to overlap.

Or… I could use whatever amount of alone time I have with him to instill some doubt inside his head.

That would be a dirty play, but as I have told my wife, I play to win.

Broadening my smile, I stick my hand out. “You must be Luke. I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Harry.”

He seems momentarily frozen, but then basic manners take over. When he shakes my hand, it’s a bit limp, perhaps denoting a lack of confidence. After I release him, I bid him entrance with a sweep of my hand. “YN is in the bedroom. She’s still getting ready.”

Luke frowns over the fact that I know YN is in the bedroom. Probably over me even being here to talk to him. But I don’t dispel any innuendo he might glean from that.

I loop an arm around his shoulders, clamp down, and start guiding him to the kitchen. “Come on in and sit for a bit while she’s finishing up. Want a beer?”

Luke moves to one of the island stools, looking completely frazzled. “Uh… no, thank you.”

I shrug, moving to the fridge and opening it. Grabbing a bottle, I say with a sly grin as I close it. “So glad YN still stocks my favourite beer.”

I am so going to hell.

But that’s the truth. It’s my wife’s favourite beer, too, but I don't tell him that. Instead, I let the implication that I come over and have beers often. Luke’s frown deepens.

“YN tells me you work at the Northern General?” I take a sip of my beer, then lean my forearms on the island directly across from him so we’re eye level.

“Yeah… uh, that’s right.” Poor Luke. He seems incapable of carrying on a polite conversation with the husband of the woman he’s dating. 

But I’m going to give him a pass. Setting my beer down, I straighten. “Let me go tell YN you’re here.”

“Um… you don’t have-” he starts to say, but I move past him without a backward glance. Through the living room, down the small hall, and a hard left takes me to the master suite. The door’s closed. I don’t bother knocking because I know YN is dressed.

I find her in the ensuite, her makeup drawer open and she’s huddled over it, touching something inside. 

“Your date’s here,” I announce.

She lets out a yip of fright, shoving whatever it was in her hand to the back and slamming the drawer closed. 

“Damn it, Harry,” she snaps, her palm pressed against her heart. “You scared the hell out of me. And what are you doing in my room?”

“Just running an errand for you. Wanted to let you know your date is here,” I say casually and I give her a mischievous grin. “Don’t worry, I welcomed him in, offered him a drink, and made small talk.”

She rolls her eyes, rising from her vanity chair and moves past me without another word. I start to follow, but then I hesitate and turn back to the drawer of her vanity. Quietly, I pull it open as far as it will go, spotting a picture of YN and me stuffed in the back.

I recognise it. It’s from a trip we took to Anguilla a few years back, just the two of us, and fuck if we didn’t look happy and deeply in love.

Was that what she was looking at when I walked in?

That could be good or bad, but either way, no way to know the answer. I shut the drawer, then catch up to her as she’s moving through the living room. Luke sees her, sliding off the stool. When she holds out her hands, he takes them and leans in to kiss her on the cheek.

Lame.

I sit on the armrest of the sofa, watching. Luke glances over YN’s shoulder at me as he pulls back, smiling victoriously. 

I just smirk back. Because he’d probably lose it if he knew the type of kiss I gave my wife just last night. But I’ll keep that information to myself, though.

YN grabs her handbag off the accent table near the staircase before addressing me. “Make sure Minnie locks up when you leave, and remind George I’ll pick him up at ten tomorrow morning.” 

I give her a jaunty salute. “Aye-aye, Captain.”

In return, I get another eye roll. 

Luke puts his hand on my wife’s back, shooting me a look that says, ‘she’s mine tonight’, and I want to punch his teeth down the back of his throat. I just smile blandly, because, in just a few minutes of talking to him and watching how they interact, I can tell he’s getting nothing more than a friendly kiss when he brings her home.

YN might want to keep pushing at that relationship, but I am willing to bet that it’s not going to go anywhere. I know this, because I’m sure that my wife is still in love with me. 

-

Read part II here!