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olivetreehugger · 3 years

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SnK Scouts/Veterans as Health Care Workers

Note: features Eren, Mikasa, Armin, Jean, Connie, Sasha, Levi, Erwin and Hange. A part two to my “SnK Warriors as HCWs” post found here. warning: mentions of blood, trauma, gore (it’s healthcare). Also, I know Hange is nb, I headcanon them as female, so I will be using she/her pronouns.

Eren: this boy is definitely too involved in everything and has too many people depending on him at once to not be a nurse. The kid barely passed the NCLEX but that didn’t stop him from applying to every trauma center within a 25 mile radius of him. He got hired as a night shift trauma ICU nurse and he frequently picks up shifts in the ER. He wears the cheapest scrubs he can find, often stained with ink in the pockets area. He isn’t a shitty nurse per se but there are tasks that still need to be done at the end of his shift and he gives a crappy report that’s missing too many details. Nurses hate picking up his patients, it’s always a mess. His charting is really spotty and he gets called into the manager’s office all the time to fix it.

Still, he tries really hard to improve his time management and skills. He wants to be like his friends Mikasa and Reiner, who are the best nurses he knows. He wants to be involved in the traumatic cases and emergencies because he wants to learn as much as he possibly can. He’s really good at wound care, for some reason (hint hint). He’s kinda cocky sometimes too, which can be troublesome when Dr. Galliard is working. People know to steer clear of those two when they’re both in the ER. Also, Eren always has a black cloud around him; whenever he works it’s gonna be a hella busy day in the hospital. Lots of emergency surgeries, intubations, codes and deaths. He’ll always jump in to help you if your patient is crashing, though, no matter how busy he is.

Mikasa: she’s a prodigy. She was a straight ‘A’ student in nursing school, got a perfect 75 on the NCLEX and was immediately hired to the trauma ICU after doing a short internship there. She worked night shift for a year but her sleep schedule was so so fucked she started having night terrors, so she switched to day shift. Eren still calls her a traitor for it :/. She keeps trying to get him to switch over but he just hisses at her and threatens to chug a case of Monster energy drinks. She hasn’t given upon him yet, though.

This girl’s work ethic is beyond measure. She comes in exactly at 6:30 am, looks up her patients, takes report, gives a great update to the doctors when they round, and provides impeccable care to her patients. She knows exactly which treatments the doctors will order before they even speak. She’s incredible at inserting IVs--everyone in the hospital knows Mikasa Ackerman can put an 18g in a 90 yr old lady’s arm AND get blood return (just trust me, it’s flipping impossible). She has great skill when it comes to emergency situations and is a big believer in team work. If she notices your patient’s crashing and you don’t know what to do, she’ll calmly coach you and save your patient, too. All before lunch time.

It doesn’t take Mikasa long to be promoted to charge nurse. When she’s in charge all the reports, paperwork and audits are completed before shift change. She divides the patient assignments really well and is very fair to the new grads. All around she’s an incredible nurse and leader on her unit, but don’t be fooled. If it’s been a rough day, Mikasa will get in her car and sob so loud her throat goes raw. A lot of people depend on her and working in a trauma ICU is really, really demanding. A lot of patients are demanding, rude and busy. She has a lot of trouble with stress management and is thinking of cutting her hours down so she can catch a break. Someone please hug her <3

Armin: for some reason my brain is just SCREAMING respiratory therapist. Like, I imagine this beautiful blond boy in gray scrubs (the color for RT’s in my hospital) going around helping intubate patients, giving nebulizer treatments and doing blood gases. I can just see him huffing and puffing when the attending doctor is overzealous about weaning vent support. -“Why are we changing the patient to pressure support? do you see how tachypneic he is on volume control?”

-“are you gonna put in the order? if not, your patient’s gonna be on PRVC all day, I’m not changing it without an order”

-“Doc, the patient looks like crap and their blood gas looks like death...oh, you still wanna extubate? ok, well I’m gonna leave the ventilator in here just in case. better yet, let me call a pastor in here, too.”

This kid is sassy af and he knows it. He’s smart af too, knows everything there is to know about the lungs and respiratory care. Knows every ventilator mode better than most doctors. Will certainly tell a resident off for ordering the wrong type of inhaler for a patient. He’s so damn intelligent that he even made the ice queen Annie melt like a popsicle.

He has no chill when it comes to his patients and even less chill (like -4078875874670) when a doctor gets in his way. For this reason, Armin has recently been toying with the idea of going to PA school so he can have a little more autonomy. He works al over the hospital, usually frequenting the trauma, CV, and medical ICU. The nurses there love him.

Jean: Jeannie boy. Baby. Sweetie. He’s also a nurse. He is strictly dayshift and trauma. When he first started, he thought he’d do a year in the ICU and then go to CRNA school. He didn’t want to be around sickly patients with hopes and dreams and fears--it was too icky for him. But, over time, he learned that he LOVED trauma. Jean loves the controlled chaos that comes with the ugly, bloody messes that roll in through the ICU’s doors. He always gears up for trauma season (summer time) by bringing Dunkin Donuts iced coffee for everyone on the unit (day and night shift because he’s a supportive king). He gets really good at dealing with arrogant trauma residents and ortho docs who think they’re hot shit. When Jean sees a resident yelling at a nurse, he jumps in and threatens to have their license revoked. He will dig under their skin and page them incessantly throughout the day, too, just to get back at them. Jean is not a fan of lateral violence in the workplace, no sir.

He always, always makes sure every room is stocked and new bags are hanging for the next shift. He has a thing where if things aren’t properly organized on the unit his brain just spazzes. He’s on the unit council and education committee because he also loves to teach the new grads. He also doubles as charge nurse, when management can’t be there (there can be one or more charge nurses amongst the staff, they usually work different days, though) He and Mikasa work so well together, teaming up to get tasks done, coding patients, running them down to get scanned, etc. People joke they’re the mom and dad of the unit. It makes them both blush <3 (Eren doesn’t like it, lol)

Jean loves to see patients healing from horrendous injuries, he’s constantly cracking jokes with the awake patients to try to make them feel better, and he’s really good at calming anxious family members down. Our boy just makes such good connections with people. He’s the guy you call when your confused patient is one second away from ripping his breathing tube out. He can convince the most restless, agitated patient to chill out. He’s got the voice for it. Also people love his mullet. It looks great.

Connie: I really didn’t know at first but I feel like Connie would make a great physical therapist. He’s got great energy, he’s funny and I could see him dancing to Earth, Wind & Fire in front of his patients to hype them up for therapy. He’d be very sweet with them

Sasha: I’m sick and tired of the food jokes, quite honestly. She’s more than that. In my mind, she’s an occupational therapist, helping disabled patients learn to feed, dress and clean themselves again. She works directly with Connie as they round on all their patients in the hospital, they make a great team! She’s extremely patient and would make a very good nurse, but is unsure of where life is taking her. That is until she meets Niccolo the dietician in the cafeteria, and she falls hard. He encourages her to follow her heart and she does!

Levi: Hm. This one stumped me. Levi is a bit...cold. It’s not like he has incredible social skills. He’s meticulous and focused and kinda mean? He reminds me of an anesthesiologist, tbh. Like he’ll sedate the shit outta you for surgery, makes sure you don’t die on the table, and then drops you off to the unit as fast as he can. He never takes off his mask while in the hospital and he scrubs maybe four times before surgery. He is very good at medication calculations and knows everything about nerve blocks, intubation, pain medication and sedation. He can look at a person and just KNOW what kind of sedative to give and how much. Your blood pressure will never bottom out while he’s there, he’ll warn the surgeon and immediately get that norepinephrine started.

If Zeke is the one operating, Levi is on his ass to finish up the surgery ASAP and to not linger, because Zeke takes his time and ignores the tele monitor alarming in the background. After surgery, this 5′2 demon will scream at the 6′ resident about the importance of blood pressure management and sedation in neurosurgical patients. Levi plays no games and he also just really hates Zeke lol

He seems like a jerk but genuinely cares about getting his peeps through surgery. His favorite surgeon to work with is Hange Zoe, because she’s brilliant and fast, but also cognizant of her patient’s hemodynamics. Levi likes taking trauma cases as long as it’s with her. When he drops a patient off to the trauma ICU or goes there to intubate, he makes sure Jean or Mikasa are there because he knows everything is gonna go smoothly. He trusts them a lot. He likes Armin, too and even let him intubate a few times. On his breaks, he’s drinking tea and reading a Williams & Sonoma catalog or scrolling through cleaning Tik Tok lol.

Erwin: This man. This beautiful and hunky beefcake. Omg. I HC him as someone who went to nursing school, became a charge nurse on the trauma unit back in the early 2000′s and fell in love with it. Erwin would eventually fall in love with leadership and educating, too. He went back to school and earned his Doctorate of Nursing Practice (a practice doctorate). He managed the trauma unit for ten years before his brilliant leadership skills and wicked smart brain got him elected as the Director of Trauma Surgery recently. He is the first person with a nursing degree and DNP to ever accomplish this, so it’s very controversial. A lot of toxic doctors threaten to leave the hospital for this (because they’re assholes), but Erwin threatens to fire them in response and it usually shuts them up.

He often holds lectures in the hospital auditorium. With a mind and voice like his, people are so drawn in by him. He advocates for nursing staff, for reimbursement when continuing their education, better staffing, parking, etc. He makes nice with doctors and gets them to sign petitions for the nurses to get these things. He’s a bit manipulative He’s also a fantastic manager and director, he’s really good at negotiating things. The nurses and residents all love him because he rounds on every ICU frequently, brings food, and asks them how he can help. He can be a bit daunting because of his height and deep voice but once he starts talking to you, you just get sucked in. All around an absolute king.

Hange: This character reminds me of a trauma surgeon and intensivist (ICU doctor) we have, Dr. Omi. A great surgeon, really really smart, but takes absolutely NO bullshit. She will yell at you if you freeze during intubating. She wants you to recite every step before you take it, otherwise she’ll take the tube from you and do it herself. In surgery, she’s the same way. She wants you to learn, but by her standards. If she asks a question, you better know the answer or fess up right away, she doesn’t like the “uhms” of uncertainty as you try to search for a shitty response. Either you know it or you don’t. And if you don’t, she’ll teach you. Yeah she can be rough around the edges, but she’s got a big heart. She loves her trauma team. She buys them breakfast and gives them funny personalized gifts. One time, she bought an apply tree for Mikasa and brought it to her car at the end of a shift. Mikasa forgot to plant it and it died in her backseat. Hange will sometimes ask, “Mikasa, how’s your apple tree growing?” and Mikasa will lie through her teeth. “It’s growing!” Fess up, Mikasa. Those google search apple trees are starting to look familiar.

All around Hange loves to work and teach. She is a wonderful trauma surgeon and has saved tons of lives.

#snk headcanons #attack on titan #eren jaeger #mikasa ackerman #armin arlert #jean kirstein #connie springer #sasha braus #levi ackerman #erwin smith #hange zoe #lama writes

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keanureevesisbae · 4 years

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The alluring charm of Henry Cavill - Chapter 1

Summary: Adelaide Park meets Henry Cavill for the first time and she is obviously very nervous.

Henry Cavill x Adelaide Park (ofc)

Wordcount: 3.5k

A/N: If you want to be on the taglist, just let me know. And please let me know what you guys think. I’d love to hear your thoughts about it 😘

Masterlist // Introduction // Next chapter

I’ve never been to Italy before. Actually, before I was a renowned actress, I never came outside of LA. Growing up, my parents never had the money to go to a different city, let alone other countries. My vacations were spend solely in our small one room apartment back in Los Angeles by myself.

My parents were never rich. My dad worked long hours in a factory every single day, but earning just enough money to pay the rent and for me and mom to eat. One night, I saw him scraping the packages or our plats clean, so he had something to eat as well. After I saw that, I never ate all the food off my plate, because I realized that my dad was working the hardest, but was eating the least.

It always broke my heart to see both of them struggle. My mom used to be a cleaning lady, but after she got fired, she became a live-in nanny, which basically meant that from my sixth birthday, she was barely home anymore and I had to raise myself.

Hours on end I was alone. Back in school I barely had any friends—correction: I had no friends at all—and when I came home from school, I’d sit outside to do my homework, because dad didn’t have enough money to get a second set of keys.

I never complained about it, because I knew they were trying and I learned all too well from that one time when I asked for a Barbie doll back when I was five and I kept crying about it, because other kids had Barbie dolls and I was the only one who didn’t. My mom got so mad, that she grabbed my empty plate and threw it against the wall, while she was screaming something about how ungrateful I was. Mom never got mad, she was always admirably calm and collected, even when life got in the way like it did with us. Seeing her like this, meant she was serious and I never said anything about something like that anymore. I never asked for anything, at all.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my parents and I am so thankful for everything they taught me and did for me. It may have been a hard time, but every year for my birthday, they gave me something. It was always something I really needed, but I always appreciated how they went out of their way for me, wondering how many meals they skipped for this present.

It all became worse when I finished high school at the age of nineteen. I was older than everyone else, since I read so slowly and didn’t even understand it most of the time, causing me to get behind on many classes over the course of the years. Besides, our school wasn’t known for having the best results overall, so the fact that I didn’t score well, meant I was blending in with the rest.

I was working in a diner, because I wasn’t smart enough at all for a scholarship, when my mom got in a terrible accident, when she walked back home and she was hit by a car who ran through a red light. She was paralyzed from her waist down and besides the high hospital bills, she also needed psychical therapy, something that unfortunately isn’t free.

With what my dad and I were earning together, we couldn’t even pay two percent of those costs. I was thinking about putting myself up on a sugar daddy website, but I know I couldn’t lie to them, when I would come back with a lot of money. Besides, my dad was always very strict about what mom and I could and couldn’t do to make money and sugar daddies were off limits. He told me multiple times—even after mom’s accident—that we had nothing to worry about. That he would take care of it.

But I had something to worry about, because my father wasn’t getting any younger. He had been working too hard for too long and all he wanted, was staying with his wife, who he still loved so so much, despite everything they had gone through. I took up more shifts at the diner, only slowly coming to terms that, even with the tips I was receiving, it was never enough to cover the bills.

In about two months, my mom would be discharged from the facility, if we hadn’t paid at least something significant.

One day, I was walking back home from work, when I saw a huge billboard, with a message that a studio was looking for someone to star in one of the biggest sitcoms of that time: Remembering High School. Apparently, one of the new main characters (who was an adult) was having a flashback from when they were in high school—the main premise of the show. And that character happened to be an Asian lady.

I went in and decided I would try it out. I mean, I had no acting experience and solely did it to earn some money, but being Asian American was apparently enough and that was the beginning of my acting career.

At first the amounts of money I made were not enough to cover the medical costs, but it was enough to delay further payment and my mom could stay in the facility.

For years I had difficulty with reading, let alone reading out loud, with an audience, but somehow on the set, I could forget about that. I could finally be someone I really wanted to be. For a few moments I could forget all the sorrows and worries I had resting on my shoulders.

The first five weeks, I’d combine my new acting career with my job in the diner, but after awhile I became a recurring character and for a whole year, I was part of the cast. I remember walking into my mom’s room, showing both her and my dad the first episode I was going to star in. ‘I’m from Minnesota,’ was my first line and the beginning of a very promising career.

My parents were so proud of me. My dad didn’t even care about the money I made at first, because he was so happy that I was doing something that from the looks of it, I actually enjoyed.

Over the years, I’ve come to love acting, but no one knows I do it because of my family. Actually no one knew about my family situation and since I have zero friends, even in the industry (because I barely talk about my personal life and I never budge, even when the try to pry information about it. My co-stars are acquaintances, almost like neighbors: you know one another, but you don’t know them), no one is aware that every penny I earn, goes directly to my family.

Nowadays I make millions, but I’m mainly spending it on my mom, but also on other people who are paralyzed and need psychical therapy, but were in the same boat as my family and my parents met over time in the facility. Money doesn’t mean a lot to me and these people can use it a lot better than I can.

Besides, my parents worked so hard for me growing up, this is the only way for me to pay them back. Despite not having any money themselves, nor stuff, they always taught me to share, to make sure that other people are well taken care off.

The flight from Japan to Italy moved along pretty quick, but maybe that’s because I was traveling first class. My latest movie took place in Japan and though I loved it there, I really want to see what Italy is like, after spending eight months in a lousy hotel in Japan.

After becoming an actress, I went to a lot of great places for shooting movies. I went to Suriname, Canada, Spain, Australia and this time it was Japan. I’m so blessed that I get to travel, knowing really well that other people are still struggling with what I used to struggle with. Sometimes I donate the earnings of a movie to movements that catch my eye, that help kids in certain areas of California with their school work, and with access of clothes and food. I always donate anonymously, not wanting to seem like a philanthropist who is doing this solely for her own image.

I always think that if you really care about something, you would do it without earning praises.

Participating on ‘The Celebrity Project’ wasn’t something I would normally do, but when they reached out to me, I was actually delighted that I was going to be part of this. Maybe I could finally show the world that I’m not as stupid as I appear in interviews.

Being a loner, a slow reader and probably has multiple learning disabilities (if I actually got tested, but the tests were too expensive and no one at school seemed to care and I’m actually too embarrassed to get myself tested now I’m a twenty-five year old), I often come off as an airhead and it’s my own fault really. I do give them enough stupid material to go on about that accusation.

However, I’m really nervous. I mean, I’m going to work together with Henry Cavill. He is charming and sounds so intelligent. When I was done filming and back at my hotel room, I’d watch his interviews, because I wanted to know what I was going to work with. The way he is so articulate and he obviously knows what he is doing, makes me feel even worse about myself. I’m a total disaster and already a burden to him I presume.

I’m sitting in a taxi, waiting for traffic to calm down a bit. It’s early in the mornings and thankfully I got to make myself a bit more presentable in the plane already. I notice the tiny camera’s being strategically placed in the car. It really begun, I think to myself. I’m part of a reality show now. ‘How are you feeling, miss Park?’ the taxi driver asks. ‘I recently heard about this program.’

‘I’m a bit nervous,’ I say, wondering whether or not he is payed to to talk to me about this. I rummage through my purse, hoping I can find my lip balm.

‘Are you looking forward to work with Henry Cavill?’

That name alone makes me nearly make me shit my pants already. ‘Yeah, he seems like a nice man, so I really look forward to work with him.’ And I sure as hell hope that I won’t let him down.

The drive to the hotel is about an hour, but it feels like time is going by a whole lot faster. The chauffeur talks about his family and how his wife is actually a fan of my movies and has watched every single one of them. I took a few pictures with him and signed the inside of the cracker box, because that was all he got with him for me to write something on.

After I said goodbye to him, I’m told that I should go to room 346. With my suitcases with me, I step into the elevator, a cameraman close by. They told me that at one point, these cameramen would just be invisible to me, but I highly doubt it. They are only with us during the assignments. In the cars and at the place where we’re staying, the camera’s are hidden.

When I’m in front of the door, I take a deep breath.

I can do this I think to myself. I have starred alongside other talented people. My first real role was playing Keanu Reeves’ daughter, I was Angela Bassett’s assistant and I also had some pretty steamy scenes with David Castañeda, after his Umbrella Academy days. I can handle being around Henry Cavill, right? I knock on the door three times and I open it a bit, peeking my head around the door.

I can conclude that I’m severely underdressed. I’m wearing a simply jean short, white crop top with some lace on the borders and socks with the same lace details as my top, paired with white sneakers.

I look like a slob, compared to Henry, who seems like he stepped out of a Disney movie. His white blouse, off-white pants and those loafers. The only thing that is missing, is his yacht with the name Serenity.

A smile creeps up on my face, as I step into the room, rolling my pink suitcases with me, because he actually looks approachable.

‘Hi there,’ he says with a small smile on his face. He walks up to me, holding out his hand. ‘I’m Henry, nice to meet you.’

I can’t help but blush. He is so charming and his accent makes him so posh. I place my hand in his and it almost disappears. Not to be that girl, but my size kink is activated right here and now. ‘Adelaide,’ I say. ‘Uhm, it’s nice to meet you… Too.’

I curse my tongue.

‘How was your flight?’ he asks, as he gestures to the couch for us to sit on.

I take place right next to him and I feel like a child sitting next to her dad. Why is he so massive? ‘It was okay. Yours?’

‘It flew by.’

I raise my eyebrows. ‘Was that… a pun?’

Henry chuckles nervously. ‘Maybe, I’m sorry.’

I look around me. The hotel room seems okay, but I bet we’re not going to stay here for long. I stare at the silver tray in front of us, with a set of keys and an envelope with our names on it.

Henry takes the envelope from the tray and holds it in front of me. ‘You want to read it?’

I shake my head. ‘No, you go.’ The whole idea of reading out loud without practice, makes me want to vomit. Before the table reads, I use this program that will read everything for me, even using the right intonation. I stay up for way too many hours for that, because once I’ve heard it, I made notes, I can better read it.

Back when I was doing ‘Remembering High School’ I had the woman who played the adult version of me read it to me, because I had to portray the young her and keep her character in mind. Since she was an established character on the show, she had certain ways of saying things I had to copy. She never knew the real reason I wanted her to read it out loud for me.

He cocks an eyebrow, but then opens the envelope. He clears his throat, before a dramatic reading of our first assignment rolls out of his mouth. How can he make a simple note sound so… Sensual, almost? His deep and dark voice, making it sound way more intense than it actually is. I wouldn’t mind if he read my scripts out loud for me.

‘Dear Adelaide and Henry, the adventure of ‘The Celebrity Project’ has officially started,’ he says, tilting the card a little, so I can read a little bit with him. It’s a nice gesture really and I appreciate the thought. ‘We have provided you with a nice car, to drive to the little cottage, specially arranged for the two of you. Tomorrow will be a nice day for you to relax (because you two are both severely jet lagged we presume) and the day after that, you’ll be expected for your first assignment. Enjoy the car ride and remember: look out of your window every now and then. We are aware that Henry is really handsome, Adelaide and you’ll be forced to only look at him, but nature can be beautiful too.’

I scrunch up my nose. That last sentence seemed so forced and this is exactly the reason why I don’t like these types of survival, borderline reality shows. It’s not reality. It’s this forced setting, hoping to get people to believe that this is how real life should look like.

And I don’t like deceiving people like that. I almost regret participating.

‘Right, well, we might as well just go,’ he says, his tone flat, maybe just as annoyed with that last sentence as I am. Probably even more so.

◎ ◎ ◎

Why is there a pink carseat in the passengers seat? I mean, I’m not the tallest, but I’m definitely not that tiny. I look around us, only to see no member of the crew around. This is great. I want to take the seat out, because I don’t want to sit on it, but it’s securely fastened and only with a different set of keys, I can undo it.

And of course I don’t have that.

I really regret being here.

However, I still sit on the carseat, because I don’t want to sit in the back because I’ll get carsick and when I see Henry’s cocked eyebrows and a poorly hidden smirk, I simply say: ‘Don’t.’

Okay, maybe I do understand why they put me on a carseat, because this man looks so enormous and otherwise I’m simply non existent. He starts the car and simply drives off. I don’t know whether or not I should say something to him, because I feel like we should talk. I mean, that’s why the camera’s are here right?

‘What is your newest movie about?’ Henry asks.

‘About a woman escaping from her past and she moves to Japan, when one day an old friend becomes her new manager,’ I say.

‘Romantic comedy?’

‘Of course.’

He nods. ‘You don’t get tired of doing those?’ he asks.

Yes, I do get a bit tired of them, but there are two things: for starters, just like those romance books (that I would buy my mom one for her birthday every year, because I knew how much she loved those), romantic comedies sell really good. And no one wants me for something else. I feel like directors don’t trust me with big roles, like Rose in Titanic or someone else major. Besides, I’m Asian American, when was the last time one of us got a major part in a movie that’s not a romantic comedy?

But I don’t want to seem ungrateful and it’s a nice stream of money coming in every time and that’s basically all I want.

‘No,’ I say. ‘It’s okay. You shot something new… new movie… Right?’ For fuck sake, Adelaide, you were doing so well.

‘I did, actually,’ he says. ‘It’s something I’m very excited for. It’s more of a dramatical part.’ I listen to Henry, as he is talking about this movie. How he plays a single dad, trying to figure out this parenting part with his daughter, when his brother and sister-in-law pass away and he has to take in four monsters of boys in his house. The way he talks about this, I notice a shimmer in his eyes. ‘I’m sorry,’ he apologizes. ‘I let myself go there for a second. It’s just I’m really excited about this movie.’

‘No, I get it,’ I say, as I look out of the window. I let out a deep sigh, as we drive over the sandy roads. Before I can say something else (as if I knew what), Henry hits the break and like the cliches in the movies, he holds out his arm in front of me, as the car comes to a halt.

There are four dogs and one owner on the road and the man screams something in Italian to us. Clearly we were supposed to stop for him. ‘Shit, sorry,’ Henry mumbles, as if the man could hear that.

His warm hand dropped to my bare thigh and with my pointer finger I tap him on the back of his hand. ‘Excuse me,’ I say.

‘Oh no, terrible sorry,’ he says quickly, retracting his hand. ‘What do you think the cottage will look like?’ Henry asks, when he pulled up again, not driving as fast as he did before.

Shrugging I play with my water bottle. ‘I don’t know, but I think I know one thing.’

It takes me a while before I can get the words out of my mouth, but Henry doesn’t force me to say anything, by asking something like: ‘Care to let me in?’ He actually lets me find the words and it feels nice not to be rushed into saying something.

‘I bet there is one bed that is large and comfortable. However, there is also one uncomfortable couch, too small for you. So people want to see whether or not you are a… gentleman and offer to sleep on the couch.’

‘You think?’ he asks frowning. ‘A bit far fetched, don’t you think?’

When we arrive at the tiny cottage, we walk inside. It’s nice decorated, warm colors mixed with nice hints of different pastel colors. My eye falls on the very uncomfortable looking couch that is pretty tiny if Henry is supposed to be sprawled out on that, but we don’t know what the rest looks like.

After a small tour through the house, we have come to the conclusion that there is indeed only one bed. I look over my shoulder, my eyes meeting Henry’s. ‘See?’

Taglist: @thelastsock // @jolly-polly // @henrythickcavill // @maan24 // @diegos-butt / @agniavateira //

#henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill #henry cavill x oc #henry cavill fanfic #the alluring charm of henry cavill #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill x actress #henry cavill x adelaide park

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mannatea · 3 years

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100daysofwriting: Day 4, Motivation Part III

Prompts courtesy of @the-wip-project!

Day 4: Thinking back to the motivation(s) you defined yesterday, what is your character’s goal (or goals) and what conflict(s) prevents them from getting to that? In short: Define the GMC for your characters.

I like the concept of GMC (Goal, Motivation, Conflict), but I think it’s misleading to imagine that every character you ever write will even have a goal—at least to start.

This is kind of where fiction separates from reality; in the real world, you’ll oftentimes notice that other people don’t have goals, at least not the sort you’d expect to see in a novel (you know, those huge overarching life-changing reach-for-the-stars kind of things). Realism can be fun in fiction, of course, particularly in comedy/humor genres (your main character’s only longterm goal is to finish painting the living room but Life Keeps Getting in the Way), but in most engaging stories you’ll find that most of the characters have goals that are “bigger” than they are.

Anyway, the “main” character in my novelization is an aspiring/new teacher, so her goal is of course to teach, specifically in the west in 1910 where more teachers are needed. Her motivation? Inspiring and guiding children...the usual sappy new-teacher schmuck. The conflict is...that she’s rich? (I didn’t pick this; remember, it’s a novelization.) I guess more accurately, her family is wealthy and that’s how she got her teaching license. But she’s a little...too educated for Alberta, Canada in 1910. You can see where she might not fit in with coal miners and their families.

To make things worse, the post she accepted is for a town that recently lost a big chunk of their adult male population in a mining accident. Now imagine trying to hold the attention of a bunch of kids who are struggling to understand this loss. Many of the kids are still grieving, some are barely getting enough food now that the only income in their family has dried up, and still others are having to quit school to go into the mines themselves because their family needs them to.

And so, at a certain point her goal “to teach and inspire” sort of shifts into “give them a good enough education they have options they never would have gotten otherwise.”

There’s one episode of the TV show in particular that I thought was really good: our main character, Elizabeth, ends up realizing a boy in her class has dyslexia. Being wealthy she’s had exposure to this information (newest teaching methods and all that) and she has Connections, which she uses to get more information/study material. The boy’s father wants him to quit and go into the mine because he believes his son will never learn to read/he’s hopeless, but our heroine comes up with a way to help this young man learn in a way that makes sense to him. It is revealed at the end of the episode that the reason the boy’s father was so adamant that his son give up was because he himself had the same disability and his teacher gave up on him (and he didn’t want his son to feel that same level of shame/embarrassment).

I mean, I did not come up with any of these things myself, but transferring those from a TV script type of format into a novel format leaves room for all kinds of extra information/a better exploration of Elizabeth’s thought process.

Elizabeth isn’t my favorite character by any means, but she has the most clearly-defined goals of all the characters (product of being the main character, I guess), and it’s pretty interesting to see her goals shift as she learns to fit in and gain the trust of others.

I’d say most of the other characters on the show have goals that are much quieter or more contained: a lot of the widows have to decide what to do now that they’ve lost their husbands. Cat’s husband left her with a gambling debt she has to figure out how to pay back. Mary has to move on or risk being unable to care for her son. Rosaleen is struggling with the trauma of her father’s death because the day of the accident was the one day she forgot to bring him his lunch. Jack is a Mountie whose goals are pretty straightforward (looking into the mining accident & finding out how to get out of his hellish little town and get a Good Posting) and Bill is a forensic investigator whose goals are always Pressing (was the mining accident really an accident?). We also end up getting a pastor who is running from his past, an accountant who has gotten tangled up in a legal scandal, a nurse who falls in love with the small town life and her work being Meaningful/Impactful, a surgeon who is running from a tragic accident himself, a woman lost in grief after the death of her son, and so many other interesting and colorful characters.

And of course THEY ARE ALL WONDERFUL (and I’m partial to the side characters anyway), but most of their goals are not what I would consider “main character material”—just because by default most of them are very realistically just trying to get through another day, while Elizabeth manages to have these long-term goals of educating and making the lives of the children in this town better.

#long post #100daysofwriting #thoughts about writing #i know i know i should shut the fuuuck up lmaooo

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ajokeformur-ray · 4 years

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Hey! This is my first ask! There’s something that I’ve been curious about. I know it might be kind of a controversial topic, but I wanted to get your thoughts on it. It’s kind of hinted in the movie that Arthur wants to be free from his mom because taking care of her takes a lot out of him. Assuming she isn’t like Penny (she cares about him, tries to help him if she can), how do you think Arthur would feel about his significant other having a disability? How do you think he would help her not feel guilty for needing help with some things? It’s okay if you don’t feel comfortable answering I understand. Thanks!

Hello, darling!💝

This isn’t a controversial topic at all, in my opinion, though I will say that this question kept me company in the shower this morning because I spent about an hour digesting your ask before I finally took a break from university work to answer it!🥰❤ I’m honoured that you’re wanting my thoughts on this and I hope I can satisfy your curiosity!💖 I genuinely adore receiving asks like this!💘

I definitely agree that Arthur wants to be free from his mum. There’s a lot of... thinly veiled impatience when he’s interacting with her. The closest we get to seeing this (before the scene in which he murders her) is when he sighs and says, “yes, mother” during the scene when Thomas Wayne is on the television. His interactions with her suggest that every conversation they have throughout the canon is one which he’s heard before. He’s said all the same things before and he’s barely invested in their conversations because of this. Penny was, in my opinion, a victim too, but that doesn’t mean that the way she treated Arthur was ever even slightly justified. They were both victims but Arthur most definitely wanted her gone. He hated her long before he ever decided to kill her. That scene where he stands in front of the window basking in the sunlight has always reminded me of shackles being removed; he’s freed himself from her (and no, this does not mean that I condone his committing matricide. I understand it and I can empathise with his actions, but that doesn’t mean I agree with it or condone it) but it took violence to do so.

Any partner of Arthur’s would have to be very patient with him. In some ways, too, they would occasionally be a teacher to him because he doesn’t understand social cues very well. He also displays problematic behaviours (i.e. stalking, such as what we see with Sophie) because of this, though he doesn’t mean any harm. He’s just curious. Arthur is not stupid, I want to be clear, but as a result of his social isolation and the fact that no one ever really bothered to teach him these things when he was a child, he definitely lacks the knowledge of social cues which his partner may take for granted.

This then brings me to the core of your ask, which I’ve copied into the appropriate places for ease of reading:

1) how do you think Arthur would feel about his significant other having a disability?

Arthur was obviously taught from a very young age to be someone who could run a household. This is where details get a bit fuzzy for me so I would love to hear others’ thoughts, but I know that Todd stated that Arthur was in and out of Arkham for much of his life and that he had been taking care of Penny for eight months from the start of canon, so I’m not too sure as to why he would have needed to drop out of high school during tenth grade, but I’m going to safely assume that Penny had something to do with it.

Arthur is very much a natural caregiver and he did everything he could for Penny. He put his life on hold for her and she was, in my view, holding him down and holding him back from making his own way in life. Despite his growing contempt for his mother, he did everything that he could for her, to take care of her. She was his entire life right up until the moment he killed her, so for Arthur to have an S/O who loves him just as much as he loves them, he would thrive. He is naturally empathetic and vastly emotionally intelligent and the most dangerous thing about him is the fact that many people underestimate him. This is always shown to be a fatal mistake, and I don’t think Arthur would be all that bothered that his S/O has a disability.

I don’t mean that he would be apathetic towards his S/O for having a disability, I don’t mean that he wouldn’t care, because he absolutely would. What I mean to say is that Arthur would accept his S/O wholeheartedly. He would love them no matter what and there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for them if it was within his power to do so. There is a page in his journal which speaks of his “one and only person who understands me”, someone who would be “in my space but not all alone”, so he would be utterly devoted to his S/O. He would take as best care of them as he could even around his eighty - ninety hour work weeks, his nights at Pogo’s and the like, and I will assume that he would receive the same treatment in kind to the best of his S/O’s ability.

If there was anything about his S/O’s disability which Arthur was unfamiliar with or if he didn’t know what to do in certain situations or how to help, then I can see long conversations which go deep into the night. Due to his insomnia and late comings-in, Arthur would most likely be awake anyway and who better to learn from then his S/O about how he can help them? If there’s anything he’s too shy to ask about, he may well write it down for later and ask Dr. Kane or even go to Arkham to ask one of the attendants there to get some more information. Perhaps, if he was desperate, he would go to the library and do some research of his own and then take notes in his journal. He would be meticulous in his approach and it would probably get a bit overwhelming for his S/O because Arthur would do everything he could to learn as much as he could as fast as he could.

In a healthy relationship where he is loved and cared for just as much as he loves and cares for his S/O, Arthur would blossom and flourish and though nothing can be cured or fixed with love (just as there’s nothing romantic about falling apart), his life would be just a little easier with his S/O by his side.

2) How do you think he would help her not feel guilty for needing help with some things?

I think that Arthur would have a very open and candid discussion with his S/O about why they were feeling that way. If they couldn’t communicate verbally then Arthur would find some kind of way to communicate with them, preferably by learning from his S/O themselves. He wouldn’t be perfect right away and it would be a slow learning process for both himself and his S/O (because Arthur’s disabled too), but I do think that Arthur would try again and again. It’s just like he says in his journal - step step step...

He would want to know why they felt guilty for needing help with some things and I can imagine him being a little upset that they even felt guilty in the first place, though I’m sure he would feel that way sometimes, too. He would think on what they said and listen to them and Arthur would most likely be quiet for several moments after they’ve finished communicating their feelings to him while he digests what he’s been told. A logical approach would seem best, I think: he would share his own experiences in this with his S/O and point out that there are things which he needs help with, too (this is where the S/O’s occasional teaching role comes in, among other things). Arthur would use this to tell his S/O that both of them need help with some things and that’s okay - what matters is that they have each other. He would reiterate his love for his S/O and though it wouldn’t always be sunshine and rainbows (obviously; no relationship is like this and anyone who says otherwise is lying or hiding something, in my view), both he and his S/O would always do their best.

It’s important to remember that “best” is not a set ideal. It is something which changes day by day and it’s influenced by one’s mood and the circumstances and situations at hand. As such, some days Arthur would do more for his S/O than they can do for him, and other days this would be the other way around. That’s okay! Sometimes relationships are more 20% - 80% than 50-50 and as long as there are days when this is switched, it’s still a healthy relationship. The bottom line is that Arthur would do what he could with what he had at hand to alleviate his S/O’s guilt and he would expect the same for when he feels guilty. It would be hard work, every kind of relationship is, but so long as the love’s there (and it is), then difficulties can be overcome. Arthur would remain at his one and only’s side and he wouldn’t ever want to leave, no matter what.

These are all of my thoughts on this topic!💜There’s more to say but this is all I can think of for now; I may make additions in reblogs and I would love to hear people’s thoughts on this!💙Thank you so much for sending this in, angel, and I hope that you’re having a lovely day! I’m sending you strength and love.🥰🤗💛

#nonnie #arthur fleck #joker 2019 #arthur fleck x reader #joker 2019 x reader

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leebrontide · 4 years

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A true, 30 year, tropetastic, queer love story. (Part 1)

Pls open the link if you'd like to read a 30 year, trope-tastic true queer romance featuring pining, instalove, swords, childhood-friends-to-lovers and a happy ending.

We THINK the story begins in 1991. We know it starts at theatre day-camp for kids, a summer when we were both in elementary school.

The earliest memories are vague- I remembered a super cool kid from the older class with dark eyes who I was desperate to eat lunch with every day.

It's taken us years to reconstruct the timeline. We have figured out I did go to her house outside of camp that first year, because I remember her bird that tried to bite me. We can only guess at years based on camp themes.

Because we were little kids. I was 7. So we lost touch.

But here's the thing- we kept going to the same camp. She was always in a class ahead of me, because I'm a year and a half younger.

And every year- apparently without remembering we'd met before? We became summer best friends. Drawn together over and over.

But, being disorganized kids in a world of lesser tech, every year, when camp ended, we lost phone numbers- we lived a good 30 minutes away from each other, so I have to imagine our parent's weren't exactly heartbroken at the loss. It was a lot of driving.

In 4th grade, when I was 9, I made a new best friend, named Meredith. My parents heartily recommended the summer theatre camp to hers, and she was sent with me, the next year.

She, was older than me, so she was in Ty's class. & having excellent taste, also made friends with her.

The three of us played together all summer.

Then came the fall, and the inevitable lost contact. I remember being sad about that much more clearly, that year.

BUT, the big change happened when I was 10.

Again, sent to camp. Again, my friend Meredith was there to.

At lunch, I found them playing together. I went to introduce myself to the obviously cool older girl.

For some reason I tried to shake her hand? Little weirdo.

Ty reacts to me the same way- oh hey! Cool new person! I want to be friends!

Meredith looks at us both like we're out of our minds.

"You know each other. We played all last summer."

And suddenly, the spell of childhood amnesia was broken.

I DID know her. We were FRIENDS.

We HAD BEEN FRIENDS for years.

She LIKED ME.

SHE LIKED ME.

(love with memory disabilities is a trip, folks. And her lil ADHD kid brain was struggling right alongside mine)

We were elated.

But that wasn't the last shock to my little 10 year old heart that 5 week summer camp would bring.

Meredith was, and is, a poet. Somehow she had a habit, at 11 years old, of making up poems about people's eyes.

Weird stuff. I remember a pair of green eyes being compared to a deep sea, were the bones of drunken drowned sailors floated.

Very Anne of Green Gables.

And- I remember this part with perfect clarity. She turned to me and said, do you know who has pretty eyes? Ty.

We were crossing the stage, Ty was carrying a box of props like 15 feet ahead of us.

I said "does she?"

And then, ever the romantic I screamed "HEY TY TURN AROUND I WANNA SEE SOMETHING!"

She did.

And for the first time, I looked into the dark eyes I'd been drawn to for all those years, and saw them anew.

There's a reason cupid's supposed to have arrows.

I swear to you that this is true. It felt like an actual blow to my chest. Like a physical blow.

I was stunned. My little heart was hammering out of control.

I have no idea what I said, or did, or looked like after that.

But I figured out pretty quickly what that was. It was not subtle, even to a prepubescent nearly 6th grader.

But I was a pragmatic little almost-6th-grader.

This was a crush. Middle schoolers have crushes.

And they're supposed to fade over time.

I don't remember if I was worried that my crush was on a girl. I just remember the certainty that this was just a child's crush, and therefor nothing that would last or cause problems.

And when fall came, I lost her number again.

But this time I was devastated.

But, this time a hero saved the day! Meredith, sweet, wonderful, more-organized-than-either-of-us Meredith, still had the number.

And this time, I held on to it.

We became year round besties.

For the first year of adoring her year-round, I didn't worry about my little crush. It'd go away in time.

By 7th grade, it started to be a problem.

We were having sleep overs, and I started to feel guilty about how much I wanted to look at her and cuddle her all the time.

I don't think I told anyone right away. But Meredith was always the smartest of us three.

She's the one who proposed we play "wedding". She presided over the ceremony herself, and her little sister was our wedding photographer.

Oddly, even though I didn't know about this photo till years later, this is a game both of us remember playing.

It meant... something.

Image

I started to feel guilty. We were having sleep overs, talking every day on the phone. I wanted to look at her all the time- I wanted to be with her all the time. I wanted to kiss her, and started to realize she might be bothered by that.

I never wanted to hide anything from her.

So, I confessed my love. I didn't think of this as being especially radical or brave, but in retrospect, I'm impressed by 12 year old Lee's behavior.

She smiled brightly, and said she loved me to!

As her best friend.

I clarified my position.

She repeated that she loved me as her very best friend.

And these feelings were a bit scary and BIG, so that was all good. She still wanted to hang out all the time. Life was good.

By 8th grade, I was starting to worry. The crush hadn't worn off yet. Everyone told me these things wore off.

But I was more in love with her than ever.

And when Meredith moved to Nashville, we got even closer.

We joined the MN sword club. Made new friends. In the way of these things, a whole lot of them turned out to be some evolving variety of queer. Friends started coming out.

I barely needed to, my crush was horrifyingly obvious to all our friends.

Image

I promised you swords. The swords don't feature prominently, but the club was a major connection for us for years, and this detail has always struck me.

I'm not an especially good fencer. Especially then. I was constructed out of raw spaghetti noodles and moved like creaky budget claymation most of the time. I was calculating, but slow.

She was fast, and brash, and more skilled than me. She eventually beat some nationally recognized fencers. We called her "fiery Tybalt" because we're a bunch of big ol nerds who wanted to sound smart. She eventually took her name from that nickname.

Even at only 5ft tall, she should have beaten me handily and reliably. She could hold her own against much better fencers.

But we actually got BANNED from sparring together, because we were so evenly matched we could never get enough points for a win.

My one and only expertise in fencing was knowing her. But she knew me just as well, so there was a stalemate.

Our friends laughed at us.

I confessed my love again in 8th grade.

And 9th.

10th.

11th.

I never wanted to lie to her. It was important to me that she knew what I was thinking and feeling, but it was also important that I not burden her with it.

She always gave me the same answer. She loved me. She loved me SO MUCH.

What a shame she was straight.

Now, readers, let me remind you we're looking at two queer kids in the 90s at this point.

There were pressures at play.

When I was in 11th grade, she left for college. And she was far enough away that long distance calls were expensive. I couldn't call her every day.

What I remember most about senior year was being depressed and lonely.

But also, that after years of my family despairing of my ever learning to type, and eventually getting me the (then very expensive) dragon speech-to-type program so I could type my homework and not fail school- my contact with her was suddenly all in text. AOL messenger.

People have commented at all my workplaces about my typing speed. I type 120 words per minute now.

Specifically because it was the only way to talk to her most days.

I went to college the following year. We both got boyfriends. Both nice boys who liked and admired us.

BOTH broke up with us because we so obviously preferred each other over them. To an embarrassing degree.

The boy I was dating- bless him he only lasted 3 months- specifically told me "if I go out with you any more I'm going to fall in love with you. And you're in love with her."

Slick bastard.

He was right tho.

I couldn't be mad at him.

But this is when I started to really panic.

It'd been 6 years. My first crush was still absolutely roaring. Nobody else came close to tempting me.

And nobody else wanted to, when it became obvious they couldn't compete with her.

And she was still my best friend, so of course I told her. I told her I was miserable, because I was going to be single forever because nobody else would want me, because I was so in love with her.

She felt bad. She loved me so much. So much she'd been dumped to.

Such a shame she was straight.

I wouldn't find out till much later that that conversation had started something on her side, that, for once, she knew to keep from me.

She spent the next 6 months in intense contemplation.

She DID prefer me to all the other boys (and girls) who were chasing her in college.

And there were a lot of them.

She did think I was pretty, and she did love me. And she did want to be with me forever.

She'd been as dedicated to me as I was to her through this whole time. As caring, as invested, as, frankly, obsessed. Everyone could see it.

But she wasn't straight. She was bi.

And ace.

We wouldn't learn that word for many more years. All she knew was that the story of falling in love didn't match the love she was feeling.

But then she realized- she'd never felt the feelings she was "supposed" to feel for her boyfriend, either. She was not more attracted to him than to me. And he was a good looking guy. A catch by most any standard.

And she also hadn't loved him.

But she did love me.

So, my sophomore year of college (her junior year), we were preparing our trip to the Renaissance festival. A bunch of her friends were driving into town for it, and we'd see each other again at last. (we'd been back at school like 2 weeks, so naturally were desperate to meet up)

I am still flabbergasted as the next series of events.

She asked me out. On AOL instant messenger. After over 7 years of my pining, and adoration. After 7 years of choosing the pain of being near her and not being able to kiss her, over the desolation of not having her beside me

She very logically explained her reasoning.

I had a meltdown.

My poor room mate walked into our room to find me crying and throwing things at the computer screen.

I was convinced she was offering to date me because she felt bad for me. Because she loved me and wanted me to stop hurting and feeling alone.

So I turned her down.

That, friends, was HARD. REALLY HARD.

Thankfully, she was having none of it. She insisted it only made sense for us to date. I tried to stay firm. I refused repeatedly, all in that damned AOL messenger.

We reached a compromise- one date, at the Ren Fest, as a test.

And if it failed we'd never speak of it again.

Because the prospect of dating and breaking up was terrifying to us both.

If we were going to be together, we'd be defacto engaged. Neither of us could tolerate breaking up.

The weekend came- my college friends all knew, and accompanied me, made sure I was decked out in the best fair garb we could cobble together.

She drove up with her friends- including the ex- who had no idea what was happening. She had on her finest cape & boots & a swishy dress.

We could not manage to be alone together. Like it was a proper rom-com ridiculousness. All damn day.

But at least we were together.

She came back to my dorm that night, to spend the night, and drive back the next day.

Shout out to my room mate who stayed at her boyfriend's house that night. Love you, Lindsay.

We finally managed to kiss.

She abruptly decided kissing wasn't some weird thing people only pretended to like because it was normal, and was in fact an amazing wonderful thing we should do frequently.

I don't actually remember us deciding that the experiment was successful, and we'd be a romantic couple from then on.

Pretty sure the kissing melted my brain.

It was not like kissing my old boyfriend at all.

She went back to college the next day.

I do remember, that, MORE THAN ONCE, I nervously asked my roomy if this had all really happened. I was truly and genuinely concerned that I'd dreamed or fantasized the whole thing. I'd done both enough times before.

I couldn't just ask outright so I'd say something like. "Hey did anything- important happen yesterday?"

And she'd look at me like I was speaking some alien language, and tell me I was dating Ty now.

I wandered around in a dream-like stupor for a WEEK.

This is a good place to stop for now. More tonight. I need to go snuggle my baby and help my wife with lunch. 💖

Popping in briefly for the next installment.

All our friends knew immediately. Some of them- the newer ones, were confused because they had assumed we were always dating, on account of how blatantly in love we were all the damn time.

We decided tho, to hold off on telling our families. We decided to date a year first, to show that it was serious, and that we meant it.

It was a good year, full of the kind of pining that is regularly rewarded by happy weekends and spring breaks and summers.

The next august, before we went back to school, we each sat down our own parents. Hers were sort of "yeah ok whatever." I was not there for that conversation.

I went to my favorite restaurant with my own parents, and told them I was seeing someone. Dad was enthused. Wanted to meet him.

Well. I said. You have.

Because it's Ty.

#gay love #gay romance #romance tropes #ace love #nonbinary romance #romance tropes tropes love #coming out day 2020

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neon-green-reagent · 4 years

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No one has to read this, but I’m having a hard time, and I had to get it out.

In August of 2020, during a pandemic, I moved to a whole new state. I’m not the only person who did this. I was trying to start my life over after losing my brother and my mother two months apart in 2019. I was working a dead-end job barely making ends meet. I was on the verge of getting kicked out of my house. I jsut couldn’t make anything work there. I moved to a place where I was told there was opportunity and better housing and so on. I moved in with my best friend of twenty-five years with my niece in tow. I was told everything would be fine.

It hasn’t been. Pandemic, firstly. I knew that would be a challenge, but I was basically flat out lied to by my best friend about the impact the pandemic had on this town. How many things were completely upside down and how poorly it was all dealt with. She was so positive as to completely ignore how much negativity we would be up against and had me believing there was nothing to worry about at all. That’s just for starters.

I have generalized anxiety disorder, panic disorder, and depression. When I got here, a lot of things I didn’t expect hit me at once. A lot of reactions to things that surprised me. A lot of trauma I’d suppressed. A lot of panic welled up. Grief felt more real no longer being where my family had lived. I haven’t acclimated well.

And now because I haven’t gotten on my feet at the speed she felt I should I have, I’m a problem. I’m in the way. Her fiance and her mother both have decided they don’t want to hear anything about my mental illness anymore. I have been told I’m faking, I’m manipulative, I’m a liar, and I’m being enabled by my best friend. After being told how much help I’d receive, I’ve gotten almost none, and I’m now being told that they want me to stop bitching and get out. I have been told how little they think of me over and over, so my sense of self worth is at an all time low.

It gets better. My niece is mentally disabled. We’re working on getting her assistance, but if you’ve been through this, you know how slow it is. I also want more testing for her. She was found to have learning disabilities in school, but I know she has trauma and other issues that haven’t been dealt with. I want her to get therapy and job training and all the good things she needs. She finds it very hard to focus. She has a poor memory. She makes mistakes other people might not because of these issues.

Case in point. She was flushing makeup wipes and paper towels down the toilet. For months we’ve been calling plumbers and dealing with the toilet backing up and things not draining. Just this week, we discovered the problem and understood it was my niece. I told them I’d deal with it. Had a long talk with her. I know how to deal with her, how to make her understand, without being hurtful. I considered it done.

Last night, it clogged again. I paid for a plumber to come and snake the pipes again. They found more stuff in there. My assumption is the clog was worse than we thought. My best friend’s fiance assumed my niece was still flushing things she shouldn’t have been RIGHT after I’d talked to her about, which I know is not so. I wasn’t there for this, but apparently, he picked up one of these paper towels that was pulled from the drain with a stick, brought it inside, and confronted her with it. I was told he didn’t yell, but a big man confronting a small woman, that will never feel less than threatening.

And I was right. She was reminded of the way her abusive mother used to treat her and sobbed telling me how much it hurt her. So I got angry. I’m the only family she has left, and I’m very protective of her. I demanded he not be near her again. He doesn’t live in this house, only visits, and I asked he stay at his own home full time instead of coming here. Well, my best friend told her mother. Who let me know in no uncertain terms I’m not allowed to make demands of any kind. I can just move out if I have a problem. He has not apologized and isn’t going to, because he thinks what he did, triggering a disabled person with a history of emotional abuse, was right and justified.

So. Every couple of weeks, something like this happens. Some kind of fight. Some kind of blow against me or my niece. And I’m told it’s not them, it’s me. I’m the problem. I’m the one who needs fixing. I don’t know what to do really. I guess most people would ask for money, or a new place to live, but I’ve never been good at accepting charity. Which is why when they accuse me of wanting something for nothing, it hurts so much. That couldn’t be less true of me, but I can’t change anyone’s mind. I am working, but it’s not enough to make it on my own, and it feels like I can never do enough for them.

I just needed to share. I guess I need to feel seen. And to hear, “that’s not fair.”

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uzumaki-rebellion · 4 years

Text

“Black Boys Bloom Thorns First: Volume 2, Chapter 29″

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"Oh my, time heals all but you outta time now (Now) Judge gotta watch us from the clock tower (True) Lil' tear gas cleared the whole place out I'll be back with the hazmat for the next round We was tryin' to protest, then the fires broke out Look out for the secret agents, they be planted in the crowd Said, "It's civil unrest," but you sleep so sound Like you don't hear the screams when we catchin' beatdowns Stayin' quiet when they killin' niggas, but you speak loud When we ride, got opinions comin' from a place of privilege…"

"Lockdown"-- Anderson.Paak

Califia stood before the march organizers and read off the things the group wanted to pass along to other protestors. Erik sat next to her on a chair and listened to her tick off each item.

"People should bring protective gear if they can. Goggles or sunglasses for pepper spray. If they have access, they can use the heavier gear for tear gas. Masks or bandannas for the face. Milk and water is good to have on hand to flush out the eyes if tear gas is used. Tattoos and other identifiable markings need to be covered. They should wear plain clothing or gear that doesn't have identifiable brands. A woman was arrested in the States because the Feds were able to trace a T-shirt she bought online at a specialty site. We have advised everyone to bring extra t-shirts and other clothing to switch out so they can disappear if surveillance photos are taken and the streets get hot. Confusing the enemy is the name of the game. We learned a lot from Hong Kong protestors in the past. Phones need to have GPS turned off and if possible, passcodes placed on them in case they are confiscated. No sharing selfies or uploading images…"

The list was long and her fellow organizers nodded in agreement with all the actionable items she shared.

Soliel stood next to her and read off her list of protest roles that would be fed out online to give everyone interested an opportunity to participate, especially those with disabilities and even those who wanted to march but were afraid of losing their jobs or being harassed by their own families.

"As long as we all fight in our own way, we can move this city and this country forward. The whole world. We expect the state to use whatever tools they can to make us look bad, so we must squash any groups that try to disrupt our peaceful march. There will be plants among us. We know this. But we can't allow them to bait us into a situation that would allow them to use violence against us. That is what they want. We'll have our shield soldiers briefed on how to defend us if the federals act out. Our flag bearers are young and move fast, so we will be made aware as soon as possible when the federals arrive in various locations. We have range soldiers, fire squads, and barricaders trained to act. There will be medics available, and as long as we follow our plans, we will have a safe and successful march," Soliel said.

Califia's chest eased with the tightness she had after talking with Erik. He listened on the chair and even asked a few questions about their safety if the police there took them to jail. They had bond pledges ready and lawyers on stand-by, but they hoped it wouldn't come to that.

When the meeting broke up, she walked outside to check on N'Jobu, Bakari and Besouro who opted to stand watch outside. As the organizers left their home, N'Jobu walked up and down the street. She worried that the spies sent to watch their house would take pictures of him, but he assured her that his kimoyo beads would mess up their tech. He planned on using a protective shield on her when they marched.

Besouro said goodnight, and her father and Bakari turned in for the night. She sat outside with N'Jobu and Erik.

"You feel comfortable?" N'Jobu asked her, tossing his arm around her shoulder.

"Yeah. I think we have it all down. The people just have to show up."

"How are you feeling?"

Looking into his eyes, she saw worry in them.

"Quiet…um…settled I guess. It's like the feeling I get when I used to dance at school. You rehearse and practice and understand your role, and now it just comes down to the performance. You hope things go well."

"They will," Erik said.

He sat on the small step that led up onto their tiny porch.

"Did we forget anything in there?" Califia asked, giving her son a smile.

"You had it all covered, Mom. Good job."

"Thank you."

His eyes glanced around the street. Then rested on N'Jobu.

"Baba, what's the matter?"

"Nothing. Just thinking about the march and us returning home."

Erik walked over to N'Jobu and rested his arms around his father's shoulders.

"I like having you around like this all the time. It's been fun here," Erik said.

N'Jobu stroked Erik's hands.

"I've enjoyed myself too, Son. What will you and Marisol do while we are at the march?"

"We'll watch it online, and then make dumplings with Auntie probably. She promised to make them on Saturday."

"Don't eat too many, you always get bad gas," Califia said.

"No, I don't—"

"You don't have to smell yourself when you go to sleep and start ripping bombs," she said rolling her eyes.

"Slander!" Erik said pushing on her arm. She pushed him back.

Down the street someone put on music in their home and Erik wiggled his hips and did a couple of backflips. Tapping his father's knees to get him to play, Erik hopped back from the porch to give N'Jobu room.

N'Jobu slid off his shoes and did an assertive swagger step that circled Erik. The boy's eyes kept watch on his father's hands, expecting the attack to come for his chest and not his feet. Erik stayed on the balls of his own bare feet, hopping up and down each time N'Jobu passed behind him. N'Jobu lunged forward but dropped to his feet tricking Erik into using his hands to go for his father's face. The moment Erik did that, N'Jobu cartwheeled into a side handstand using his legs to knocked Erik aside.

"Clever!" Erik shouted, hooking his fingers and jabbing N'Jobu with hard hits into his thighs. Their motion was fluid, and N'Jobu didn't allow it to move too fast.

"Alright little warrior, time for bed," Califia said.

Erik gave his father a hug.

"If you take a shower, try not to make too much noise, okay? Grandpop is having a hard time sleeping, so any noise keeps him up," she said.

"Okay. Night."

She kissed his cheek and watched him enter the house. The street was quiet then, and there were no more spies that they could see watching their home. The unmarked cars were gone.

Califia sat next to N'Jobu on the sturdy wooden chairs they propped out on the porch. Life felt good in that moment. She reached out and held his hand.

"When we have the vibranium, people can be protected from all police. All types of violence. We can create sources of energy that will lower the cost of living for everyone. People can really live. Sit on their porch and just watch the stars at night with their families and not worry about bills, or putting food on the table," N'Jobu said.

He cradled her fingers and kissed them. Califia stared into his eyes. She believed every word he said because the conviction in them was infectious. She had so many plans for when they began to remake the world. She wished Lia was alive to participate in shaping the future.

"Free education for all at any level. And that education will be equitable in quality everywhere. We can transform healthcare and the education of doctors and nurses on what true health and healing is. No more fossil fuels corroding the earth. People can work at what makes them happy, like my people at home. Wakanda isn't perfect, but we know how to run a society that treats people like humans and not capital gains."

She kissed his lips.

"What was that for?" he asked with a teasing quality in his voice.

"All that sounds so sexy coming from your mouth."

"This mouth right here?" he said pointing to his lips.

"Yeah."

"Are you sure?"

"Let me test it again and see."

She climbed onto his lap and he held her sideways. Lowering her head, she licked his lips then suckled his top lip before going full open-mouthed kissing with him. His hand slid up and down her back and she felt a little something growing under her.

"We should take this to the bedroom," he whispered rubbing on her backside.

"We can't. Erik's sleeping in there, remember? Grandpop has his bed—"

"And Bakari's on the couch…yeah…that is a problem," he sighed.

They kissed longer, and when their necks began to shift left and right as their passion grew, N'Jobu broke away from her wet mouth. They didn't have a car, and the house was so small inside, they would wake up everyone even if they tried to sneak into the bathroom or kitchen.

N'Jobu's eyes darted to and fro, and then he had her lift up.

"What are you doing…babe…no…"

His jeans slid down to his thighs.

"Pull down your jeans, girl."

His erection was hot against her naked thigh. Dragging his fingers up and down her slit, he teased out her wetness.

"It just looks like your sitting on my lap," he whispered. His tone had gone heavy. He was ready.

She couldn't resist and sat down on his length and when she felt his balls, a groan escaped her lips and he covered her mouth.

"Shh, c'mon now. Let's pretend we're back in your grandmother's living room. You know how hot you get when you have to be quiet. Mmmm…shit…Califia…see, you do remember what that was like. Riding my dick. Up and down. Just like that. Give me what I want Califia. I'm your throne…I'm your throne…fuck!"

Califia shifted her weight and let it drop on his lap, allowing his dick to penetrate her deeper. He had her at his mercy, but she switched that up quickly.

"You like that Your Highness?"

His eyes grew big then narrowed with lust. This man. That royalty talk made him grow even stiffer. She rotated her hips in slow agonizing circles as she kept direct eye contact with him, biting her lip and pouting whenever he said her name in submissive whispers.

"You like that Your Highness?"

His head tilted back and his lust-filled eyes gazed up at the heavens filled with stars. She rocked forward and back letting his dick hit her walls with a different energy in the movement.

"I love it!" he gasped clutching at her covered breast.

She began a slow calculated bounce and his right thigh shook under her.

"Dammit!" he cried out while burying his face in her neck, gripping the skin there with his teeth.

"Bite me," she panted, wanting those gold panther teeth of his to dig into her throat and make her feel drunk with his power to weaken her flesh.

His loving never got old or boring or repetitive. N'Jobu's dick aged like fine ebony wine and he could still bring tears to her eyes when they made love. The tasty fucking he was giving her on the porch had her eyes swimming in water already.

"Fuck me Prince N'Jobu."

She whimpered when his eyes fell shut and he held her down on his lap so he could thrust up into her. She leaned forward again to adjust the side angle he had her in and allowed him to slam his dick into her with a faster rhythm. Her cheeks began to clap loudly and she worried that her family inside could hear it. N'Jobu gave no care to whoever heard him. He was inside his woman. That's all that mattered.

"Your Highness, fuck me harder!" she blurted out in a rush of desperate air.

He gave out a loud moan that he couldn't hold back, and now her loud ass cheeks were joined by the sound of her wet pussy being stirred like creamy cake batter. She didn't even have to play with her clit to keep it stimulated, the side fucking tugged on her stiff bud.

"Yes! Baby…harder…"

Tears dropped from her eyes and her mouth started to dry out from being open and yelping every three seconds. When she began to squeal and squirm from all his thrusting, she dug her nails into her knees and let go.

"I'm cumming Prince N'Jobu! I'm cummi-!"

She slammed her hand over her mouth as the contractions in her walls took over. She stood on tippy-toe as her pussy did all the work of milking his dick. He shouted a curse word in Wakandan and the swelling of his length released a torrent of hot semen. He shoved his dick into her deeper and allowed his release to coat every inch of her slick interior.

Panting, N'Jobu pulled out of her and she felt the back rush of his excess cum drip from her folds. She pulled her underwear and pants up.

Wiping his sweaty brow, N'Jobu stared at her face and they both laughed.

"We are a mess," she said.

She watched him slip a single bead from his kimoyo bracelet as he walked to the front part of their tiny yard. Digging a small hole with his index finger, he dropped the bead in like a seed and tapped it twice. Califia's eyes caught a slight bright afterimage in her retinas that felt like a muted camera flash.

"What was that?" she asked.

"Security. I just activated a surveillance sensor. It will protect the house and alert me of anything outside."

He tapped another bead on his arm. Their house popped up as an image floating above his arm. It rotated 360 degrees. She could see her father, Bakari, and Erik asleep inside.

They snuck into the house and took a shower together. Crawling into bed next to their son after changing into shorts for him and a nightie for her, they spooned Erik on either side of him, the child's snores giving Califia relief that he heard nothing.

N'Jobu stared at his son's sleeping face. Califia' stroked the boy's hair.

"I will give him the world," he said.

Califia nodded, but her man had to know that he was already their son's world.

Erik had it whenever his father was next to him.

###

At the starting point of the march, N'Jobu slipped a kimoyo bead inside the pocket of the black jeans Califia wore.

If any trouble occurred, he would activate a protective camouflage shield around her and him and escort her out. She seemed anxious but eager after Soliel's parents dropped them off and took Erik to stay with Marisol. Erik appeared disappointed once more that he couldn't participate, but he kissed them goodbye and N'Jobu felt relief that his son would be away from potential harm.

The weather was agreeable and he watched Soliel and the march leadership give final instructions to the large crowd that listened to them speak through megaphones. Califia passed out water bottles from the medic supply tent that was set up at the starting zone. There would be others dotted along the march route.

Despite the sad memories of losing Lia, there was a palpable sense of celebratory vibes wafting off the marchers. Some had posters with Lia's face on them, others had posters of other victims of police brutality and police misconduct. Califia wore a brown and beige Steampunk mask that covered the bottom half of her face with attached goggles with dark lenses that protected her eyes. Once Soliel stopped speaking, she too covered her face with a bandanna and dark sunglasses that obscured her face. The family of Lia would be direct targets, and relatives were advised to blend into the actual march and not center themselves for any reason.

More supporters arrived and by the time the march started at three, there was plenty of media and the frenzy to try and capture trouble wafted off of the press. Chants of Lia's name and Brazilian protest songs were sung, and N'Jobu felt proud of the family for keeping Lia's name and work alive.

Two hours in and miles of bodies marching through the streets, word spread through the crowd from flag bearers that the police were moving in to contain pockets of protesters who had broken off from the main march. There was to be a rally at the end in front of the city hall, and the joyful energy in the crowd shifted into caution mode. N'Jobu held Califia's hand and kept her next to him as they walked. The surge in numbers of people grew, and N'Jobu began to feel as if he should remove Califia and the family. Something didn't feel right.

His military skills went into hyperdrive and he searched roofs for snipers and spotted some along the route. They were near the front of the first wave of marchers, and he could see police barricades already blocking access to city hall and limiting the space they had been given permission to occupy.

The crowd grew tense.

Soliel chatted with some women who were to speak in front of the mayor's office and she signaled for Califia and N'Jobu to come next to her.

"They don't want me to speak," Soliel said, "there are some police here who many think we're part of the assassination of Lia."

"You have a right to speak without fear for the family," a young man said who was in charge of the speakers line-up scheduled.

Soliel's face was creased with worry.

Another woman held up her cell phone.

"A group on social media have threatened to make trouble," she said.

"I won't be scared off," Soliel said even though her voice shook. She looked at Aunjanue. Bakari caught up to them.

"There are some people near the middle of the line that are instigating trouble. Some police are getting a little heavy-handed," Bakari said. He scrolled his burner cell.

"Besouro and some drummers are trying to help contain it when I left."

"What do you want to do, Soliel?" Califia asked.

"We should speak. I will speak. They silenced my sister a year ago. We can't allow that to stop us now. Intimidation tactics are what they are known for. I won't bow down to it."

The rally commenced.

N'Jobu and Califia watched speaker after speaker give testimony about Lia and the work still being done to combat the problems of police brutality and the inequities in the city. Califia checked in with Soliel's cousin who babysat the children and things were fine. Soliel closed out the speeches and gave a fiery address. N'Jobu watched her pull off her t-shirt and standing in her bra, she showed everyone her old bullet wounds in her chest and arm. Her voice was guttural and Califia translated her words as fast as she could for him.

"They put a bullet in my sister's head, and they tried to kill me too. Look at me! Look at me! I am a Black woman fighting to honor my sister's memory. I have dedicated my life to doing work that helps my people just like my sister did. My family is still watched by the police. I get email threats every week since my sister has been gone. Why? Because they do not want anyone else to rise up and challenge injustice. The police do this. The same police who allowed my sister to be murdered by their own are out here standing among us. They are not here to protect and serve the people. They are here to uphold the will of the state. And the state says that Black people are not worth anything…"

The crowd booed and some made catcalls to the police surrounding the mayor's office.

"…they say we are not human beings who deserve to live dignified lives. My sister dared to speak truth to power and…"

N'Jobu watched the crowd carefully and then kept watch over the police on alert.

"Oh shit…" Califia said.

"What?"

"She named names. Told the crowd we know the individuals who killed Lia…."

Soliel held up her cell phone and scrolled it.

"She's now naming cops in the line up here and telling the people reports of their misconduct records…"

N'Jobu felt the energy around him get amped up. The anger was swelling from the marchers. The cops looked tenser. A few left their posts and threaded away from the protestors.

"I'm glad she did it, but that was not part of her original speech," Califia said.

Loud chanting started behind them and N'Jobu swiveled his neck to see where it was coming from, but it seemed to erupt from everywhere in a spontaneous show of power.

"Fuck the police!" Califia shouted her fist in the air.

N'Jobu's eyes darted around. Many cops had their hands on their weapons ready to discharge them as they held up riot shields to push back people. He slipped his fingers on his kimoyo beads. One false move and he would make Califia and himself disappear from sight. Califia caught his fingers on the beads and she clutched onto his arm.

"Soliel," she whispered.

"I slipped a bead into her jean pocket," he said.

Califia pressed her head onto his shoulder. The relief spilled from her.

"We are not afraid of you. You should be afraid of the power from all of us. We will change this city for the betterment of all. The world is watching us right now. My sister, Negra Li, she is watching all of us right now. Our ancestors are watching over us right now. Justice will come. Justice is here. I thank all of you for coming—"

An organizer rushed over to Soliel and tugged on her arm. Soliel stared down at her cell phone.

"I just received word that my home was firebombed. My home was attacked—"

"N'Jobu! The children!" Califia shouted.

N'Jobu grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the crowd.

###

Smoke rose up from the destroyed back half of Soliel and Aunjanue's home, and as it drifted up to the sky, the setting sun made it look monstrous like a snarling dragon sitting on top of it with a heated white-gray breath. Adrenaline coursed through N'Jobu. The fire department and police tried to hold him and Califia back as they all stared in disbelief at the destruction.

His heart began to beat again when he saw Soliel's cousin who was in charge of caring for the children standing near an ambulance with Marisol. The little girl was given fresh oxygen. That relief was short-lived.

"Where's Erik?" Califia screamed.

The cousin, Ines, began to cry with a bruised face and Califia shouted out in agony and lunged for the wrecked house again. N'Jobu grabbed her and held her tight, but she fought him. "Is my baby in there?! Is he in there?" she screamed at the firefighters.

There were already firemen going through the rubble in the back. He dragged Califia over to the cousin and Marisol.

"What happened?" N'Jobu asked trying to contain his anger.

"I was cooking and Marisol was with me in the kitchen. An explosion blew up the back….we were thrown onto the floor. I covered Marisol up…but JaJa, he was in the bedroom playing a video game. I called to him, but I couldn't get him because we were covered in debris and the house was burning…"

Ines burst into uncontrollable tears and Califia tried to comfort her as her eyes pleaded for him to find Erik.

"Go get him!" she demanded.

He moved with a swiftness as Dante and Soliel's parents arrived. Soon enough Bakari and Soleil showed up with many organizers.

"My son is in there get off of me!" he yelled pushing on a policeman. He kicked aside wood and concrete, shouting for his boy, his eyes filling with smoke…

"Baba! Mom!"

N'Jobu turned to find Erik running up to his mother. Califia grabbed him in a tight hug, lifting him off of his feet.

"Where were you?" N'Jobu said clutching for him too.

Guilt was on his face.

"I left the house…I snuck off to go to the march…"

His eyes took in Marisol and then he stared at the destroyed rear of Soliel and Aunjanue's home.

"What happened?" Erik asked. His eyes were wide like a baby owl.

Califia kissed all over his face.

"I should be angry with you, but being hardheaded saved your life!" she scolded.

Erik walked up to Marisol who was in the arms of Soliel.

"You okay?" he asked.

Marisol burst into tears.

"We thought you were dead!" she wailed.

The little girl said what they all felt and Erik hugged her.

Califia wiped her eyes.

Soliel lost it.

"They tried to kill my family again!" she shouted.

Aunjanue tried to hold her and Marisol's face crumpled.

"The police did this! The police did this!"

Soliel's parents pulled her and her family away from the ambulance and ushered them to a waiting car. N'Jobu grabbed for Erik and Califia's hands.

"Let's go," he told them with Dante and Bakari on his heels.

He hailed a cab two blocks away and Califia called Soliel's mother to see where they were headed. The new family home was the destination. N'Jobu checked their own rental property and it was intact.

"This is crazy," Bakari uttered.

The ride in the cab only lasted five minutes and they took refuge inside a single-story home. Both the children were checked thoroughly and Marisol was sent to go rest. Calls were made and fears were heightened. Califia's hands wouldn't stop shaking and N'Jobu rubbed her back.

"JaJa," N'Jobu said.

"I know you told me to stay at the house, but I watched the march online and I just wanted to be there. I caught the bus but a lot of streets were blocked off, so I just walked around until I found some marchers. I walked and then I came back."

Fate.

Fate had a way of working on N'Jobu, and he thanked Bast for whatever got into his son's head to leave.

"Poor Marisol, and Ines," Califia said.

"Shit," Dante said.

Califia's father walked to the front door and they all followed.

Groups of angry people were storming down the street yelling.

"This isn't good," Bakari said.

Erik tried to peek at the action but Califia pulled him back and took him to the room where Marisol rested.

N'Jobu heard bottles breaking outside. Soliel's father Andres closed the front door.

"We stay indoors," Andres said.

"They destroyed my home!" Soliel shouted. Aujanue tried to calm her again.

"We will go salvage what we can in a couple of hours, but right now, we stay here."

Andres's voice made things sound final.

The rest of the night was spent watching the news of the firebombing, screening phone calls from the police and media.

People took to the streets and whatever feelings of goodwill and hope that the march provided ended in anger and destruction of public property. Government property was targeted and they all watched in horror as the Sao Paulo community that peacefully assembled to celebrate Lia broke down into hopelessness. Hundreds of arrests were made. N'Jobu and Califia saw young people throwing Molotov cocktails at the police who shot back with rubber bullets and real ones. Complete chaos. Supporters stood outside and protected Andres's home.

Califia was able to slip his kimoyo bead away from Soliel when she changed clothes and returned it to him. N'Jobu spoke with Erik about what he saw in the streets. His son only reported positive things and he felt good about being a part of the memorial march.

"Will they be able to fix the house back up?" Erik asked when he rested between him and Califia for the night in the spare bedroom of Andres's home.

Bakari was camped out on the floor next to the bed on a small cot, and Dante was curled up in a sleeping bag directly on the floor to help his back.

"There was too much damage to save it," Califia said with bitterness lacing her voice.

"Are you guys still mad at me for leaving?"

"No, Son. We are happy that everyone is alive and well. Homes can be replaced. People cannot," N'Jobu said.

Erik rested his head on his mother's stomach.

"Why do bad things happen to us here?" Erik asked.

Califia looked at N'Jobu for the answer.

"Powerful people with ill intent often don't like to see good people change the world. They are afraid of losing their power to control others," he said.

"Marisol was so scared. I shouldn't have left her."

"Don't worry about that. You are safe and sound and here with us," Califia said.

"Will she have to see someone like Dr. Davis? Like I had to talk to someone about…you know…"

"Probably. Don't think about that. Get some sleep, okay?" Califia said.

"Will they stay out in the streets all night? Because of what happened to Auntie's house?"

"Most people have gone home. Luckily, no one was killed by the police—"

"But that woman got shot in the leg, Mom."

"She'll live, son. Everyone is upset and hurt by what happened. They had to act out those feelings. But it's calm now."

Califia smoothed hair from Erik's eyes.

"Somebody needs a haircut," she teased.

"You!" he said pulling a clump of her hair.

"Ow! Boy!" she chirped slapping at his hand.

Erik giggled.

N'Jobu was glad that he wasn't traumatized by the shocking events of the day.

Erik fell asleep and Califia eased him off of her belly and tucked him between them. N'Jobu reached over and stroked Califia's arm.

"I'm still so angry. If they were watching all of us, then they knew there were children in that house. They didn't care. Willing to kill our babies—"

"Shh, Califia. Not now. Don't wake him."

She stared at her hands.

"Look at my hands. They still shake. God, I want to strangle whoever did that to us. I just saw that rubble and knew Erik was under it."

She grew quiet.

"Califia?"

"You think he's okay? He seems calm about all of this."

"I think he's fine. No one was seriously hurt and we all came together quickly. There was no chaos like…like last time."

"I needed to be here for this…"

"But?"

"Maybe it was a mistake. Bringing him here. I could've come by myself…"

"We needed to be here together. All of us—"

"Don't just say that to make me feel better, N'Jobu."

"We can't control the actions of our enemies. The march was an overwhelming success."

"But after the march, we'll get blamed for what happened."

"People acted out of legitimate frustration and anger about what happened to Soleil's home. It was another attack on Lia's good name, and if people destroyed a few police vehicles and buildings, so be it. Why are you smiling?"

She shook her head, her smile deepening.

"What would the old N'Jobu say about you talking like this?"

"The old me was naïve and corrupt."

"Corrupt?"

"Corrupted by privilege. Isolation. Willful ignorance."

Her eyes rested on their son.

"He'll really be okay, right?"

"Yes."

She eased her head on a pillow and closed her eyes.

He drifted in and out of sleep. Their journey into the future would begin soon and he fretted about it until he saw Bakari wake up and go into the kitchen. N'Jobu followed him.

"Couldn't stay sleep," Bakari said pouring himself some instant coffee.

"Me neither. Part of me wants to run out and just beat the hell out of anyone affiliated with the police, and another part of me knows that it could be anyone out there against Black people."

Bakari nodded.

They sat at the kitchen table together and listened to the loud ticking of the grandfather clock in the living room.

"Erik?"

"Good. So far. He wasn't there so he's only concerned about where they will live. Marisol and Ines will have to process this."

"Marisol was laughing with Andres last I heard before I went to bed. Ines said she's been through worse, so…I don't know. Maybe this will pass by for them without much scarring."

"Bakari. When we return to the States, I will need your help with some legal things."

"Like?"

"I'm planning some things and it involves my family. I'll give you more details when there aren't so many ears around, but it's very serious and I need your complete confidence and discretion."

"Whatever you need man."

N'Jobu walked into the living room and peeked out of the large front window. He could see a few neighbors standing guard outside the gated yard, and not much foot traffic or cars rolling through since the police blocked off access near the house. He hoped things had really calmed down, but his gut told him to be ready for anything.

###

The local news was in a frenzy, but the story about the firebombing was picked up on international channels. N'Jobu laid low indoors with Erik. Califia moved in and out of the house to make statements with the press alongside Soliel. Later that day the family went to salvage personal items from the destroyed home. N'Jobu watched the children and cooked for them, checking his kimoyo beads for Califia from time to time.

The march organizers had a debriefing meeting that Soliel insisted on participating in that evening. Dante had a return flight back to Oakland, so goodbyes were given and Califia saw her father off in a cab before she headed out with Soliel. They were gone for hours, and when he didn't hear from them after too much time had passed without a check-in, he grew concerned. He asked Bakari to watch the children while he set out to track her with the kimoyo bead planted on her.

He tried Califia's cell phone, but she didn't answer it. Soliel didn't answer hers either and when he drove a few blocks away from the house, Califia's phone number popped up on his cell.

"Califia?"

The voice on the other end spoke rapid Portuguese and N'Jobu couldn't make out the words. It wasn't his woman speaking. He pulled over and parked. He saw a police vehicle on the corner and there were people lingering outside as the evening settled down.

"Hold on. I don't understand…too fast…slow down…vá mais devagar! Where is my wife?"

The voice became shrill. The only thing he understood was his name and Califia's.

"Hold on for a minute, please!"

Clutching the phone to his chest, N'Jobu swept his eyes back to the police car ahead of him. Something made him leave the car where it was and walk discreetly back to the house.

"Erik, come here!"

Erik bounded out of the bedroom. Bakari stepped out of the kitchen.

"What's up man?" Bakari asked wiping down a plate.

"Someone's on the phone and I can't figure out what they're saying. They're using Califia's phone."

Bakari reached for the cell.

"I can talk to them."

"It sounds urgent and Erik's Portuguese is better."

Erik took the phone.

N'Jobu tapped his beads and he could see that Califia was alive and stationary, but she wasn't where she was supposed to be. He wished he had given her a 4D bead, but he couldn't take the chance of his brother scanning it and discovering his whereabouts or seeing Califia with it.

"Baba, this woman says that the police raided Mom's meeting…the phone cut off."

N'Jobu felt his heart leap to his throat.

Andres and Soliel's mother stepped into the house carrying bags of groceries.

"Mestre, I need you to call Califia's phone back. Something has happened."

Andres took the cell and put it on speakerphone.

The woman answered again but her voice was quieter like she was trying to whisper.

"Turn on the TV!" Andres shouted.

Bakari snapped on the television and N'Jobu's eyes and ears were split between the cell and the news.

"Okay, that was one of the organizers—"

"Mãe," Erik said holding onto Soliel's mother whose hands shook.

N'Jobu held onto the woman's arm and helped her sit down on the couch.

"What is happening?!" N'Jobu demanded.

"The women were having a meeting and the police went there to charge Soliel with inciting a riot and there was shooting. An officer was killed and—"

All eyes went to the TV as reports of the dead cop was announced.

"Where are they?" Bakari asked.

Three women were seated on the curb of a street in handcuffs and N'Jobu recognized them from being in his house days earlier. There was no sign of Califia or Soliel. Aunjanue wasn't seen either.

"Shoot out?" Andres said with an incredulous voice as the TV reporter made ridiculous claims, "My daughter would never have a weapon—"

"Shh," Mãe said patting his arm.

"Baba," Erik said.

His son stepped next to him and held his arm.

"It's okay, Son. Your mother is fine."

He almost convinced himself.

The threads were coming together to tell a story that N'Jobu didn't like. Cops raiding Soliel's organization. He could imagine Califia or Soliel popping off and the cops retaliating for accusations and calling out names for Lia's murder. They had to be on the run if that many police were parading in front of the TV cameras. They would've ditched their cell phones to keep from being tracked.

When the news report went to commercial, N'Jobu turned to face Andres.

"They won't be able to come here. Where can they go that will be safe?" N'Jobu asked.

He couldn't let on that he had the exact location of the women. Picking them up from wherever they were would not be a problem for him, but if they were in deep and actually did kill a cop, he'd have to get Califia out of the country.

"They would head out of the city," Andres said.

N'Jobu held onto Erik's hand. His eyes glanced at N'Jobu's beads and then they were on his father's face. The boy was quick.

N'Jobu ran through plans in his head. They would have to leave all of their belongings at the rental property. There was nothing there they needed. Erik had his mother's laptop there with him. N'Jobu would leave it with Bakari to take back to the States.

The landline rang.

They looked at one another and then Andres answered it.

The man listened to whoever was on the line and his body language relaxed. He hung up and took a deep breath.

"They are fine, but hiding out with Besouro in his apartment. They can't stay there long because the police will probably start locking down streets since a cop was killed. There is now a manhunt for them."

That meant they had names.

That also meant that Califia couldn't leave the country by plane or car. She was stuck.

Unless…

"We can get Aunjanue and Soliel to the Mantiqueira Mountains, but Califia would have to stay with them," Andres said.

Erik's body grew tense against him.

"No. I will get her out of the country," N'Jobu said.

"Man, how you gonna do that? They will have this place crawling with cops, and they will be out for blood," Bakari said.

"Baba," Erik murmured.

Marisol walked into the room rubbing her eyes. Mãe ushered her back into the room she came from napping in.

"I will get her out of here."

N'Jobu's words were final.

###

He was taking a huge risk.

N'Jobu had War Dog allies all over the planet, but what he was attempting to do now could risk the greater mission if it failed.

He stayed secretive as he rode in a cab with Erik and Andres.

Favors had been called in from Andres's cadre of capoeira supporters and close family friends. Spiriting away three wanted women was going to be a delicate task. The police already had a woman in custody who was Soliel's right-hand soldier and she wasn't speaking to anyone but a lawyer. Bakari stayed in Andre's home contacting lawyer friends back home and discreetly checking to see if there was someone who could help him with Brazilian law where it pertained to American citizens accused of crimes.

Changing cabs a few times and walking for the last leg of getting to Besouro's apartment was tough, especially for Erik whose anxiety about his mother spiked tremendously. Entering the back of the twenty-story apartment building, N'Jobu used his kimoyo beads to scramble cameras outside the apartment and inside as they rode an elevator.

He was able to breathe normally the moment Califia was in his arms.

"Jobu!" she cried out when she saw him.

He hugged her so hard that he squeezed the breath from her chest.

"Don't talk about anything, not in front of Erik," he whispered in her ear.

She nodded and he released her to comfort their son. Erik did his best to appear brave but it didn't stop a few tears from trekking down his face once he was back with his mother.

Time wasn't wasted and Andres gave Soliel and Aunjanue wigs that Mãe sent with him and a change of clothes. They waited an hour and then one of Andre's friends called from a hidden car out on the street.

"Cali," Soliel said.

All the women hugged. There were no tears among them, just reassuring touches and kisses. Andres ushered them out.

Besouro cooked for them and they watched the news. Erik held onto his mother until she made him go lay down in Besouro's bedroom.

"Show me your roof access," N'Jobu said.

Confused, Besouro took him to the stairs of the apartment and they walked up ten flights.

"How will you leave here?" Besouro asked.

"I have a plan. We'll be leaving later tonight."

"Why do you need to see the roof?"

"Don't worry about."

"Don't worry about it? Are you insane? How can I not? I have to make sure Califia and Erik—"

"I will take care of my family."

Besouro's eyes look heated.

"They are my family too. They all are. Even you."

The man's voice grew soft.

N'Jobu held out his hand and Besouro clasped it in his and shook it.

"Thank you for protecting them. I promise you; I will take care of them and send you word when we are safe."

Besouro nodded, but N'Jobu could see great doubt there. The man was terrified. And he was putting his own life on the line for harboring fugitives.

"I'm going back down," Besouro said.

N'Jobu watched the man leave. When he was certain that he was alone he tapped his kimoyo bead.

"Lixesha lokuba ndimke."

Indeed.

It was time to leave.

"Your Highness, we shall arrive in exactly one hour. We have your coordinates."

"Thank you, Yonela," N'Jobu said into his beads.

He walked back down to the apartment and joined his family inside Besouro's bedroom.

"Listen to me carefully," he said standing in front of Califia and Erik as they sat on the bed.

Their questioning eyes made him smile.

"We are leaving the country. At midnight."

"I can't get on a plane, N'Jobu. I can't even drive out of Sao Paolo," she said.

"What about our stuff at the house?" Erik asked.

"That can be replaced later. When we get to Oakland we'll have to stay at my apartment. Understand?"

They both nodded.

He touched Califia's hair and she wrapped her arms around his waist.

Ten minutes before midnight, N'Jobu gathered his family and walked them into the living room.

"Don't follow us," N'Jobu warned.

Erik and Califia hugged Besouro and he looked so lost and helpless to N'Jobu.

"Send me word," Besouro said.

N'Jobu nodded then herded Erik and Califia out of the apartment.

They all stayed quiet walking up the stairs and when they reached the roof, they stared at him.

"What's going to happen Baba?"

Erik's earnest eyes made N'Jobu pat his shoulder.

"You shall see, my Son."

Califia's eyes just took in the roof.

"Baba!"

Erik touched the gums on his lower lip. Califia stared at her arms and hands.

N'Jobu could feel the vibration in his body too and turned to face the sky.

"Mom, look!"

Erik pointed above them as streaks of neon blue lit the black sky.

"What…?"

Califia couldn't even finish her sentence as the sky above them appeared to ripple as if someone threw a pebble into a placid dark lake. They were all enveloped in the ticklish field of the multi-spectral camouflage shield. Erik held his fingers up to try and touch the shield but then a loud gasp escaped his throat and Califia's as a Wakandan Battle Cruiser shimmered into full view above them.

"Oh my God! Oh my God!" Califia shrieked.

N'Jobu enveloped her hand in his.

"Baba!" Erik shouted jumping up and down.

The large Cruiser spun around and hovered at the edge of the roof. A large ramp silently eased out from it and two soldiers walked down the ramp.

"Your Highness."

Captain Yonela Majola greeted him with gentle eyes. Her second in command Lt. Deyi looked around the roof to make sure it was secure. His eyes took in N'Jobu's family and when he stared at the Prince, he gave a respectful head nod in deference.

"No matter what happens, you did not see these two. Understood?" N'Jobu commanded.

"Yes, your Highness," they said in unison.

They stepped aside making room for him and his family.

"Come," N'Jobu said holding Erik's hand. Califia walked right next to him, the ship overwhelming her senses.

"I can't believe this," she whispered.

Onboard, the rest of Yonela's crew bowed to him.

"Where would you like to sit, Prince N'Jobu?" Yonela asked.

Erik's eyes made N'Jobu chuckle.

"In the front for now," N'Jobu said.

"We are on course to rendezvous with a Royal Shadow Fighter in Guyana in good time. We will have to stay in hover mode for a day before we can transfer you," Yonela said, "It is the only way I can keep this operation covert."

"That is fine, Captain," N'Jobu said.

Lt. Deyi guided Erik and Califia to empty high-backed gray seats behind the Captain's floating chair.

"Baba, it's not attached to anything. How is that possible?" Erik whispered.

"I will tell you later. We have to leave right away. Califia, are you comfortable?"

Califia sat back in her chair. She looked around for a seatbelt and then her eyes regarded his. He sat next to her and took her hand.

"Whoa," she yelped when the gravity belts secured them.

Her eyes gazed down at her waist and then she touched her shoulders.

"I feel something, but there's nothing here," she said.

Yonela took her position in the floating chair. The chair turned around to face them.

"May I, your Highness?" Yonela asked.

"Proceed," N'Jobu said, taking delight in his family getting a feel of his old world.

Yonela's eyes took in his family.

"You do not exist," Yonela said.

Erik's eyes were bright. Califia was cautious and a bit nervous.

"We are loyal to our Prince. We would die for him. We will get you home safe…"

Yonela's English was simple and clear. She slowed down to make sure they understood every word. She handed them kimoyo beads from her bracelet.

"Keep these on you. They will hide you in plain sight on board this ship. I can communicate with you while you have them. Understand?"

They nodded.

"Good. Welcome aboard."

Yonela floated back around

"At your stations!" she commanded.

The other soldiers took their positions and Yonela swiped her hand in front of her face. Touching a glowing magenta rectangle near her right hand, she took her index finger and thumb widening the rectangle. As she did that, the viewscreen window before them widened.

"Wow!" Erik said.

Califia's eyes were wider too as they took in the landscape of the city.

"May I proceed, Your Highness?" Yonela said.

"Proceed," N'Jobu said.

Yonela's left hand swiped another small floating screen and they all felt the engines rev and the Cruiser floated forward.

The smooth ascent gave them more spectacular views of Sao Paulo. Califia pointed to their left.

"Those are the Mantiqueira Mountains," she said.

N'Jobu held her hand.

"They'll make it, my love," he said.

"Erik," Yonela said.

"Yes?" he answered.

Yonela tapped Lt. Deyi's shoulder and the man stood up from his floating seat in front of Erik.

"Would you like to sit next to me?"

Yonela's eyes twinkled as she turned her head to look back at Erik. The gray hair peppering her short dark curls were the only give away that she was much older than she looked. She was sixty and barely looked forty.

"Can I Baba?"

N'Jobu's eyes met Yonela's. He hadn't been openly forthright with letting her know that this was his own family. He had told the Captain that they were a mother and child he was close to and that they needed help escaping undetected.

Yonela's eyes looked even gentler after she received confirmation.

"Go ahead," N'Jobu said.

Erik wiggled in his seat, and the gravity belt released him. He jumped onto the floating chair.

"Easy, JaJa," Califia said, still holding N'Jobu's hand.

"You see that button there?" Yonela asked pointing to a glowing yellow circle.

"Yes."

"Tap it two times," she said.

Erik did and the lights inside the ship grew dim until it was almost completely dark and just the glow of the night sky and the lights of the city enveloped them.

"Good job, young Prince," Yonela said.

Erik's eyes gazed at the woman, and then he looked back at N'Jobu in wonderment.

Yonela's fingers moved swiftly across her floating controls.

"Stealth mode engaged. Radio silence maintained…"

The rest of the soldiers went about their normal duties.

Yonela kept the cruising altitude low so that Erik could watch them travel over the country of Brazil. N'Jobu felt Califia squeeze his hand and when he looked over at her, there was water in her eyes.

"Come with me," he said releasing her from her seat.

He took her to the upper level of the ship where there were showers and sleeping quarters. Grabbing fresh white cotton loungewear from a closet, he waved his hand for privacy and several soldiers moved away from their section.

He helped her remove all of her clothing before taking his off and led her into a shower stall, locking the shower door behind them. Fully lit with plenty of room for the two of them, he took soap and shampoo from the dispensers and lathered her hair and body as she wept, the stress pouring out of her. He held her, and when she was rinsed off, he made her sit on the shower bench with him. Rocking her in his arms he allowed her to cry until no more tears came.

He pulled her into the body dryer and when they were ready, they dressed in the comfortable and clingy loungewear.

"This way," he said.

She followed him to an empty wall in a corner and watched him wave his hand over a section of it and a bed slid out from the wall.

"Lay down."

She crawled onto the small comfortable bed and he climbed in after her and wrapped his arms around her.

"When you are ready, tell me everything."

She nodded and fell asleep on his chest.

The hum of the ship rocked them both into a much-needed rest.

Chapter 30 HERE.

###

Tag List:

@fd-writes @soufcakmistress @cherrystainedlipsbaby @tclaybon @thadelightfulone

@allhailqueennel @bartierbakarimobisson @cpwtwot @shookmcgookqueen @yoyolovesbucky

@raysunshine78 @the-illlestt @terrablaze514 @l-auteuse @amirra88 @jimizwidow @janelledarling

@chaneajoyyy @sweetestdream92 @purple-apricots @blackpinup22 @hennessystevens-udaku

@scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @bugngiz @stariamrry @honeytoffee @meilintheempressofdreams

@tyees @eye-raq @writerbee-ffs @chocolatedream30 @childishgambinaa @mygirlrenee @thewaysheis—awkward

#Black Boys Bloom Thorns First Vol. 2 #N'Jobu #Killmonger #Little Killmonger #Erik Killmonger as a kid #N'Jobu Fanfiction #Black Panther Fanfiction #N'Jobu Smut

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stillness-in-green · 5 years

Text

Shigaraki, the League and “Redemption”

(In this post: 1700 words about how much I feel like stories/meta in which Shigaraki is rescued or redeemed miss the entire point of Shigaraki.)

It's a big open question how much of Shigaraki's backstory was engineered by All For One. We're not even sure if AFO is the villain who killed Nana's husband, the event that kicked off the entire downward spiral of the Shimura family, much less what degree of involvement he had in Tenko's manifestation of Decay. There's a tremendous amount of well-thought-out, interesting meta and fic about what will happen when Shigaraki finds out the truth, whether he can or should still be redeemed as he currently stands, or how Tenko might have been saved from ever becoming Shigaraki to begin with. While I have read and enjoyed quite a lot of those theories and stories, I still find myself bothered by the prevalence of that line of thought because it ignores the fact that hero society stands condemned regardless.

Whether or not AFO gave Tenko the Decay quirk knowing what would happen, whether he found out about Tenko the night of the accident or never lost track of Kotaro from the very beginning, in truth, none of that matters to the narrative of the League on the whole. Nothing about Shigaraki's past has any bearing on the pasts of the other members. Trying to decide how to "save" Shigaraki avoids the fact that he is the leader of the League of Villains and their pain still stands regardless of their leader's history.

You cannot act as though saving Shigaraki--with All Might, Inko, Izuku, Eraserhead, anyone--would redeem hero society, because Shigaraki is not hero society's only victim. He's not even its most straightforward one! The condemnation he articulates of the world he lives in can't be addressed by him realizing he was manipulated by AFO all along or getting a good therapist in prison, because the world he lives in has failed a good many more people than just him.

Let's break it down.

The League Members

Twice fell through the cracks because of a lack of social support after his parents were killed in a villain attack. He was just a teenager back then--what arrangements were made about where he was going to live? If he was old enough that foster care/being placed in a group home wasn't a good option, did he instead have a stipend from the government? Where was the social worker who should have been overseeing his case? Where was his homeroom teacher when he dropped out of school? What support should have been available when he wound up homeless on the streets? Heroes stop villains and are rewarded both socially and monetarily for doing so, but the much more difficult and involved work of dealing with the fallout from those battles is clearly undervalued, badly so, in comparison. Hero society, which prioritizes glamorized reaction over everyday prevention, failed Bubaigawara Jin.

Spinner had the wrong kind of face. X-Men-style mutant discrimination left him isolated and alienated, shunned by the inhabitants of his backwater hometown because of his animal-type quirk. To say nothing about the threat of violent hate crimes implied by the existence of a KKK analogue! But it goes further than just the bigotry of his neighbors--Spinner's quirk was also unremarkable, meaning that, in a society that prizes flashy and offense-based quirks in its heroes, Spinner would have had few if any role models. Given how many heroes there are, it seems strange to consider that there isn't a single straightforward heteromorph for Spinner to idolize, but given how strongly he latches onto first Stain's warped ideals and later Shigaraki's nihilistic grandeur, Spinner is clearly a young man desperate for a role model--if a hero that fit the bill existed, he wouldn't be a villain today. So he's failed directly by his community for their bigotry and indirectly by society for the way it told him, in a thousand ways big and small, that Iguchi Shuuichi was not a person worth valuing.

Toga had the wrong kind of quirk. It's true that, more than anyone else in the League, she feels like a character who would always have struggled with mental stability, even with the best help imaginable--but she didn't get the best help imaginable, did she? She got parents who called her a freak, who berated a child barely into grade school about how unnatural and awful the desires she was born with were. She was put into a quirk counselling program that apparently only caused her to feel more detached from society. If Curious' characterization of quirk counselling is at all accurate, it seems to focus not on how to manage one's unusual or difficult quirk in healthy or productive ways, but rather on stressing what society considers "normal," on teaching its participants how to force themselves into that mold. Hero society wants people with different needs to learn how to function like "normal" people; it is unwilling to look for ways to accommodate such people on a societal level. Toga Himiko was failed by a society that demonized and othered her for a trait that she did not choose and innate desires that she never asked to experience.

And then, most prominently of all*, there's Dabi. We all know where the big Dabi backstory mystery is going, and his is the most open condemnation of hero society of them all. Dabi was raised on a heady cocktail, parental abuse mixed liberally with unquestioned acceptance of the fundamental importance of having a powerful quirk. Whatever else can be said of Endeavor's path to redemption, the old Enji is emblematic of everything wrong with hero society: the fundamental devaluing of those without power, the fervent strain to push oneself past one's limits over and over and over again, regardless of the consequences to your health or your relationships, the practice of raising children to glorify a dangerous profession that fights the symptoms of societal ills rather than the root causes. The ugly secrets hidden in the Todoroki house are the ugly secrets hidden within hero society's ideals, and because he embodies those ideals so thoroughly, of course Endeavor is lionized and well-paid by a society that never had to see Todoroki Touya's scars.

Mirror of Reality

All of these issues map to things in real life, and I don't only mean in a vague, universal sense--I mean they reflect on specific and observable Japanese problems. Read up on koseki family registries and consider how the dogged insistence on maintaining them impacted the Shimura family, tracked down by a monster. Look into societal bias against orphans and imagine how it shaped peoples' reactions to teenaged Jin and his alleged 'scary face.' Read up on how Japan approaches mental and physical disabilities, on what it regularly does to homeless camps, on what responses get trotted out when someone comes forward with a story about closeted abuse. The League embodies these issues in indirect, sometimes fantastical ways, but they're not what I would call subtle, either; there's a reason the generally poor, disenfranchised League members are contrasted with powerful, urbane criminals like All for One, callous manipulators like Overhaul, and entrenched pillars of society like Re-Destro.

Hero AUs are a fun thought exercise and all, but the League exists to call out and typify very real problems in heroic society and, by metaphorical extension, modern day Japanese society as well. Hero society studiously looks away from its victims. It doesn't want to see them and it thinks even trying to talk about them is disruptive and distasteful. There's no indication in-universe that there's even a movement trying to change this state of affairs. Certainly there are a great many things that could have changed to spare the BNHA world Shigaraki Tomura, but none of those quick, easy solutions would have saved Twice or Toga, Spinner or Dabi. The League of Villains is the punishment, the overdue reckoning that their country will have to face for its myriad failures--for letting its social safety nets grow ragged, for failing to stamp out quirk-based prejudice, for allowing its heroes to operate with so little oversight. For growing so complacent that not one person had the moral wherewithal to extend a hand to a bloodied, lost, suffering child.

Shigaraki, Past and Future

One of the most heartbreaking and yet awe-inspiring aspects of Shigaraki's characterization in his Deika City flashback is that he was thoughtful and compassionate enough to reach out to other kids who were being excluded and teased by the rest of his peer group. The League is foreshadowed for him even as a child, because even back then, he was a kid suffering repression and repudiation and so had empathy for others in similar straits. Young Tenko is the person who would have reached out a hand to the scary but obviously needy Tenko wandering the streets; Tomura, despite everything All For One did to him, still retains that core of fellow-feeling that invites other outcasts to play with him.

"Saving" Shigaraki without addressing the societal flaws that created the people gathered under his banner negates the entire point he and the League exist to raise. I think readers will be forced to confront those flaws alongside Midoriya and the rest of his classmates, who the story has made a point to keep mostly isolated and on a steady PLUS ULTRA diet of all the same rhetoric that leads to consequences like the League to begin with. I only wish more of the fandom--hero and villain fandom alike--was on the same page and writing their fic and meta accordingly.

Footnotes and Etc.

*The only characters in the League whose backstories we don't have much window on are Mr. Compress and Magne, both of whom are framed as seeing society as repressive. Magne openly says as much to Overhaul; Mr. C intimates it to the 1-A kids during the training camp attack. I'm inclined to hold off on commenting on them very thoroughly, though, because in neither case do we know exactly what drove them to crime in the first place. That's not a huge problem for Sako--if anyone on that team is into flamboyant villainy for the sheer joy of it, it's him--but I would definitely want to know more specifics about Magne's personal history before I correlate her experience as a trans woman with her portrayal as a violent, even lethal, criminal. That would get right into the problematic elements of portraying all these societal outcasts as villains, people who undoubtedly have a point, but have taken to terrorism to illustrate it. It's very possible that, for all that the League maps to real problems in Japan, we're still going to get a very mealy-mouthed, "But it's still wrong to lash out when you could protest nonviolently and work with your oppressors to seek a peaceful solution," moral from all this.

P.S. None of the above meta even takes into account the multiple non-League characters whose stories illustrate various failings of hero society--Gentle Criminal, Hawks, Shinsou, even Midoriya himself, as those endless reams of Villain!Deku AUs are ever hasty to expound upon. Vigilantes touches on the idea of "hero" and "villain" categorizations as being almost entirely political in their inception, as is also hinted at with historical characters like Destro. Seriously, the mountain of problems with hero culture just looms higher with every passing arc!

P.P.S. I absolutely do not mean to imply with this meta that Japan suffers uniquely from any of the problems discussed above. Other countries obviously have their own difficulties with homelessness, accessibility of care, victim blaming, and so forth. Horikoshi is writing in and about his own culture, though, and stripping Shigaraki of his villainous circumstances in the interest of making him happier and/or more palatable strikes me as being kind of culture-blind in a way that it’s very easy for Western fans to unthinkingly slip into. Just some food for thought.

#shigaraki tomura #tomura shigaraki #league of villains #boku no hero academia #bnha meta #my hero academia #my writing #bnha

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zutaralover94 · 4 years

Note

For the "Ship and number ask", I request Zutara and either number 4 or number 46 please. Thank you.

This has been in my ask box since the first day! And thank you so much for this request! I had way too much fun writing this... (If you can’t tell by the 10K words)

Read below or read on AO3

Tags: Nanny!Katara, SingleParent!Zuko, Age Difference, Izumi and Lu Ten are Zuko’s children, https://www.familyhomeplans.com/house-plan-41528

Wanted: In house nanny for two children. One is a 10 year old girl; the other is a 5 year old boy. Nanny must drop off and pick up from school. Children need all three meals prepped and cooked for them. Must be willing to do some light housework.

Housing: Provided.

Insurance: Provided.

Wage: $1,500/mo

Katara blew out a breath and sent as many of her good vibes and thoughts as she could as she submitted her resume. College was becoming rough and although her scholarship was paying for the tuition. Her room and books however were drowning her finances.

It was a day later when Katara received a phone call for an interview. She was so nervous that she was almost late to the interview. She arrived right on time outside of a fairly nice house. It looked to be a two story house with a circle drive and Katara could see a peek of the backyard as she pulled into the drive.

Katara blew a breath as she walked up the red bricked pathway. She rang the doorbell and heard small feet running to open the door.

“Hi!”

“Hi,” Katara smiled as a little boy opened the door.

“Daddy and Izumi are in the kitchen,” The little boy grabbed Katara’s hand. “Come on.” Katara slightly stumbled into the house and shut the door behind her as the boy tugged on hand and down the hallway. Katara had to lean in a weird position so the boy could hold onto her hand.

“Lu Ten! Come down, I told you to be ready when the interviewees were here!” A man’s voice filled the entry hallway “Lu Ten!”

“Daaaaad~!” The boy yelled back, and they pretty much ran into a man who was in a white button down that he was rolling up to his elbows. “I’m right here! And she’s here already!” The boy tugged on her arm again and Katara was yanked a little further down.

This was Dad?

Katara’s eyes roamed over the man. He was gorgeous. Tall, dark hair pushed out from his golden eyes, there was a scar over his left eye but… Scars were hot. The man looked strong and although Katara knew he was older. He barely looked 5 years older than her. Hell, he put half of the guys in her class to shame.

Katara smiled to the slightly shocked man, “Hi,” Katara reached out her free hand. “I’m Katara.”

The man shook her hand, “Zuko, nice to meet you.” Katara let go of the man’s hand in order to grab her bag that was slipping down her arm. “Come on, we’ll talk in the kitchen. We’re kind of in the middle of making dinner.” Zuko reached down and scooped up Lu Ten. “Izumi, my oldest, made enough for four.” He turned and winked at Katara. “We’re having grilled cheese and tomato soup. She was in charge of the soup and she used two cans.”

The three of them walked through the living room and to the open kitchen. There was a long bar that separated the living room from the kitchen. And the kitchen was one Katara had only ever dreamed about. It was shiny and well stocked. Zuko and Lu ten circled around the bar to stand beside Izumi who was standing on a chair stirring something in a way too large pot.

Zuko leaned over and gave a big sniff, “Smells great Izumi.” Zuko looked over his shoulder to Katara, who was standing there, slightly awkward, observing the small family. Zuko sat Lu Ten down when he started to squirm. “Why don’t you go get the cheese and let Miss Katara pick out which one she wants?” Zuko leaned over and grabbed a skillet from the cabinet.

Katara sat her bag on the chair at the bar. She followed Lu Ten to the refrigerator and held the door open as Lu Ten opened a small drawer and pulled out multiple packs of cheese. Katara grabbed the butter dish on a shelf and waited for Lu Ten to move before she began shutting the door. She turned and again almost ran smack into Zuko. “Sorry.”

Zuko chuckled, “Sorry. No matter how big this kitchen seems to be, we still run into each other.” Zuko allowed Katara to step by and opened the fridge. Katara walked back over to the stove and smiled to the girl on the chair. She whispered a ‘hi’ to the extremely focused child and began buttering the bread for the grilled cheese. Zuko groaned and began opening and closing drawers and even opened the freezer. “I could have sworn we had butter in here.”

Izumi put a finger to her lips with a small smile. “Don’t tell him.” Izumi whispered. Katara’s smile widened, she already loved Izumi.

“Well, I guess we won’t be having grilled cheese, I can’t seem to find the-” Zuko turned around to see Katara already had two slices buttered. “Butter. Thanks.” Zuko came back over and began making sandwich, he peeked over the pot to make sure the soup wasn’t burning. “So, Miss Katara, let’s talk about your past experiences and references really quick.”

“Right,” Katara moved out of the way and went for her bag. “I have that all here.” Katara placed it on the bar beside where Zuko was cooking.

Zuko just shooed away the papers away with his spatula, “I have already seen and read your resume, Miss Katara.”

“R-right,” Katara pulled the papers back towards her. She looked around the kitchen, Izumi was still holding a whisk over the large pot, Zuko was flipping the first grilled cheese and Lu Ten was putting spoons on napkins in the little breakfast nook table. “I, um,” Katara looked up to see the older man looking at her. “I am currently studying at Ba Sing Se University.”

“Go Boars!” Izumi yelled out and flung the whisk in the air, tomato soup splattering all around.

Zuko groaned and mumbled something about talking to Aunt Toph later. He shook his head and lifted one sandwich out of the pan to replace it with the next one, “What are you studying?”

“My major is in Speech and Language Therapy and I’m minoring in Child Education.”

“Ambitious,” Zuko nodded, “Izumi what kind of cheese for you this time?”

Izumi thought for a moment before turning to her dad, “Pepper Jack and Swiss.”

“My girl,” Zuko winked at her and put down two pieces of cheese on the bread. “What made you decide to study those subjects?”

“I-,” Katara looked down at her paper hoping to get the answer from it, but of course it provided no answer. “I came from a small town and so there were those who were looked after and those who did the looking after. I learned really quickly to be the one who did the looking after.” Katara shrugged, “And I loved the kids.”

“Well that explains the minor in Child Education.” Zuko flipped the grilled cheese. “But why Speech and Language Therapy?”

“Oh well,” Katara bit her lip, “I knew a boy when I was younger. He was older but he had a disability.” Katara looked to the two kids who were watching her. “And no one really knew how to help him, so I did my best to teach him a few things.”

“And how is he now?” Zuko asked as he slid the sandwich onto another plate.

“He,” Katara paused, she didn’t know how Izumi and Lu Ten would react to her saying he had passed away. Zuko looked over his shoulder to her as if he understood her pause. “Learned to read to a fifth grade reading level.”

“That’s great!” Zuko put in a piece of bread for another sandwich, “What type of cheese, Miss Katara?”

“Um, what do you have?” Katara asked looking at the packages of cheese on the counter.

“Anything and everything,” Zuko said as he pulled out two slices of pepper jack to put on his next sandwich. “We went grocery shopping before you came. So, it all well stocked.”

“I see.” Katara pushed over the Colby-Jack cheese.

Zuko nodded and asked for Izumi to start filling bowls with soup. “And if I remember correctly you have CPR training?” Zuko asked as he flipped the grilled cheese over.

“Yes,” Katara nodded and thumbed at the papers in her hand. “Adult and child certified.”

“Haha,” Zuko laughed, “That’s good to know. So, if I fall over one night, I know you will be able to do CPR.”

Katara blushed and turned her head, “Yes, sir.”

“Oh,” Zuko groaned, “Don’t call me sir. It makes me sound old.”

“Sorry,” Katara ducked her head.

Zuko scooped out his sandwich and put in one more sandwich. “Did you bring any more references other than the ones online?”

“Oh,” Katara looked down at her hands. “I have two written letters here and a small list of past parents I have baby sat for.”

“So, you’ve never done a live-in nanny position?” Zuko asked as he placed the cheese Katara picked out on the sandwiches.

“No,” Katara felt her confidence and shoulders drop, “Was that a requirement for this job?”

“No. No, no, no,” Zuko waved the spatula around again. Katara was beginning to see if she got this job that she would be doing a lot of spot cleaning. “I just need to know what we need to go over, if we decide to go with you.”

“Right,” Katara nodded and watched as Zuko flipped her sandwich.

“We’ll go more into detail about that once we actually sit down. What do you want to drink?” Zuko asked as he flipped the knob off on the burner beneath the pot of soup and the pan with her grilled cheese.

“Uh, water is fine.”

“I’ll drink water too, Daddy!” Lu Ten perked up from the table. Katara looked over to see him playing with a small gaming console.

“Do you mind getting down the glasses?” Zuko asked Katara, “It looks as if I have lost my helpers.” Izumi sat down a small bowl in front of Lu Ten and was leaning over his shoulder to watch him play.

“That’s fine,” Katara said as she looked around the kitchen again, “Where are the-?”

“Top cabinet beside the fridge.” Zuko pointed across the kitchen. “Izumi and I will drink water too.”

Katara made each glass and carried them carefully to the table and sat them down as Zuko came around with the plates of grilled cheese. Katara made a mental note that Izumi’s grilled cheese was cut into triangles while Lu Ten’s was cut into squares.

“So, with the live in nanny position, you’ll of course be staying here. The room is just back that way.” Zuko pointed to the doorway beside the kitchen. “It has its own bathroom and everything.” Zuko took a bite and chewed for a bit.

Katara followed his lead but dipped hers into her soup first. She almost gave a pornographic moan as she bit into her sandwich. It had to be the best grilled cheese ever! She let her eyelashes flutter closed and when she opened them Zuko was smirking at her. “This is a really good sandwich!”

“Thank you,” Zuko’s smirk didn’t slide off even after he took another bite. “Anyway, the kids need to be fed and dressed before school, I will also need you to drop them off. Lu Ten’s class needs a snack to be provided at least once a month. And Izumi doesn’t like gummy snacks.”

“No,” Izumi shook her head. “Or gum!” Katara nodded at the information.

“I try to have the kids take their lunches, but I rarely have time to prep for that. Then you will need to pick them up. Except on Tuesdays, Izumi has basketball practice. And then dinner, you and I can arrange that menu, should you take the job.” Zuko continued on. “I’ll do my best to work with your class schedule.”

“Mmm,” Katara swallowed her mouthful of sandwich, “I’m actually mostly online. I only have one class that is 10 to 2 on Wednesdays.” Zuko nodded. “And I will try to keep my schedule around the kids in upcoming semesters.” Zuko raised an eyebrow. “If I get the position, that is.”

Zuko smiled, “There are house rules. No spanking the children.” Katara nodded and Lu Ten let out a loud ‘YEAH!’. Zuko shot him a look. “No bringing in guests.”

No problem there. Katara thought as she nodded her head.

“No drinking or smoking while the children are present.” Katara nodded to that one. She would just have to sneak in her wine coolers on vacation. “I do not tolerate lateness, lies or laziness. I have no problems with letting you go for any of those things.” Zuko said with the sternest face Katara had seen from him yet. She nodded her head. “The wage is $1,500 a month. But I will give you a separate card to use for things like gas and groceries.”

“That all seems reasonable.” Katara nodded as Zuko began eating again. “I just recently took nutrition class, so I have meal plans made.”

“That’s good.”

“It even has a super tasty chocolate chip cookie recipe.” Katara gave a small smile and saw both Izumi and Lu Ten give a large smile.

+++

Katara left feeling great about the position but when she hadn’t heard back from Zuko two days later, she started to doubt herself. She was exiting her class and looked down at her watch. 2:30pm. Katara took out her keys and was walking to her car when her phone started vibrating. She stared at the ‘Unknown’ caller id on her phone for a few rings. Trying to decide if it was just another extended warranty call for her car or someone trying to get ahold of her. She waited on more ring before answering. “Hello?”

“Katara?” The man’s voice was somewhat muffled slightly and Katara’s shoulders dropped.

“This is she.” Katara figured the person probably would have to go through their whole sales pitch before she got to break the news that she didn’t plan on extending any insurance warranty.

“Hey, Katara. Look I’m really sorry to do this. But I need you to pick up Lu Ten and Izumi. Toph can’t seem to get them and I’m still stuck at work.”

“Zuko?”

“Yes, can you do that for me?” Zuko asked almost desperate. “I meant to call you later tonight to let you know you go the job, but I kind of need help, now.”

“Really?! I got the job?” Katara stopped in front of her car and felt herself smile. “Thank you so much!”

“Yes, yes,” Zuko chuckled, “Can you pick them up from school? Lu Ten gets out at 2:45 and Izumi gets out a 3:00. It’s okay if you are a little late. I can let their teachers know.”

“Yeah, I can.” Katara got into her car. “Do you have an address?” Katara looked around her dirty car. She was going to have to stop somewhere and at least dumb all of the empty coffee cups in her backseat floorboard.

“I’ll text it to you,” Zuko paused. “And thank you Katara. I’ll be home around 6. We can come back with you to help collect your things from your dorm or housing.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that…” Katara turned her car on and connected her phone through the car. “I can just grab it. There’s not a ton of things for me to bring.”

“Alright, well my offer still stands to help. I’m going to hang up now and send you the address.” Zuko hung up without a goodbye. Then two seconds later a text message arrived.

Katara sat there in the quiet of her car for a second before bouncing in the seat of her car and doing a happy dance. She had gotten the job! She fist pumped a few times before looking around to make sure no one had seen her burst of excitement. Once she saw the coast was clear, she did one last bounce and put the address info her GPS.

+++

A few weeks later and Katara felt like she had it all down. She would wake up to the sound of Zuko shutting the garage door. Have enough time to brush her teeth and begin breakfast before waking up Izumi and Lu Ten. She would serve them breakfast, make lunch, and then get ready while the other two were getting ready as well. There were a few times that Izumi would go back up and sleep. Those mornings were the worst, because then Lu Ten would start dragging his feet. Katara would take them to school drop Lu Ten off first, then Izumi. Go back home clean up breakfast and depending on the day of the week do laundry, clean the living room and kitchen, or sit on the back porch and study until 2:15. She would then pick up Lu Ten and then Izumi, making sure both have their backpacks and lunch bags. They would make it back home for a small snack and to do homework. Except on Tuesdays when Izumi had basketball practice. Zuko would arrive back home before 7pm and Katara had dinner on the table no later than 7:30. Clean up was done by the Zuko and either Izumi or Lu Ten would help him with the dishes. Both children were in their rooms by 9. And Katara made sure that both were asleep by 10. (Most nights having to take away flashlights from Izumi.)

Katara sat with her legs folded under her and a cup of coffee in her hand as she reread the section in her textbook. She fiddled with a strand of her hair in her other hand, a bad habit she couldn’t remember when she took up.

“You have a test coming up?”

Katara’s head flew up and she looked to see where Zuko was in his robe at his bedroom doorway. There was a bit of his chest showing and Katara did her best not to stare at the gorgeous pale skin. She bit her lip and nodded, looking back down at her book. She heard footsteps get closer to the couch. A shadow covered her book, blocking her light from the lamp.

“Do you realize what time it is?”

Katara looked at her empty coffee cup and then looked around her lap to find her phone. Her back popped as she twisted to her right. She winced slightly before locating her phone under her knee. 1:24am. Katara blew out a breath. “I’m sorry. I’ll be going to bed soon. I have one-,”

“Katara,” Zuko said in his most stern voice.

“More chapter.” Katara pouted and flipped a page in her book. “I promise to go to bed right after this.” Katara tapped the book. She mentally groaned as she looked at the title of the next chapter.

Zuko shook his head, “Alright, but get to bed as soon as your finished. I would hate for Izumi to have to come steal your flashlight.”

Katara gave a small smile, “I promise. Goodnight Zuko.”

“Night, Katara.” Zuko yawned and then turned back to his bedroom.

+++

“Lu Ten you promised you were going to help me mate socks!” Izumi stomped her foot in the middle of the clean laundry.

“No, I didn’t!’ Lu Ten stuck his tongue out. “I told ‘Tara I would help her make the socks!”

“Mate the socks! Not make the socks!” Izumi crossed her arms and then plopped down next to the basket. “You put the two together! Not sew them!”

“I-I knew that!” Lu Ten yelled back and tripped into the living room sprawling across the dumped out socks.

“Would you both quit yelling?” Katara asked as she set down a string cheese and a juice pack for both of them. “I’ll give you each a quarter for each match you make.”

“Yay!” Lu Ten was quick to begin pairing the socks.

Izumi however began eating her snack, “You know a quarter isn’t that much.”

“No, but if you match 10 pairs that will get you-,”

“$2.50.” Izumi cut Katara off. “What could I get with $2.50?”

“Well, you could get-.”

“I found one!” Lu Ten shouted and put the socks together. “I’m going to beat Izumi. Just watch!”

Katara smiled to him and turned to whisper to Izumi, “I’ll give you an extra quarter for every match you have to rematch and $5 for putting away everyone’s socks in their drawers.”

Izumi gave it a moment to think about it before nodding, “Deal.”

+++

Zuko looked down at the clock and began shutting down his computer 30 minutes early. He was packing up his things when Song popped her head in. “Leaving early, Boss?”

Zuko glanced at her briefly before dropping a folder into his briefcase. “Yeah, the nanny has supper cooking already. She told me it was making my favorite.”

“Nanny? Favorite?” Song smirked and raised an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah,” Zuko closed up everything and looked up at her. “I owe her a ton. She’s helped out so much with the kids.”

“Mhmm,” Song still held a skeptical look.

“What?” Zuko grabbed his keys and his briefcase and headed towards the elevator

“And what else is she like?” Song clicked off Zuko’s office light and fell into step beside him.

Zuko chuckled and looked over to her before waving goodbye to Smellerbee and Pipsqueak. “I’m not too sure what you mean by that, Song.”

“Is she pretty?” Song pushed the down button for Zuko.

It was Zuko’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Song-.”

“What?” Song shrugged her shoulders innocently. “I’ve just noticed you leave earlier and earlier. There’s a smile on your face for longer than just after that first sip of coffee. And-”

“I’m doing more work at home. And maybe I was so busy with everything else and making sure that my assistant did her job, that I didn’t have time to smile.” Zuko stepped in the elevator. He pressed the button for the ground floor. “Katara has just lightened the load. Goodnight, Song. Remember the 7:30 meeting in the morning. Don’t be late.”

+++

“Pulling an all-nighter again, Miss Katara?” Zuko asked from the study doorway.

Katara had found comfort in the small room at the front of the house. There was a large desk so she could really spread out and work. She blinked as she looked away from her page, “What time is it?”

“12:49.” Zuko said as he took soft steps into the study.

“I have a final tomorrow at 10.” Katara explained as she tried to take a sip of her empty coffee mug. She frowned down at her mug. “I still have a few chapters to review.”

“Chapters?” Zuko leaned against the desk and looked over her notes. “You’ll have a few hours to review in the morning. Why not just do it then?”

Katara sat back in the chair cradling the cup in her hands, “I’m a night owl. I do my best work later in the day. It’s hard to focus that early in the morning.”

Zuko just shook his head, “Mhmm.”

“I’ll go to bed soon. I promise.”

“I’ve heard that before,” Zuko crossed his arms. Katara was very beginning to see where Izumi got it from. “Last time, you were up till 3:30. Izumi had to wake you up the next day.”

Katara’s face flushed, “I promise that won’t happen again. I’ll go to bed before that.”

“Alright, but if it happens again, I’m taking away your flashlight, missy.” Zuko wagged his finger at her before turning and going back to bed.

Zuko got up the next morning to see the light in the study still on and Katara’s head pillowed in her arms. A pencil in her hand and a small snore coming from her open mouth. He sighed and gently woke her up, “Come on, Katara.”

“A in neighbor and WEIGH!” Katara jolted up right. “Fuck!” Her back popped and she began shaking out her hands that were still asleep. She turned to see a semi dressed Zuko. His dress shirt was unbuttoned, and his thin white undershirt was like a second skin to his body. For Zuko being 11 years older than her, he definitely could knock out anyone her age with his torso. Or what she could see from it. Zuko’s usually combed back hair was a mess and falling into his eyes. Katara had to grab her hand to stop herself from reaching out to brush the black strands from his golden eyes. “Sorry.” She whispered. She wasn’t sure if it was because she fell asleep in the study or if it was for ogling at him like a double chocolate cake dipped in chocolate ganache frosting.

“You promised,” Zuko tutted at her.

“I did,” Katara laid her head back over on the desk with a yawn. “I’m sorry.”

“So, you said,” Zuko chuckled and nudged her again, “Alright, come on, you go back to bed. I’ve got the kiddos.”

“No!” Katara stood up and began pilling her papers together, “I mean, no. I can take care of them. I’ll just-”

“Let me do it,” Zuko put a hand on her shoulder and she freezes. “I actually kind of miss it. You can go back to bed. I’ll wake you up when we leave.”

“But that’s my j-,”

“No, buts.” Zuko said as he nudged her to go back to bed. “Have a good nap. I expect you to get an ‘A’.”

Katara felt all of her fight leave her, “Thanks, Zuko.”

+++

“Leaving early again, Zuko?” Song asked as she looked up from her computer.

“This again?”

Song gave a soft laugh, “What’s on the menu tonight?”

“Some sort of pasta,” Zuko turned and walked backwards to the elevator. “I’ll see you in the morning?”

+++

“GO! GO! GO!” Katara yelled and stood up in the bleachers. Izumi was dribbling down the court. She was in perfect form as she shot the ball. “YES!!!” Katara turned and gave Lu Ten a high five. She gave another little “Woot!” before sitting down next to the boy.

Lu Ten swung his legs, “Do you have to do that every time, Zum makes a goal?”

Katara looked over at the boy, “Of course. She made a goal! That’s great!”

“Right,” Lu Ten looked out to where his sister was sitting on the bench taking a small break. “I want to play too.”

“Really?” Katara brightened up at that. “That’s great! When we get home, we can look up to see if there-.”

“I want to play with Zum.” Lu Ten shook his head. “Because she wins all the points!”

“Well, if you get really good maybe you can.” Katara smiled and fluffed the hair on Lu Ten’s head.

Lu Ten pushed her hand away, “Do you think Dad would let me?”

Katara sat there for a minute, “Yeah, if you seriously want to play. I think he would.”

“Okay,” Lu Ten looked back at the court. “I want to play.”

The next four goals Izumi shot, Lu Ten was up hollering with Katara.

+++

Katara sat in a lawn chair and watched as Izumi helped Lu Ten hold the ball correctly again. She looked down to her phone and scrolled through yet another picture of some far off destination one of her friends had posted. The school was on a four day holiday and Katara silently wished she could have gone out with her friends.

“Has he made a basket yet?”

Katara looked over her sunglasses to where Zuko was standing just outside the door. She looked back over to the kids and saw Lu Ten flimsily shoot the ball. It hit the rim but didn’t go in. Izumi went and caught the ball. “That was so close! But watch me one more time, kay?”

Katara smiled, “I think he’s getting the hang of it.” Katara looked at the clock in the corner of her phone screen. “You’re home early.”

“Someone at the office reminded me that it was a long weekend. You should have told me.” Zuko took a seat next to her. “I would have let you take off.”

Katara shrugged her shoulders, “I didn’t have any plans.”

Zuko made a small hum. He looked her over. She was in a tank top and a pair of short shorts. Her skin was such a beautiful tan. Zuko was shocked that Katara never asked for time off. He knew she was heavily focused on her studies but a girl like Katara should be going to parties and off spending money she didn’t have on vacations. “Well, if you have somewhere, you’d like to go you can take the rest of the weekend. I can watch the kids.”

Katara pushed her sunglass up and into her hair, “I really don’t have any plans. I was so busy with semi-finals I forgot to make plans.” Katara stretched out and then stood up and stretched again. She looked over to the kids, “But I heard Lu Ten say something about the beach and thought about taking them out tomorrow. If you’d like to join us.”

Zuko nodded and then shook his head, “I should really work on some things at home.”

Katara looked back with small concern, “You should take a break. The kids would be really happy if you joined us.”

Zuko gave a small smile, “I’ll think about it.”

“Ha,” Katara crossed her arms and gave the most humorless laugh. “That’s what my dad used to say. Usually he had already made his decision, but it was never the one I was hoping for.” Katara gathered her things before calling out to the kids that lunch would be ready in twenty minutes.

+++

The next day Katara was holding on to her hat and watching Izumi and Lu Ten run towards the ocean. She turned back to see Zuko tugging out beach chairs and a cooler. She was happy that he came. She had been so nervous that he would back out. But when he woke her up at 10 and told her to get herself together, they were leaving in an hour. Her nerves switched directions.

Katara tugged at the white sheer kimono styled cover up over her white strapless bikini. Maybe she should have worn her navy blue one piece. But then she wouldn’t have gotten to see Zuko’s eyes widen just a smidge as she walked out to the car.

Katara picked out the best spot to keep an eye on the kids as they splashed through the shallow waters. Zuko settled in next to her with a book. Katara lasted about 15 minutes into the silence and watching the kids, “I’m really glad you came out with us.”

“Huh?” Zuko looked up from his book.

“I know you really didn’t want to come out. But I’m glad you did.” Katara stood up and draped her wrap over the chair and her hat under it. “Watch these for me? I’m going to go play with the kids.” Katara did a light jog to the water and only looked back briefly to see if Zuko was watching her. He was. And Katara called it a win for the day.

A little while later Katara, Izumi and Lu Ten made their way back to their spot on the sand. Katara begins pulling out waters and sandwiches from the cooler. Izumi and Lu Ten ate as quickly as they could, ignoring Zuko’s attempts to tell them to slow down or they’ll get a stomachache. Lu Ten asked for the bag for seashells and then begged Izumi to go look with him. Izumi finished off her lunch and got up with Lu Ten to look for shells. Katara made sure they put on another round of sunscreen before heading out.

Katara smiled at the two as they looked around, Lu Ten putting almost anything he found in the bag, but Izumi was being picky and throwing back almost anything she found. Katara reached over and dug through her bag for her nail polish. She removed what she already had for starting with a white base coat for her toes, ring fingers and pinkies. She watched the kids play around again as she waited for her nails to dry.

“You should probably put on more sunscreen too.” Katara shrugged and pulled out the navy blue next. “Don’t just shrug your shoulders at me missy.” Zuko said sternly.

Katara cracked a smile. “Trust me. I’m not worried about it. I used to come to the beach all the time. I know when to put on sunblock. But you should probably think about it.”

Zuko gave her a spectacle look but reached for the sunblock.

Katara painted the rest of her nails navy blue and finished at the same time Izumi and Lu Ten came running back to their spot. Lu Ten held up the baggy “Look how many shells we got!” Katara gave a big smile and nodded.

Izumi was quick to sit down next to her and look at her nails. “I love those colors! Can you do mine?”

Katara looked up to Zuko who was being pulled on by Lu Ten saying over and over how he wanted to go over to the tide pools. “Sure, but maybe ask your dad first.”

Izumi took off after them, tugging on Zuko until he said yes. She ran back to Katara with a smile that was so bright it could rival the sun. “He said yes!”

Katara handed over her nail polish bag and told Izumi to pick one or two. She finished her nails by putting on silver sparkles on her ring fingers and big toe. Izumi changed her mind three times before setting out a neon pink and a neon orange. She sat quietly as Katara finished up and looked over her nails.

“I’ve never painted my nails before.” Izumi said quietly as Katara looked over her picks. “I also want one sparkly like yours.”

“Your mom never did your nails?” Katara asked as she took out a clear glitter polish.

Izumi shrugged and watched Katara pull out another few bottles of nail polish and a makeup sponge. “Maybe she did. But I don’t remember. I was pretty young when she left.”

“Oh,” Katara felt slightly bad. They had never talked about this before.

“Dad still misses her. I know. But,” Izumi sighed. “I’m not sure if I do or not.”

“My mother died when I was younger. So, it was just my Gran Gran, dad, and older brother. My Gran Gran did the best she could while she was alive. But by the time I was twelve I had to learn a whole lot of stuff on my own. Like how to paint my own nails.” Katara said to lighten the mood. “So how about I ombre yours and we can do glitter on all of them?”

Izumi nodded excitedly. “So, you don’t think it’s a bad thing I don’t miss my mom?”

Katara took Izumi’s firsthand and began applying a peel off around her fingernails. “It’s hard to miss something you don’t remember.” Katara watched Izumi wiggle her fingers as she took her other hand and began that one. They sat in quietly for a few minutes, Katara working on painting all of Izumi’s nails white.

“You’re like a mom.” Izumi said after she wiggled her freshly painted fingernails while Katara worked on painting her toes every other toe pink or orange.

“What?” Katara paused over a toe.

“Well, you cook and clean, and help me and Lu Ten. Oh, and you drop us off and pick us up from school. You know how I like my sandwich cut in triangles.” Izumi leaned on her knees to look at her finished toes. “Aunt Toph kind of did that but she didn’t cut my sandwiches and she didn’t stay at the house.”

“I’m sure if you asked Aunt Toph she would have cut your sandwiches.” Katara took out her sponge and began adding on the nail polish. “And that’s what my job is. That’s why your dad hired me. It’s to make sure to take care of you and Lu Ten.”

“So, you’ve done this before?” Izumi watched as Katara dabbed all her nails with the makeup sponge.

“Yeah, kind of,” Katara picked up her other hand and dabbed the nail polish on those. “I babysat before. But I’ve never done the whole living with a family before.”

Izumi nodded at that, “Well I hope you stay with us for a while.”

Katara smiled down at her, “I hope so too.”

+++

A cry stirs Katara from sleep and then a large flash of lightening.

“Daddy!”

Katara was out of her bed and running through the dark living room to the stairs, flashes of lightening glowing the living room every few seconds. Zuko was only a few steps in front of her. Zuko was already cradling a crying Lu Ten by the time Katara reached the room having taken the stairs two at a time. She walked a few steps down the hall to Izumi’s room. Izumi was still asleep as another loud clap of thunder shook the house. Katara shook her head, the child could sleep through anything.

Katara walked back to see Zuko curled up in the tiny bed of Lu Ten’s. His eyes were closed but Lu Ten’s were wide open. Katara stepped in and sat down next to the bed. She reached out and took Lu Ten’s hand. He clasped hers tightly as another flash of light shown through his window.

Zuko let out a soft snore and Katara covered her mouth to keep from giggling with her other hand. Lu Ten still looked frightened. Katara motioned for him to come with her. He reached out for her and Katara picked him up from Zuko’s arms. Zuko only turned a bit more into where Lu Ten had been. “Your sister and dad are one in the same. Come on. I know secret to sleeping with scary storms.”

“Wwwhat is it?” Lu Ten wrapped his arms around Katara’s neck a little tighter. He grabbed her ear and played with small stud in her upper helix.

Katara carried him downstairs, “My Gran Gran used to make something called a thunder cake.” Katara prayed the child had never heard the story before. She turned on the lights in the kitchen and pulled a high top chair into the kitchen. “Can you sit here while I get the ingredients?”

Lu Ten nodded and sat on the chair. Katara could hear him shake every so often as she gathered a few things for a simple chocolate cake. “My Gran Gran was the strongest person I know.”

“Daddy is the strongest person I know!” Lu Ten interrupted.

Katara smiled at him as she grabbed eggs and butter from the fridge. She prayed that Zuko had coco in his pantry. She turned to Lu Ten after she sat the things down on the counter. “I need to go get my phone. Do you want to come with me?” Lu Ten nodded and Katara carried him with her as she took her phone from the charger seeing that it was 2:13. Katara sighed and opened her browser to look for a simple cake recipe. “Now this isn’t Gran Gran’s cake because her cookbook is still at home with my dad. But it’s good.”

Lu Ten hummed, “That’s okay.” Katara was about to set Lu Ten back down but another large boom shook the house and Lu Ten clung to Katara.

Katara petted his back a few times, “It’s okay.” Katara finally got him to sit back in the chair. “So, my Gran Gran used to tell me this story. Do you want to hear it?” Lu Ten nodded.

“Okay but first you have to promise to help with the thunder cake.” Katara held out her pinky. Lu Ten was quick to hook his around hers. ”Alright, now Gran Gran used to tell me that if you see a flash of lightning that you should count slow and when the thunder rumbles you stop counting. Can you do that for me?” Katara waited till Lu Ten gave a small nod. He looked beyond nervous. “Good, alright so if you see lightening count slow. Okay?” Just then lightening flashed in the windows and Lu Ten began counting.

“1-2-3-4-5-6-”

BOOM!

Lu Ten jumped a little but stopped counting.

“That means it’s six miles away.” Katara began by pre heating the oven. She searched through the drawers for measuring spoons. “Gran Gran was never scared of lightning and thunder.” Katara said as she began putting the dry mixture together. She gave Lu Ten a spoon for him to stir the dry ingredients. “She told me that it was because the lightning and thunder were brothers.”

“They are?” Lu Ten interrupted her again.

“Yup, I’ll tell you the story that she used to tell me.” Katara began whisking together the few liquid ingredients. Katara went through the story pausing when Lu Ten began counting when lightening crackled. Katara told him of how the two brothers often fought and told Lu Ten to spoon in the dry mixture while she stirred the wet batter. Lu Ten followed the instructions and listened with wide eyes as Katara told the old legend. He seemed so distracted that by the time Katara was putting the pans in. She watched his eye lids droop.

Katara nudged him at one point as he had leaned his head over on her arm. She was trying to make a frosting for the cake. He only sat up briefly only to put his head back on her arm. Katara put down her spoon and picked Lu Ten off the chair. Lu Ten’s small hand immediately went to her ear. She took her phone and him to her room. She did her best to lay him down and closed the blinds to the storm next to her bed. Katara predicted that this was the worst of it. Lu Ten snuggled into her pillows and Katara draped the messed up bed sheets over him. She ran her fingers through his hair a few times and smiled at the small hand that grabbed onto his ear.

Katara went back to the kitchen a few minutes later to finish the frosting and to pull out the cakes. She set an alarm to let the cakes cool and went back to her room. Curling up on the other side of the bed. Katara pet the little boy’s hair a few more times before her eyes closed.

She woke up a few hours later with a thumb playing with her helix earring. Katara peeked through her eyelashes to see Lu Ten’s eyes still closed but he was waking up. Katara smiled and pulled the blankets back over Lu Ten. Lu Ten’s golden eyes blinked open, he smiled at her before his eyelashes fluttered closed again.

“Do you want cake for breakfast?” Katara whispered to him. She watched Lu Ten’s smile widened before he opened his eyes and nodded. Katara sat up and turned to grab Lu Ten when Zuko came stumbling into her room.

“Kat, have you seen-,” He paused at the doorway to see a sleepy Lu Ten in Katara’s arms.

“Daddy, we are going to have cake for breakfast!” Lu Ten said much more excitedly compared to his sleepy stature.

“Cake?” Zuko asked but gave Katara a raised brow.

“Mhmm,” Lu Ten leaned his head over on Katara’s shoulder. “We made thunder cake.”

“Thunder cake?” Zuko moved out of the doorway as Katara made her way to the kitchen. Zuko looked over his messy kitchen. “When did you make a cake?”

Katara sat Lu Ten back on his chair and went to the cabinet for a plate and knife. Katara pulled the frosting from the fridge and put the cake on the plate before spreading on the frosting.

“Last night during that really loud thunderstorm. Katara told me a story about it!” Lu Ten began retelling the story in pieces and then having to go back and retell it again because he missed a piece of the information. Katara had just about finished frosting when Lu Ten finished his story. “And I’m not afraid of thunder anymore!”

“That’s great, little man.” Zuko said as he got down four small saucers and forks. “So, you made cake.”

Katara cut a slice for everyone and made her way upstairs to wake up Izumi when Zuko started to yell for Izumi to come downstairs. Katara shook her head and gently pulled down the covers from Izumi’s face. “How do you sleep like that?” Katara whispered. She pushed back Izumi’s hair as she began to stir awake from the cooler air of her room. Izumi smacked her lips and golden eyes peeked out before closing again. Katara caught Izumi’s shoulder as she tried to roll over and go back to sleep. “Nuh-uh, come on. Wakey wakey. We’re having cake for breakfast.”

“Cake? Like pancakes?” Izumi whispered still trying to turn over and to go back to sleep.

“Nope,” Katara poked her side and made her squirm as she was tickled. “Real chocolate cake.”

Izumi moved over slightly in the bed to get away from Katara’s tickling fingers. She opened her eyes again, “For breakfast?”

“Mhmm,” Katara smiled as Izumi slowly sat up.

“I’ve never had cake for breakfast before.”

Katara hummed again, “Well we might get to, as long as your brother and father don’t eat our slices too.”

“That does sound like them,” Izumi nodded and began to push the blankets away from herself. “When did you make cake?”

“Last night, during the thunderstorm.”

“There was a storm last night?” Izumi asked as the girls made their way downstairs.

Katara nodded and when they got down to the kitchen, the boys had already finished their first piece. Zuko was poised to cut another slice for himself but set down the knife in a slightly guilty manner when Katara raised an eyebrow at him.

+++

A few months passed when Zuko sat down with Katara for an evaluation.

“I’m very impressed with how the kids are getting along,” Zuko said as poured Katara a glass of wine. “With you.”

Katara felt a little nervous with how this was going to go. She took a small drink from her glass. “Oh?”

“You are doing very well with them.” Zuko drank from his cup.

“Thank you,” Katara said quietly.

There was a silence that stretched between them. Katara straightened out the already straight cutlery.

“I hope this dinner is enough to show my appreciation.” Zuko said with a smile and looked around the restaurant.

“Yeah, I’m sure it will be great. Thank you.” Katara shook her head after saying thank you, again. “This is like super fancy.”

Zuko turned to look at her, “Oh! I figured you would like a night out and somewhere nice. We could-,”

“No!” Katara covered her lips at the loud outburst. “Uh, no, it’s totally fine. I’m enjoying this.”

“Really?” Zuko raised his eyebrow. “Your straightening of the place setting says otherwise.” He nodded to where her hands were playing with her plate.

Katara looked down and placed her hands in her lap quickly, “Sorry.”

“Why are you nervous?” Zuko picked up his glass again.

“I- I actually love this job. And I really hope that I can continue working for you.” Katara lifted her hands to mess with the plate again. “So, I want this to go well.”

Zuko smirked at her and Katara felt her heart hammer in her chest. “You’re not going anywhere. The kids would lash out if you decided leave.” Katara smiled and reached for her wine glass. “Which brings me to my next question, when would you like to take a small leave? You’ve not asked for a vacation yet. And a girl like you should be out having fun.”

Katara shook her head, “I’ve been so concerned about the kids and school. I haven’t had time to think about a vacation.”

“Well, you should.” Zuko smiled as he watched Katara take a drink. “Toph or I can take the kids. We’ve done it for years. So, you let me know here in a couple of weeks when and how long you plan on being away.”

Katara bit her lip before taking another drink, “I haven’t gone on a vacation since my family and I went to the islands.” Katara shook her head, “All I feel like I remember is this really bad play.”

Both laughed, “So they still do shows?” Zuko shook his head, “I remember those being bad when I was young.”

“You're not that old,” Katara smiled and put down her glass.

Zuko huffed out a laugh, “You’re keeping your job. So, there is no reason for flattery.”

The rest of the dinner pasted by with small jokes and talking about Katara’s school and Zuko’s work. It was so pleasant that it continued with a small walk down the pier, a small bundle of flowers bought for Katara and Izumi, a small stuffed animal for Lu Ten and maybe a few butterflies in Zuko’s stomach.

+++

Katara gave a laugh at the story Lu Ten was telling when he broke out into a laugh. Katara wasn’t too sure what she was laughing about as she wrote out the formula to another math equation.

“I’m home!”

Katara did her best not breathe a sigh of relief when Lu Ten let out a squeal and ran to the front door. She bit her lip as she finished up the first part of the equation. She stood up from the table and smiled to Zuko as he walked into the kitchen.

“How was everyone’s day?” Zuko pulled at his tie and sat down his work briefcase.

“I got an A on my spelling test.” Izumi says from where she was finishing a science worksheet.

“I ate three applesauce at lunch today!” Lu Ten tugged at Zuko’s jacket.

Zuko gave his son a questioning look before shaking his head deciding he did not want to know. He looked up to Katara who began to pull things out for dinner. “And what about you?”

“Hmm?” Katara pulled out a pan from the cabinet.

“How was your day?” Zuko picked Lu Ten up and the two watched Katara move about the kitchen.

“The normal,” Katara shrugged. “Help the kids get to and from school. Scream at the computer for about two hours before finally breaking down and actually doing the homework assigned. Wait for you to get home and now I’m cooking dinner.”

“What happened with your computer?” Zuko sat Lu Ten down as he started to get wiggly.

“The same old thing.” Katara waved her hand around to dismiss the concern. “Takes forEVER to come on. And then a century for anything to load. I’m sure it has something to do with how old it is. But it still works. It will be fine.” Katara rinses off the rice before pouring it into a pan and slowly adding water. Katara dipped her finger in before covering the rice and pushing it to a burner on the back.

Zuko finally sheds his jacket and rolls up his sleeves. He pulls out a cutting board and begins to chop the few vegetables Katara has placed out. She gives a small grateful smile. He pretends his heart doesn’t skip a beat. “You can always log into the computer in the study.”

“Thanks,” Katara turns back to prepping a pan for the protein. “I might just take you up on that offer.”

When they finish dinner Katara moved to the study to work on her assignment. Lu Ten came in to give her a goodnight kiss on the cheek and went upstairs to bed. Izumi handed Katara her homework for Katara to look over before Izumi went to bed too. Katara was on her last two equations when Zuko entered the study.

Katara always did her best to maintain the employee/employer professional attitude. But when Zuko wore his robe, all thoughts of being professional went out the window. Katara’s mind would go to fantasy land and refused to return until Zuko was out of sight. And sometimes not even then. For instance, last week when they got home from their “meeting” date. Katara had dreams of being pushed against the door and smothered with kisses and sneaking into her room to finish what they started on the porch.

So, when Zuko stepped in and sat down in front of the desk, all her hard earned concentration went straight to Zuko. He was in a tight t-shirt and sweatpants, his robe was open and Katara could yet again see how un-dad bod Zuko’s dad bod was. Katara wasn’t sure when he actually worked out. Maybe he went before work when Katara was still asleep or when he left for the day, he stopped by the gym on his way to work?

Katara looked back down to her textbook. Her pencil tapping on the notebook in a nervous habit. The numbers on her page only seemed to stare back at her. She had no idea what she was even looking at anymore. Katara groaned and put down her pencil. She stretched her arms over her head and looked up at Zuko.

Zuko was already watching her over the rim of his coffee cup. “Understanding everything?”

Katara blinked a few times before lowering her arms, “Um, yeah. It’s just extremely time consuming.”

“Mmm,” Zuko took another drink from his mug. He stood up and leaned over his desk, looking down at Katara’s textbook. “I haven’t worked on a problem like this in years.”

Katara gave a soft laugh and turned the book to him. “You are more than welcome to figure out the last two problems.” She sat back in the chair and took in all of her boss.

“Ha,” Zuko picked up her pencil and notebook. “You’ll probably get these two wrongs.” He sat back down with everything to work on the equations.

+++

Zuko adjusted his tie and walked to the kitchen to get his first coffee. He paused in the living room. Katara was laid over on the couch a textbook open and sat at the edge of the couch waiting to tip over.

Zuko sighed and placed the textbook on the coffee table. He took the throw from over the arm of the couch and placed it over Katara. His fingers moved on their own to brush the hair from Katara’s face.

She looked so peaceful.

Zuko’s fingers slid from her brow to her ear down her jaw. His thumb rubbed over a soft, pink bottom lip. A soft sigh came from her lips. The warmth against his thumb made him pull back. He swallowed and leaned back from Katara.

The warm fluttering in his stomach erupted again. It was such a new feeling. He really wasn’t sure what to do with it.

Katara moaned and rolled onto her back. Zuko moved to recover Katara with the throw. He paused at the sight of tanned skin that peeked between her t-shirt and sleep shorts. He snatched his fingers back from where they reached for the smooth looking skin.

What is wrong with me?

Zuko placed the blanket back over Katara before moving around to get his coffee.

His mind seemed to keep replaying the scene in his head for the rest of the day. Zuko rubbed at the headache forming between his eyebrows as he thought about Katara again. He was really thankful for her. She was great with the kids. She did her job and completed her schoolwork. Katara was smart and funny. He enjoyed her company. Hell, Song had even noticed not too long after Katara had started working for him that there was something different. And the only logical change was Katara.

There was a small bit of warmth and nerves that developed low in his stomach again from just thinking about her.

Maybe with her upcoming vacation she had finally requested, Zuko would be able to work through this. Whatever this was.

+++

Katara went through her list as she packs her small bag. She was only going to stay with Yue. Suki said she was going to try to come see her but likely wouldn’t be able to. She closed up her bag and turned to see Zuko in the doorway. He had been very kind in taking a half day to drop her off at the airport.

Katara gave him a small smile and handed him the bag as he reached out for it, “You know if I need to move my vaca-.”

“Nope, Toph and I have it covered.” Zuko shook his head before she could even finish her sentence. He escorted her to the front door. Katara picked a few things along her way.

“I know,” Katara sighed as she looked around the house. It was clean. Katara had spent the last two days making sure everything was in order before her week vacation. “But if I need to come back early or an emergency happens. You can just-.”

Zuko opened the front door and took Katara’s hand, “We won’t need you to come back early. If an emergency happens. You will be the second person I call. I swear.” He fumbled with his keys as with the one unoccupied hand and opened the passenger door before opening the trunk. He let Katara get inside before closing her door. He places the bag in the trunk and moved around to the driver side. “I want you to enjoy your trip. You’ve earned it.”

Katara nodded and tugged at the hem of her hoodie as the car started. “I will. I just want to make sure you and the kids are doing okay.”

Zuko gave a small smile as he pulled the car out into traffic. “I’ll make sure to give you daily updates. Or Izumi will.”

“Thanks,” Katara said quietly.

Zuko reached over and patted her knee. “It’s only a week. Then you’ll be back.” Goosebumps erupted along her legs as Zuko’s hand gave a small squeeze to her knee before he returned his hand back to the steering wheel.

+++

It was only three days into the trip that Katara got a call from Izumi begging her to come home.

“Aunt Toph still can’t remember that I like my sandwiches cut in triangles!”

Katara shook her head and took a sip of her margarita. “Zum, I’ll be home soon. You can eat a few square cut sandwiches, right?”

Izumi huffed, “I really miss you.”

“Me too!” Lu Ten calls from the background.

“I really miss you both too.” Katara gave a small laugh. “I’ll see you soon okay? I’ve got to eat dinner.”

“Okay.” There were two small sighs. “Goodnight. I love you.”

“I love you both. Goodnight.” Katara hung up the phone with a deep sigh.

“Aren’t you just too cute.” Yue set another margarita glass in front of Katara. “You sound so domestic.”

“Really?” Katara sighed as she picked up the new glass.

“You really seem to like the kids. And your still in school. I’m really proud of you.” Yue took a drink from her glass. “Now, tell me more about this ‘Dad’.”

Katara shook her head with a laugh, “Zuko.”

“Oooh, that’s his name?” Yue leaned against the bar.

“He’s great,” Katara felt a small flush but decided to blame it on the alcohol. “And cute. But mostly good. He’s some bigwig business man that loves his children. I can tell he wishes he could be home more with them.”

“Awe, he sounds sweet.”

“He’s really cute too.” Katara took another drink from her glass. “But I think he only thinks I’m his nanny.”

“Kinky.” Yue giggled.

Katara rolled her eyes, “I just wished I knew if I even have a chance.”

-*-*-

“Why don’t you grow a pair and ask?” Toph rolled her eyes at Zuko.

“Toph!” Zuko reached over and put his hands over Izumi’s ears.

Izumi blinked up at him before stirring the soup.

“What?” Toph shrugged. “You should just ask her out officially if you’re feeling this way.”

Zuko shook his head. “What do I have to give someone ten years younger than me?”

“That’s ten extra years of experience anyone her age has.” Zuko glared over his shoulder at her. “What? That was vague enough.” Zuko uncovered Izumi’s ears in order to flip the grilled cheese as Toph continued on. “Obviously, she loves the kids. I mean who would stick around with this little troublemaker.” Toph rubbed at Lu Ten’s head as he walked through the kitchen on his gaming consol. Lu Ten slapped at Toph’s hand.

“Plus, she makes the best pasta. And we don’t have to eat grilled cheese every night.” Izumi grumbled as she stirred the soup.

“I thought you liked my grilled cheese?” Zuko gave a small pout.

+++

Katara rolled her suitcase down the small hallway. Zuko had texted to let her know that he was waiting for her near baggage claim. Bit her lip and thought of what Yue had told her.

“When you see him next, pull up your big girl panties and tell him you think he’s hot! Or you know just kiss him.” Yue filled another glass for herself. “If he pushes you off. You know he doesn’t feel anything.” Yue shrugged her shoulders. “Now let’s really drink.” She placed a vodka bottle on the bar.

Katara muttered through what she would say when she saw him during the whole plane ride. The man next to her kept giving her strange looks. She thought she had it down. Until she rounded the corner and saw the sign.

Will You

Be My

Girlfriend?

Katara stopped mid-step as she read through the question held up by the three most important people in her life. Lu Ten was shaking so much the ‘Be My’ was almost hard to read. Izumi waved at her wildly. Zuko stood still and golden eyes took her in.

The man that was sitting next to her scoffed as he walked by. “He beat you to it.”

Katara stepped up to the small family, “What’s this?”

“We were all so excited to see you!” Lu Ten broke first and wrapped his arms around her.

“We missed you!” Izumi wrapped her arms around Katara too.

Katara pat the children’s heads. She looked up to Zuko, “And?”

“And,” Zuko stepped up to her. “I’ve done a lot of thinking. This week was so lonely without you. You are not allowed to take another trip like that.”

“Yeah! We had grilled cheese three nights in a row.” Izumi said into Katara’s sweater.

“And Dad doesn’t know how to make thunder cake.” Lu Ten pouted.

“Ahem,” Zuko cleared his throat as he put his hand over Katara’s in Lu Ten’s hair. “I was doing a lot of thinking. About how well you are with the kids. And keeping us all together.” Lu Ten and Izumi stepped back. “Which made me think that maybe, if you want, that you’d be okay with being my girlfriend?”

“I-,” Katara gave a small smile. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Zuko chuckled. “Only if you’re okay with that.”

“Yes.” Katara gave a large smile and nodded. Zuko smiled too and wrapped her in a hug. Two other sets of arms wrapped around her as well. “I’d be very okay with that.”

#zutara #zutara fanfiction #thanks for the request #single parent zuko #nanny katara #nanny/single parent au

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joylessnightsky · 4 years

Text

As a dyslexic person…

You know, often times people hurt us without intending to. Us just meaning humans in general. We’re a stupid species, and we make mistakes. That’s okay. And everyone’s feelings are different, I know. Still, sometimes I have to really wonder how people don’t realize how what they are saying is hurtful.

And this post is half a vent and half a cautionary thing. If you ever talk to a dyslexic person, please be mindful of these things. Whether or not they’ll actually be hurt by some of these is not for me to tell you but for them, but you should still be mindful of it. Conversation and stuff, works with people of all kinds, you know?

If you have dyslexia yourself, please feel free to add on with your own experiences. And please read the post yourself, too. Because, as I already said, sometimes we hurt each other without wanting to, because different things hurt different people.

Now, let’s get to it:

1) A lot of the time people will say something like “That’s great for someone with dyslexia!” And I know they mean to compliment me. I know they mean to say that it is an accomplishment. And it probably is. But by saying that, you’re actually devaluating my accomplishment. It’s basically the same problem as if someone said “You’re so nice for a man.” or “That’s such an impressive career for a woman.” There’s a serious difference between giving a compliment and giving a compliment in relation to something about you.

I worked for the reading speed I have. I worked for the capability to write with so little misspellings that I could pass as just another student. I worked for being able to read a text I haven’t read before. I worked for being able to read out loud to the class without making an utter fool out of me. I worked, for years, about an hour a day, in therapy and at home, until my head hurt form the effort, despite the frustration, despite the insults, despite questioning if anything would ever actually help. So the last thing I need is for you to tell me that my efforts and my work make me “good for a dyslexic person”. Tell me I did good. I’d love to hear that. Tell me my work can be seen. But don’t remind me that my efforts will only ever be seen in the context of my diagnosis. At one point, I managed to become one of the top students in my literary class when it came to spelling in exams. And I still only got praised with that phrase. It’s honestly gotten to the point where the compliment makes me feel bad about myself. It’s not a compliment anymore! Just… Don’t. Don’t.

2) One time I was talking with my teacher about how the others would call me pretentious and say I only relied on my diagnosis and the “advantages” I supposedly got (they meant the stuff that was supposed to make my disadvantages less bad, I think). And she said that I shouldn’t take it to heart, that they didn’t know what they talked about and “whoever says someone like you shouldn’t be here is stupid.” A little context, we have a system with different forms of schools, the one I choose to attend is the form with basically all advanced classes.

Now, in on itself, this was a really great thing to say. The reason it’s still stuck with me years later in a negative sense is because no one had, in fact, questioned my position at said school. I had never even heard anyone say that dyslexic people being at this form of school was weird or anything. Never. The first time the idea that I had to prove myself capable of belonging there had been placed in my head at that very moment. She didn’t meant to do that, I know she didn’t. And that makes it all the worse, because she was trying to make things better and she was so kind about it. I can’t even be angry at her for planting that thought in my head! And the way she so casually said that, as if it was a known fact that people would think I didn’t belong there, as if it was only natural for people to say something like that to me - even if she said they’d be stupid and wrong to do so - really hurt. A lot.

So all I’m asking is, please check what was said to someone. Don’t assume what they might have heard others say about them. If you’re wrong, knowing that people could possibly think that on top of everything else can feel… icky.

3) I’ve meet a lot of ignorant people in my life. We all have, haven’t we? And one of those people was my teacher for one horrible year. I pity everyone who ever has to live through her classes at this point. Why do people who can’t respect others have a mind of their own become educators again?

Anyways, I’ve posted about this before, but she was sure that she knew better than me what dyslexia meant, as well as that dyslexia had to be the same as reading and writing disorder and I had my facts wrong. Surprising no one she never really cared much that I couldn’t do the things my classmates could do. And one day she had the nerve to tell me that “class is over and you should have been able to write that down in time if you’d actually worked. So, if you really need these notes, just ask someone for them. I’m sure even you can manage that, right?” and take the notes down from the board. She didn’t have to do that, and she had put those notes there in the last minute. I’d told her they were too small for me to read and that I couldn’t tell the letters apart like that. She hadn’t cared. Yeah… That was one of the few times a teacher made me cry in the bathroom.

So, even though I can’t believe I have to say that, don’t assume you know what someone can or can’t do, and listen to them when they talk about their experience. If they say they can’t do something, they can’t. And no matter how much you think to know about a disability, when someone lives with it, they know what it’s like in a way that you could never know.

4) I’ve also had a math teacher, and he was great! One of those teachers that just make sense and that actually really care about their students and them understanding things rather than learning them like vocab cards. He was the only math teacher who I’ve ever felt comfortable with enough to confess that measurements can be tricky on some days. Does it say “cm”, “dm”, “km” or even just “m” there? Is it “L”, “cL” or “dL”? “g” or “kg”? He was really nice about it and we made a deal: In every class test I got the measurement would not change within one task. Helped a lot. And yet…

Students talk. They noticed. Because what my teacher had done, you see is adjust just my class test. I didn’t need to switch between measurements, the others did. and I see why that wasn’t considered fair. It really isn’t, because that doesn’t have much to do with reading or writing. Yet the issue at the bottom was still there. What I’m saying is that if you change a task so that a dyslexic person can work with it, don’t change it just for them. Especially not if the task itself changes then. Dear teachers, if you’re reading this, do it for everyone or not at all. Yes it helps if you do that, but no it isn’t fair if it’s just for one person. And I honestly still feel like I cheated after hearing what my classmates said.

5) Sometimes people will tell me that it’s impressive that I work against the dyslexia, you know, did the therapy and everything (even though many people just can’t afford it and would do it if they could). In that context a little sentence often fell that I just hate from the bottom of my heart: “If only everyone would do as much. It’s great that you don’t just rely on your diagnosis to take care of everything.”

First of all, I was lucky. I was lucky my health insurance covered not only one but two therapies. It didn’t for my brothers, my parents had to pay for that themselves. And that is not cheap! Not everyone can afford to do therapy. Not everyone has the chance to do therapy. That the therapy worked as well as it did was, again, luck. That my dyslexia was on the lighter side to begin with was also luck. That I knew I was at risk and got tested early on, so that I was diagnosed at an age where a real difference could be made through developmental psychology was also luck. Don’t ever make the mistake to think that one person who got lucky can be used as the bar.

Secondly, everyone’s dyslexia is different. You can’t compare mine to other people’s struggles. Again, my form of dyslexia isn’t that bad. Both my brothers have it worse. Sure, it might not be the easiest to deal with and it’s not the bare minimum for the diagnosis, but others have it worse than I do. And they have different symptoms. I can’t even deal with most of mine, they are just easy to conceal until I have a better day. We’re not all the same, so don’t compare us in a way that makes it look like we are.

Third, a lot was my own research. No one told me that there is a fond that was developed for dyslexic people to read easier (”OpenDyslexic”, if you are interested. It’s free to download). No one told me about all the side effects, no one told me “hey, this might actually be because of your dyslexia, too”. No one told me having subtitles on in a language I already spoke would help remembering the spelling of words. No one told me how to articulate things. I didn’t get an awful lot of help along the way, you know? Keep in mind, I come from an environment in which I got more help than on average. And you saying that is basically pushing the responsibility onto us. You made a world in which we have little to no access to help, and you’re shaming us for not finding any.

Last but everything but least, you make it sound like the treatment and the way we handle this is what makes the dyslexia valid. If you’re really thinking so, you’re wrong. Like, really wrong. I chose to work my ass off to teach my brain how to keep up. I managed to find information on it. I was lucky to get the possibility to do so, because of the way you are handling this. None of that makes my diagnosis valid. It doesn’t, because it already is. My struggles, my feelings about it, my experiences, my symptoms are what makes this valid. The diagnosis, dyslexia? That just gave it a name.

6) “That might be hard for you to do. Are you sure you can handle this?” I’m glad that you are concerned on my behalf. But as someone who also has a lot of anxiety and has lived with this shit in my mind for my entire life, I can guarantee you that I do, in fact know my limits. I have lost many opportunities in my life because I wasn’t sure I could handle it, or because I couldn’t tell beforehand if I would have a “good day” or a “bad day”.

I’m aware of the risk. I decided to take the risk, or am in the process of decided whether or not to take that risk. You aren’t helping. If you are concerned, offer to help me should I struggle. If you can’t help me, offer support. If you can neither help nor support me, I don’t know you well enough for you to be meddling with my choices so you should just leave me alone.

If you’ve made it this far, thank you so much for taking your time to read this. I hope this’ll help. And if you do make a dyslexic person uncomfortable or hurt them with something you say or do, please remember that that will happen, no matter what someone’s dealing with. Even my brothers will hurt me sometimes and I will hurt them sometimes, even though we are all dyslexic and have known each other for literally all our lives, because we all experience this differently. And that’s okay. You can’t always know what will hurt someone and it’s not you job to read their mind and figure it out on your own either. Important is that you recognize you’ve made a mistake and that you make a conscious effort to avoid said mistake in the future. And remember: Sometimes it’s not what you’re trying to say but rather how you’re saying it that hurts. Formulations can make a huge difference.

#dyslexia #dislexic #mental health #what to avoid #please add on to this #long post #I decided not to add a cut because I don't want to cut any of this off #So it's a bit longer to scroll past #sorry about that

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surveys-at-your-service · 4 years

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Survey #303

“if i can’t be loved, then i’ll be hated”

What color are your glasses, if applicable? Black. Candy corn or conversation hearts? They're both gross, don't make me pick between garbage. Do you own a lot of earrings? Not really after I weeded them out before moving. What did your backpack in high school look like? I dare say I had the dopest backpack of them all. It looked like a massive Ouija board, and the zipper was the planchet (sp?). Have you ever been to a rave? Nah. What is your favorite art medium? I have a particular fondness of oil paintings. They tend to look so smooth, and you can achieve incredible realism with them. How far away is the nearest hospital from you? Not even five minutes, I think. Who was the last person you visited in a hospital? My mom. What is your favorite car color? Pink, duh. How did you learn to type? We actually had a class specifically for typing in middle school. What style of wedding dress do you want? I don't have that set in stone yet, but I really do love ballgown dresses with long trains as well as a-lines with a moderate train. I love a lot, except really for mermaid dresses. Do you fit into any stereotype, or are you non-stereotypical? I don't know if I fit perfectly into any and really don't care. Would you want your first child to have your hair color? ???? I don't care about their hair lol?????? It would depend on the hypothetical father, in which case I'd probably find it cute, but this is so, so unimportant. Do you enjoy writing in cursive? Yeah, it just feels good and flowy to me. What is your favorite hair color? Natural? Probably blonde with natural darker undertones throughout. I like blonde hair because it's far easier to dye, haha. Now, if we're including DYED hair, rose gold or pastel pink is *chefs kiss* What is your favorite eye color? Sapphire blue, probz. Would you put your birthday on a different day if you could? Nah, it's fine where it is. What holiday is your birthday closest to? Valentine's. Do you vent on social media a lot? NOOOOOOOO. I barely post ANYTHING about myself on social media because I feel like I'm being annoying, self-absorbed, find anything I do actually interesting, or don't want people to think I'm a whiner. All I ever really do on social media is share or reblog funny shit, things I love, stuff I find relatable or inspirational, educational, important for whatever reason, etc... Do you have abusive parents? I am very thankful to say no. Is your house haunted? Doesn't seem like it. What's your favorite thing to watch on YouTube? I'm in a real WoW-related phase lately... Watching my favorite streamers, gold farming guides, and other various aspects of the game. What are five health problems that you have? I talk about the mental issues enough, so I guess I'll talk about physical stuff here. Uhhh I have very low blood pressure (it's a med side effect), I have extremely weak legs following muscle atrophy, I have bad tremors, especially in my hands (amplified by medication once again), maybe TMI but we're adults here and it's a legit issue that I have chronic and severe conspitation, aaaand then of course I have hyperhidrosis (excessive sweating) to a fucking outrageous and also humiliating degree. Ooooonce again as a prescription side effect. This answer made meds sound kinda bad, I know, but really, I'd rather have the will to live and just have to deal with these than want to die everyday and not. Do you have surgery coming up? No, let's keep it that way until I lose enough weight and when I am 110% getting loose skin removal. Which family member(s) do you look the most like? My sisters, ig. People say my mom also, but I honestly don't see it. Have you ever cried while watching a YouTube video? Yeah, usually just in let's plays, but it's happened for other reasons. Are you missing a website that just shut down? Nah, none that I know of. NO. FUCKING WAIT. So, when my laptop was fixed, a LOT of shit was wiped from it, and that included all of my goddamn Lightroom editing presets. The site they were from no longer exists, so I had to use a different, pretty sub-par one to install at least a few because it helps me get a start on editing the photograph and leaning towards the "vibe" I want before spending like 15+ minutes tuning it myself. Would you be a barefoot bride? No. Which would you rather name your daughter: Eliana, Echo, Emerald, or Ellery? Ohhh, I like these. I think I prefer "Eliana," but "Echo" is a close second. "Ellery" is nice, but it sounds too much like "celery" to name my kid that lmao. Which would you rather name your son: Maverick, Matthew, or Moses? Ugh, none, honestly. But "Matthew" wins. When was the last time you gave a speech? Like a *legit" speech? Probably not since uhhh... I guess when I argued my disability case at court? Does that even count? Have you ever been in a stampede? Well, never seen this'n in a survey before, so good job, lol. No. If you were a fairy, what color would you like your wings to be? It would depend on what I wore, really. And my hair. But probably light pink. Would you rather name your son Storm, Skylar, Sorin, or Solomon? "Sorin." "Skylar" is SO Southern, and "Solomon" sounds like the creepy kid all his classmates avoid and I ain't putting my kid through that. Did you read a devotional this morning? Not my jam. Would you rather be named Arizona, Alaska, Cali, or Georgia? Hm... "Alaska" is actually kinda cool???? And I'm white as fuck so lol????? I wouldn't mind to nickname of "Ally," anyway. Are you repulsed by ugly reptiles? lololol bro get out Did all your friends know about your first crush or was it a secret? I was definitely secretive and shy about it when I first started getting crushes. Do you ever feel insecure about going out without makeup? I feel insecure either way, so... How many different natural hair colors are there in your immediate family? So, this is a hard question to answer. My mom was born with brown hair, but it darkened to almost black; only her daughter Katie inherited that. By some genetic magic, Dad had blond hair as a kid, but it also turned black. Like... how?????? I was born with dirty blonde hair like him, and mine turned an average brown with age. My immediate sisters have always had brown hair. What is your favorite online game? World of Warcraft is ballin'. Would you ever want to be famous and sign autographs? Ha, the idea of signing autographs is awful... I can't physically write very long without my carpal tunnel flaring up. Do you like your shirt to be loose or tight? LOOSE. Especially as a bigger person, tight shirts are just really uncomfortable. What is your favorite Spanish name? I don't know nearly enough to answer this. Would you rather visit Asia or Europe? I think Asia is, in general, more interesting and prettier as a whole, but I guess I'm drawn to European culture being more like my own and there are specific locations I'm interested in, like Germany or Scotland. So to answer the question, I guess Europe wins. Are there any Asians in your family? I don't believe so. Have you ever had colored braces? Haha yeah, I did that when I had them. Do you take birth control pills? Yes, just for period cramps. Without them, they can be immobilizing for me. If you live in the USA: do you feel free and safe? Ha, no. Well, not *entirely*. Have you ever been sick on your birthday? I was recovering from the stomach virus, if that counts. As in I still got sick the day before and felt iffy on my actual bday. 17th, I think? Is talking about your past painful for you? Yes. Are you a member of any support groups online? I'm a member of The Mighty site, if that counts. When I'm feeling very, very sound of mind and helpful without all the negativity being a detriment to myself, I do like going on there and trying to help or comfort people. Have you ever called a suicide hotline? Yes, and the line was busy, and that's when I decided I was a goner. Do you ever fantasize about revenge? I uhhhhh... sometimes. What's a movie you would recommend to someone who never watches movies? Ohhh, that's hard. I don't really watch movies either, and I'm trying to think of one that essentially anyone would like, so hm. Oh, Coco is absolutely a possibility. That movie touched me so, so deeply and is high on my favorites list. It's impossible to not feel the emotions. Do you want to have grandkids? Hell, I don't want kids. Do you want to be an aunt or uncle? I already am one, and I love being an aunt. Who was your favorite Spice Girl? I don't remember their names or characters in general. Did you make a lot of home videos growing up? I mean *I* didn't, but Mom filmed quite a few. Do you enjoy babysitting? NO. What's an unpopular opinion that you have? Avoiding some political ones, uhhhh. OH. HERE'S ONE. THE SCENE AESTHETIC IS FUCKING CUTE AND NOT CRINGEY AND YOU CAN FIGHT ME ABOUT IT. Are you attracted to the opposite gender, same gender, or both? Both are A+. Was your first crush on someone of the same gender or opposite? Opposite. As a kid, I didn't even fathom the concept that women could date women. What is something you'll never eat again? Why? Brussel sprouts. Fucking disgusting. What is currently happening that is scaring you? Besides the very obvious answer of "Covid," I worry about my mom a lot. She's so weakened after all the chemo and meds and can do literally less than I can without heavily breathing and sweating. I just worry a lot that cancer will return sooner than we hope; I don't want it to EVER come back, but doctors say it is very, very likely at one point or another because she was so very close to Stage 4. What would be your personal hell? Being completely and entirely isolated forever while somewhere hot and humid, lol. And play one of my trigger songs on repeat eternally. What made the "weird kid" at your school weird? There was this poor guy named Alfred that was VERY clearly depressed out of his mind, and I heard him speak maybe once through all of high school, and the entire class couldn't believe it. He always sat way in the back and never smiled. I wonder how he is nowadays. What is a word you personally find offensive? "Retarded" personally offends me the most when misused and spoken as an insult. What instantly puts you to sleep? Now that is HARD to do; I have a ridiculously hard time going to sleep. The easiest way though would probably be me being drained from an emotional breakdown. That is so exhausting that I'm capable of crashing pretty fast and hard. What song is in a language you don't speak, but you love it anyway? I adore Rammstein, so there's plenty. I'll probably say "Donaukinder" is their best. What is something you would like to do if you weren’t judged for doing it? I keep that I RP a complete secret in my "real" life for this reason unless it's like, pried out of me. What's a movie you think everyone should watch? Why that one? Johnny Got His Gun. See how goddamn disgusting war is. What was the most unexpected good thing that's ever happened to you? Ha, realizing I was bisexual after once being homophobic. What is the funniest fact you know? Oh man, I know a lot of random trivia shit, really, so it's hard to say. Maybe that quokkas throw their offspring at predators to distract and escape from them... As awful as that is, c'mon, you gotta admit it's funny and shocking with just how adorable they are. What was your 'mic drop' moment? Oh, I don't know. Possibly when I publicly came out as bi on Facebook and made it abundantly clear that I gave no shits about some homophobic friends and family & I was beyond willing to let anyone's ass go over it. What's the kindest way a stranger has treated you? I remember as a kid at McDonald's, the woman in front of our car paid for our food; apparently seeing a mom, dad, and three kids in a van was enough that she wanted to just be kind and give us a smile. We have no idea who she was, never saw her face or anything, she was just a sweet woman. What is the biggest design flaw of your body? Okay, I'm going to let go of all hatred for my body weight-wise and just think of this as from a strictly natural design perspective, in which case I'd say my toes are too small. What age are you afraid of turning and why? 30, because I'm terrified of getting there and seeing I've possibly gone nowhere. What is the strangest thing you have ever felt? I'm keeping this question in just because I think there could be some interesting answers for others, but I'm witholding my answer because nobody wants or needs to know lmao. What makes someone immediately unlikable? Acting better than others and belittling. Who's a villain you sympathize with and why? D A R K I P L I E R because of his origins and overall purpose and just simply existing. What is something you regret to NOT have done? I have this oddly weird regret of not going like, all-all the way with He Who Shall Not Be Named????? Idk why though????? Considering I loved him way too much and I was a reckless and impulsive person who probably at some point would have wound up accidentally pregs????? What a fuckin trip that woulda been. What movie changed your life for the better? None have really "changed my life." What book you think should be directed as a film? Oh, idk. Most I can think of have been. Of all the decades you've lived in, which one have you liked best? The 2000s, probably. A carefree kid. How are you doing today? I'm exhausted. While out with Mom and my sisters yesterday, we got behind a van whose driver was obviously drunk or high off his goddamn ass, and he was swerving EVERYWHERE, nearly shoving so many cars off the road. Mom called 911 to get in contact with highway patrol to report his dumb fucking ass in. I was having an absolute panic attack and cried quietly like the entire 45 or so minute drive home. I was just so, so upset because this is why I don't fucking drive, and I felt like I'd made my sister (who was driving) mad because she had to firmly tell me I had to calm down (I was hyperventilating and talking to myself to try to calm down) if she was going to focus and keep us safe. She later ensured me she wasn't mad, but I still wasn't the same the entire rest of the day. Anyway, I slept hard last night but had two nightmares, so I'm still really tired today. I'm trying to keep myself really distracted. What's something your relatives don't know about you? A whole lot really, considering beyond my very immediate family, I see almost nobody because they live many states away. What's something your parents did, which you have sworn never to do? Mom would spank us or slap an arm pretty hard if my sisters or I misbehaved or "disrespected" her by "talking back." I'm not having kids, but I would never, ever, ever, put my hands on them in any way that isn't loving. You do not teach children via inflicting fear. I also have this probably overly strong aversion to beer because that's what Dad always drank as an alcoholic. I'll probably never try it, not that I really want to because it smells awful. What's the most annoying thing your pet does? I feel like "annoying" is the wrong word for this, but Roman (my cat) can be incredibly demanding of attention and to lie on me when I'm on the laptop in bed, and sometimes I just want space and be able to clearly see the screen, haha. He will legit meow like a baby and gently swat my arm sometimes if I try to keep him back. Heeee usually gets his way. As for Venus (snek), she does nothing "annoying" either, but rather a bit concerning to a snake mom: she is usually very slow to find and strike her food. I feed her frozen/thawed mice, and she will first slither around her entire cage, tongue flicking and clearly looking for her food, even though I always place it atop the same spot on her hide, and she can have her head RIGHT beside it and still do nothing. She ultimately generally eats (as a ball python though, she's a picky eater and will occasionally reject a meal), but I of course wonder why she's odd about dinnertime... As a champagne, she does have the notorious "spider gene" in her, which can cause neurological issues, but idk if something like this could be related.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''rise rebel resist'' by otep

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demisexual-pride · 5 years

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Demisexual 101

What is a Demisexual?

Demisexuality is a sexual orientation in which someone feels sexual attraction only to people with whom they have an emotional bond. Most demisexuals feel sexual attraction rarely compared to the general population, and some have little to no interest in sexual activity. Keep reading to understand more about this orientation.

What is the emotional bond demisexuals need for sexual attraction?

It varies based on the demisexual’s personal experiences and is slightly different for everyone. Emotional intimacy is a main component, usually, so some demisexuals find themselves attracted to close friends or romantic partners. Other components may include familiarity with the person and knowledge about them (ex: learning about aspects of their personality).

However, forming an emotional bond doesn’t guarantee that sexual attraction will happen. It is just a prerequisite for it to occur at all. The length of time required to develop an emotional bond may vary. For some demisexuals, it’s after several years of being close friends with someone, and for others, it might be a short but intense experience, such as traveling abroad for a week with them.

Isn’t it normal to only want sex after getting to know someone?

There’s a difference between feeling sexually attracted to someone and wanting to have sex with them. Sexual attraction isn’t something you can control either you have sexual feelings for someone or not. You can’t force it to happen and you can’t force it to go away, so you don’t have a choice in the matter. Sexual behavior, on the other hand, is something you can choose to participate in, or not.

Most people on the non-asexual side of the spectrum feel sexual attraction regardless of whether or not they have a close emotional bond with someone. They may have sexual feelings for attractive people on the street, classmates or coworkers they’ve barely spoken to, or celebrities. However, they may choose to wait to have sex for a variety of reasons: it might not be feasible or appropriate, they want to make sure the person is respectful and kind, it’s against their religious beliefs, they only want to have sex in a romantic relationship, etc. The difference is that demisexuals don’t start out with these sexual feelings at all.

How does demisexuality relate to asexuality and the asexual spectrum?

Asexuality is a sexual orientation in which one feels little to no sexual attraction or interest in sex (the former definition is more widely used, but some asexuals use the latter definition. Both are valid and accepted.) Demisexuals are considered to be on the asexual spectrum, meaning they are closely aligned with asexuality, but not quite asexual. The asexual spectrum has asexuality on one end and non-asexuality on the other end.

Demisexuals are considered part of the asexual community because for the most part, they don’t feel sexual attraction. Many demisexuals are only attracted to a handful of people in their lifetimes, or even just one person. Many demisexuals are also uninterested in sex, so they have a lot in common with asexuals.

The thing that makes them different from asexuals is that they are capable of feeling sexual attraction it’s just that it only happens after they form a deep emotional bond with someone.

How do demisexuals feel about sex?

According to the 2014 AVEN Census, two thirds of demisexuals are uninterested in and/or repulsed by sex. However, there is a significant portion that enjoys it. Demisexuals have a variety of feelings about sex and other sexual activities, like masturbating and watching porn, so it’s hard to make statements about the group as a whole. All feelings about sex are valid in a demisexual identity: the only thing that defines demisexuals is that they only feel sexual attraction after forming an emotional bond.

Whether or not they feel sexually attracted to someone or not, they can choose to have sex too. They might want to have sex in order to get pregnant, to see what it’s like, or some other reason.

Why do demisexuals need a label?

The label helps demisexuals form a sense of community and a stronger sense of self. Through this label, they learn that there are others like them out there, and that there’s a community to support them. In this community, demisexuals can talk to others who share the same experiences, share advice on navigating a very sexual world, and find emotional support. The community unites around this label, which helps its members feel more secure in their identities.

Many demisexuals grow up feeling different from those around them. Most people have their first instance of sexual attraction in their preteen years. From that point on, sex becomes a topic of curiosity and interest for them, and they eventually look forward to pursuing it. For children and teens in school, there is a lot of talk about sex what it’s like, what it’ll be like, etc. This becomes more prevalent as they approach college and early adulthood.

Demisexuals often feel alienated by these conversations because they aren’t interested in sex, they don’t find people sexually attractive, or both. When the conversation turns to hot celebrities, for example, demisexuals may feel confused, and wonder what it is their friends see and feel. They wonder if they will eventually feel it too, and some even end up feeling “broken.” Knowing that there are others like them helps demisexuals feel less alone.

Am I Demisexual if..

The only thing that makes you a demisexual is if you feel sexual attraction only to people with whom you have a close bond. Unfortunately, doubt is part of the demisexual experience, and many questioning people find themselves wondering if something about them means they can’t identify as demisexual. Here are some common behaviors and characteristics which do not invalidate demisexuality.

I masturbate.

Some demisexuals enjoy masturbating for various reasons: because it feels good, because it’s relaxing or helps them sleep, or because for them, it’s a body maintenance thing. Masturbation doesn’t involve other people, so it definitely doesn’t invalidate demisexuality.

I enjoy having sex.

Sexual attraction is different from sexual behavior. You can have sex even if you’re not sexually attracted to the person, after all. Demisexuals who enjoy sex, who comprise about one third of demisexuals, enjoy it for a variety of reasons: it feels good, they like feeling intimacy with their partner, they have kinks they want to indulge, and many more. It is totally okay to identify as demisexual if you enjoy having sex.

I am repulsed by sex.

About one third of demisexuals find sex repulsive, in varying degrees. They are disgusted by it, want nothing to do with it, or don’t like to see depictions of it. Some even find nudity and genitalia repulsive. Even if they feel sexual attraction, some demisexuals never want to act on that attraction. This is a valid reaction, and you can definitely identify as demisexual if you are sex repulsed.

I watch porn.

Porn is often just fodder for the imagination. Some people are visual and require stimulation when they masturbate. It doesn’t mean they’re sexually attracted to the porn actors, it just means they’re aroused by depictions of sex. Many demisexuals who watch porn like to imagine themselves in the situations depicted. There are demisexuals who enjoy porn in the community.

I have sexual fantasies.

Fantasies are a way for our brains to try out scenarios we might never want to act on. Fantasizing about something doesn’t mean you’d want it in real life. Think of it this way: if a straight girl fantasized about having sex with a girl, would that make her bisexual? No! It would just mean she thought about having sex with a girl and maybe it seemed appealing in her head. Demisexuals, like other people, fantasize about all sorts of things, and none of these fantasies invalidates their identities.

I like reading erotic fiction.

Just like with porn, some people need stimulation when they masturbate, or just like reading steamy fanfiction. Again, it doesn’t mean they’re attracted to the people involved: it just means they are aroused by depictions of sex. Or maybe they just find the idea of their favorite characters having sex amusing.

I find celebrities or fictional characters attractive.

There are different types of attraction, and many demisexuals find celebrities aesthetically attractive. Maybe you see a beautiful painting and just want to keep looking at it that doesn’t mean you want to have sex with it! It’s possible to feel the same way about people.

Alternately, if you’re a hardcore fan and have immersed yourself in the life of your particular celebrity or character, you might feel that you’ve developed a kind of emotional intimacy with them. Perhaps you’ve learned about the meaning behind their song lyrics from interviews, or learned about their innermost thoughts from one of their novels. That’s a kind of emotional connection which can lead to sexual attraction.

I have kinks or fetishes.

There are kinky demisexuals out there. It’s possible to enjoy tying someone up or wearing leather without a sexual component. Professional dominatrixes don’t have sex with their clients, after all it’s all about the eroticism one can create without involving sexual attraction or sex. It’s also possible to enjoy BDSM as a way to become more emotionally intimate with someone. Of course, some demisexuals do enjoy the sexual aspect of kink, and participate in it for that reason, regardless of whether they’re sexually attracted to their partner or not.

I’m celibate due to my religious beliefs.

Your religion and your demisexuality are two different things. You are demisexual by nature and celibate by choice. It’s just that these two things coincide. It doesn’t mean you’re not actually demisexual. It just means that you don’t necessarily have to actively fight sexual urges like other, non-demisexual members of your religion.

I am disabled or chronically ill.

Maybe you’re worried that your disability or illness is what’s causing your demisexuality. Maybe you’re worried that if you weren’t disabled or ill, you wouldn’t actually be demisexual. It can be hard to untangle these things, but don’t worry it’s not necessary. In the asexual community, disabled or chronically ill demisexuals are totally welcome and their identities accepted as valid. It is totally okay to identify as demisexual if this applies to you. It doesn’t make you less of a demisexual or a fake demisexual or anything like that. All demisexual identities are real.

I have experienced sexual assault or abuse.

Some demisexual victims of sexual assault or abuse find themselves struggling with trusting partners or feeling negatively about sex, even if they didn’t before. Or maybe they were demisexual before, and are now doubting whether they really were. Whatever the case, demisexual survivors are welcome in the community, regardless of their experiences. Being a demisexual survivor is a valid identity, and you will find support from all corners of the community.

I have depression, anxiety, or another mental illness, or am on the autism spectrum.

Same as above regardless of why you identify as demisexual, your identity is valid. Neurodivergent demisexuals are fully welcome in the community, and may use the label as long as they find it useful for understanding themselves and feeling secure in their identities.

What Demisexuality is Not

Many people mistake demisexuality for other sexual behaviors, like abstaining from sex until marriage or simply being “sensible” about sex. However, demisexuality is not a choice: it is a sexual orientation. And like other sexual orientations, it is a distinct pattern of attraction, not a pattern of behavior. Here are some common misconceptions regarding demisexuality and what you can say to people who bring up these arguments.

Only having sex with people you love.

Demisexuals can choose to have sex with whomever they please, whether they love them or not. That doesn’t make them any more or less demisexual. Many non-demisexuals only choose to have sex with people they love, and that doesn’t make them demisexual. Demisexuality is when sexual attraction that is, sexual feelings directed at a person only occurs after an emotional bond is formed with said person. Whether the demisexual chooses to have sex with them or not, and whatever reason they may have for making that choice, has absolutely nothing to do with the definition of demisexuality.

Abstaining from sex until marriage.

Just like the above misconception, many people think demisexuals are waiting until marriage. However, sexual abstinence is usually a religiously motivated choice, and has nothing to do with whether the abstinent person feels sexual attraction or not. Many people feel sexual attraction, but choose to wait until marriage because of their values. This does not mean they are demisexual. On the other hand, there are many demisexuals who choose to engage in premarital sex.

A moral, sensible, or noble decision.

Patterns of sexual attraction are not decisions, because you cannot choose who you are sexually attracted to. Demisexuals do not feel sexual attraction until they form a close emotional bond with someone. This has nothing to do with their morals; it’s just how they are wired to operate and there is nothing they can do about it. Sexual orientations are not sensible or noble; they just are. People who choose to abstain from sex due to their morals are actively making the decision to not act on their sexual feelings. Demisexuals can still choose to engage in premarital or casual sexual activity, and many do.

How most people, or women, operate normally.

Most people feel sexual attraction far more often than demisexuals do and without the close emotional bond. They may be sexually attracted to strangers, celebrities, or people they don’t know well. However, they may choose not to act on that sexual attraction. Demisexuals, on the other hand, don’t have sexual feelings in the first place. They only have sexual feelings for people with whom they have formed a close emotional bond, which is usually not a lot of people. But anyone, regardless of sexual orientation, can choose to have sex with someone regardless of whether or not they are attracted to them.

Myths About Demisexuals

Because it’s a little-known sexual orientation, there are a lot of myths surrounding demisexuality. Here are some of the most common ones I’ve found.

Demisexuals are slut-shaming and judging other people for having casual sex.

Demisexuality is a sexual orientation, not an opinion or moral judgement. The only thing demisexuals have in common is feeling sexual attraction only after an emotional bond is formed. This is not a choice, unlike an opinion, which you can choose to hold. Demisexuals as individuals have various opinions on casual sex, and a few may even participate in it themselves.

Demisexuality is fake.

“Demisexual” is just a word for a certain pattern of attraction which already occurs. There is nothing fake about it. The experiences of demisexuals are real, and they just happen to have a word which functions as a shorthand for describing those experiences (which is what words do, after all). Demisexuals find their pattern of attraction significantly different enough from that of most people that they use a word to describe it.

Demisexuals aren’t oppressed, and just want a label so they can make that claim.

I have honestly never seen a demisexual claim that they are oppressed. Most demisexuals are just pleased that they have found a word and community which describes them and helps them feel less alone or broken. I’ve mostly seen demisexuals saying that they feel misunderstood or broken, not oppressed. In any case, claiming a label isn’t the same thing as claiming oppression: heterosexual is a label, but heterosexuals aren’t oppressed.

Demisexuals are just straight people trying to be queer.

You’re forgetting about the demisexuals who experience same-gender attraction, the demisexuals who don’t experience any attraction, the transgender demisexuals, the nonbinary demisexuals, and many others. There is an intersection between LGBT+ identities and demisexuality. Also, because demisexuals have a lot in common with asexuals, even the ones who are heteroromantic identify strongly with asexuals rather than heterosexuals.

Wait… Is demisexuality queer?

You’re going to get a different answer from everyone. Some people think queer can only be used by groups against whom it was originally used as a slur, while others use it as an umbrella term for all minority sexual orientations and gender identities. Some demisexuals identify as queer and some don’t. There is no consensus as to whether demisexuality is considered queer or not.

Does Demisexuality have a pride flag?

Yes we do. 👇🏻

Here’s what the colours mean on the flag.

•Black stands for asexuality.

•Grey represents Gray-Ace and demisexuality.

•White represents sexuality.

•Purple represents community

#lgbtq #lgbtqia #lgbt rights #lgbtpride #lgbtqipa #ace positivity #ace #demisexual #ace discourse

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