#they can pick and ill support them in their adventures or word choice

[gremmyroeroe]

Chat!!!! I got gender euphoria for trying out masc pronouns by my boyfriend and endless support AND i found out a label that fits me for atleast sexuality!! Its so nice omg. I am confused on my identity tho which is ok. Like he called me his pretty boy amd hamdsome husbamd 😭😭 i love him so much and he going to be such a good dad even if we dont work out potentially.

[seedsofwinter]

Here's the truth: someone can have a trauma reaction and make choices in a state of trauma trigger that still end up hurting other people when they didn't mean to... And in doing so still need to make up for the damage they caused. They might think they're doing the right thing. But they're still reacting in trauma, and might even be making choices for someone else without giving them a chance to say if that's what they want or not (consent).

Stede reacted to the new trauma of Admiral Badminton's death and the hateful words said by the man, words that whether he realized that or not pushed all of Stede's buttons on his fears. We saw in his fever dream in episode 3 that he knew a note was not enough for Mary. He didn't even give Ed a note. He just wandered off in trauma. He didn't go to Ed with his fears for support and assurance of his love, because Stede was told he had [emasculated] Blackbeard, the fiercest pirate to ever exist. Even though he knows Ed doesn't like being Blackbeard, he prefers to be Edward or Ed. And I mean this in the sense of who those people are to Ed, as a mask he has to wear as Blackbeard.

When they first met, we had already seen that Ed was bored, his first mate was saying that he was half insane, had strange whims. He was a man on the edge, who entertained the idea that death was an adventure he hadn't had yet, and wouldn't be opposed to trying.

Stede narratively absolutely needed to go back to Mary and the children, partially to close that chapter of his life, and definitely so that he could learn what love could be. Because he'd never experienced it. He didn't know that's what that was. He had kissed the man and he still didn't know what that was! Because he had presumably kissed Mary. Kissing did not equal love for him, even if we can assume he felt something more when kissing Ed on that beach.

And it's so good to see him get to be friends with his wife. To see him use the skills that he picked up this season to truly make his escape from the shackles of his birth.

But he doesn't think of Ed except as he thinks of getting back to him. There is no moment where he thinks "oh no! I left him! Mary, I didn't even leave him a note like I left for you, I just left him. He must think so ill of me. He must think I abandoned him, and I did."

Stede Bonnet has only happiness in his mind and his heart as he runs off to find his beloved again. And he hasn't even thought what the past week could have done to him. He's not put himself in Ed's shoes: Sitting on that pier, waiting, falling into spirals, overthinking everything, getting caught in the loops of obsessive thoughts. Stede knows that Ed has never had a friend before him. That he doesn't think he's a good man. That he thinks Stede was always going to see what he is (not who) and push him away.

And even if it wasn't that, Ed would have come to some point while he waited where he realized Stede wasn't joining him there to get in that dinghy and row away. Even if Stede had simply fallen asleep and not woken up in time, at no point did he--in Ed's mind--wake up and realize he was late and rush out to find him. At the very least, Stede was able to sleep through the night? Without excitement? That meant Ed had put more into it and misread the situation. Oh the embarrassment of hope. (And after Ed "never left", Stede leaves!)

Stede doesn't know all of this obviously. He can't possibly know that Ed went off and found the old crew. And that he was hanging on by a thread. Nor can he know Izzy cut that thread by holding a mirror up to Ed and saying his moping about his boyfriend wasn't good enough (it was the word "boyfriend", it was labeling that silly hope Ed had been drowning in since the dock.) He went from zero to Blackbeard in an instant to have anyone call him out on that--and after Lucius and the rest of the crew have been being so gentle and waiting for him to take time and heal at his own pace!

And when he let go of that silk, his heart, he even stopped being Blackbeard and became the Kraken. He couldn't have Lucius there; he was one who could get close to him and stand up to him, that had been proven already. So he had to go too. They all needed to go, all of the ones who reminded him of the man he loved. And he kept the two that seemed to have someone a little bit more special to them, sure but.... He's not going to be happy, they can't be either. So this secondary action to it all. He split up Jim and Oluwande; Lucius and Pete; Frenchie and Wee John (and I will die on the hill but that IS a queer platonic relationship).

But Stede doesn't know. He hasn't thought of even a fraction of this. He was in trauma when he abandoned Ed, the man with who he mutually found happiness. And he was in misery back at his family's home. And now he is in a different type of fantasy, one where he could walk back into Ed's life and be welcomed with open arms without needing to atone for the damage that he's caused. Because he hasn't even thought it might be there.

He needs to hear from his crew exactly what happened. We know he's going to meet them first. He needs to figure out how to apologize, and use Ed's apology languages, not his own. He needs to make a huge show of his love and devotion. And he needs to accept that Ed doesn't need to accept either of those things. No one can force anyone to accept an apology or to bring someone back into their life even if they do accept the apology.

And obviously I want them to get back together. But I need Stede to earn this, and learn the next part of the lesson. To see what the cowardice got him on this end of it. To start to heal further from the trauma that has been following him his whole life since childhood. Without doing that, he cannot be for anyone the kind of man he should be. Not least of all Ed.

It's going to be painful and dark.

Without, Ed will never be on equal footing with him.

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 52

Warnings: NONE

Tagging: @alievans007, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @ocfairygodmother​

Only fifty three hours remain.

A little more than two days before he’s on a flight to Mumbai. The last six have flown by; time ever slowing the moment they returned home from the Kimberley, no matter how much he begged it to. The majority of his days have been spent preparing for the upcoming mission; taking stock of weapons and ammo and various other gear and supplies. Meetings with Yaz and his tech crew as they hunker down at a local hotel before departing for India. Pouring over the blueprints and the photographs of the prison and the hotel that Yaz had managed to track down. Conference calls and video chats with Anil and his people. When he hasn’t been caught up in all the job logistics, he’s been spending time with Ovi; busting the kid’s ass in the gym and attempting to squeeze in lessons and training on weapons and hand to hand combat.  It has left little time for other pursuits; nothing more than thirty minutes or an hour (at most) with his kids. Trying to savour every minute...every second...with them in case he never gets the chance to again. Wanting to commit every little moment to memory; every word they speak, every giggle, the feeling of their arms wrapped around his neck and their faces buried in his shoulder. Faking his own smiles and laughter when all he wants to do is cry. Wanting nothing more than to just gather them in his arms and never let go.

It’s been difficult. Pretending to that everything is fine when you’re falling apart inside; being eaten alive by worry, doubt, and fear. But he’s hid it well. Or at least he THINKS he has. He’s kept his increasing irritability and simmering rage under control; never raising his voice or snapping at them, never letting them hear the emotion that threatens to choke, or see the tears that often brim in his eyes. As far as they’re concerned, they’re simply going on a trip; excited to visit the place that Ovi ‘comes from’ and see and experience new things. All they know is that daddy leaves a couple days before; going earlier for work. And that while he isn’t able to stay with them and might not get the chance to see them when they arrive, he’ll get to visit them as soon as he possibly can. They’d accepted that explanation a lot easier than he thought they would. The last time he left them for ‘work’, things hadn’t gone as smoothly. The twins had taken it hard -especially TJ- and Millie had been hysterical. He’d thought that after promising them that he’d never leave them again, things would explode in his face. That they’d be hurt and angry and hate him for going back on his promise. But they’d been remarkably calm; comforted by the thought of going on ‘an adventure’ and having him close by at the same time. Satisfied when he’d told them that having them come to India had been his choice; hating the idea of being so far away from them that he’d arranged for them to be so much closer.

It’s all there. Stress. Anxiety. Worry. The guilt that he’s been so focused and dedicated to the Mumbai job that he’s had very little time with his family when they’re the ones he SHOULD be concentrating on. It’s a very real -and terrifying- possibility that these are his last days with them. That when he walks out the door on Sunday, he may never walk back in. That fear is always there with any job; leaving your family is always hard,  but this is different. So VERY different.  This is personal. Their safety...their LIVES...totally dependent on him. If he doesn’t stay focused, if he allows his nerves and his emotions to get the better of him, they’ll pay the price. And he’ll never forgive himself if it’s a mistake on his part that tears his entire life apart. He couldn’t live with that; the guilt, the immense grief, a loss greater than he’s ever known. So he reassures himself as often as often as possible that everything he’s doing...every decision he’s making...every second he’s dedicated to the job and not his family...is for them. So that he can not only get it done, but still have a family to come home to.

For now there’s a reprieve. Time away from the house. Stepping away from all planned meetings and conference calls and leaving Koen and Nathan -armed with very detailed checklists- in charge of making  sure every weapon, every piece of ammo, and any other supplies they’ll need, are packed into locked trunks and ready to go.  Ovi tasked with watching the two littlest while the three oldest are at school. Making the two hour drive to Palm Cove to pick up Saju the Australian shepherd; Millie’s late birthday present. She’d turned six on Wednesday; waking up that morning bright eyed and boisterous and showing absolutely no signs of illness and putting all of his worst fears to rest. The rational side of his brain always knew that would be the outcome; his daughter healthy and happy. But his mind hasn’t exactly BEEN rational for a long time. The damage that’s been done is both irreversible and irreparable; those minutes left without oxygen when he’d coded -twice- in the operating room, the battle with both alcohol and drug dependency, PTSD and all the bullshit that comes with it.

There’s day -months even- where he functions just fine; not hampered by poor decisions of the past or the demons that exist inside of him. Then there’s times when the weight of everything becomes too much to bear; where it’s impossible to even get out of bed in the morning and he wants to put a gun in his mouth. A permanent solution to a temporary problem. But no matter how bad it gets...no matter how overwhelming it becomes...he always reminds himself that he’s one of the lucky ones. That he’s surrounded by those beautiful, innocent little beings  that love him and need him to keep going. And one phenomenally resilient -and ferociously stubborn- woman that never gives up in him.  Always supporting him and loving him even when he hasn’t been the best friend of man for her.

“Look at your little face!” Esme gushes from the passenger seat, eyes sparkling and her entire face glowing as she interacts with the puppy in her lap.

It’s a nice to see -and hear- genuine happiness as opposed to as the fake smiles and laughter that have become commonplace.  Consumed by her own stress and fears and very real concerns.  Wondering how she’ll manage to keep five kids happy, healthy, and safe in an entirely different country and if she’ll be able to keep up the act that being in Mumbai is nothing more than a simple family holiday.  And her worry regarding him is incessant; terrified that she’ll never see him again the second he leaves for Mumbai. There’s always that fear; every job is dangerous and unpredictable and being married to a mercenary is not for the faint of heart. But everything is elevated this time around. The threats real and personal; an enormous bounty placed upon his head and her own life and those of her children depending on him staying alive long enough to get the job done.

But she has faith in him. Unwavering trust. And since their return from The Kimberley, the difference between them has been remarkable. He sees it. He FEELS it. They’re both much calmer and at ease with one another despite the circumstances surrounding them. They talk more instead of bickering; rational conversations instead of emotionally driven arguments. Their bond...their connecting...while always strong, has been heightened. Beyond anything either of them could have expected.

“Look at you!” She continues, as the puppy stands with his hind legs on her thigh and his front paws on her chest. Tousling the fur one the top of his head and scratching him under the chin as he curiously sniffs at her clothes and her hair and the necklace she sports. “Looking how freaking cute you are!  Look at those pretty blue eyes. Who’s the handsome little man? Who is the most handsome man in the world.”

Tyler grins. “Well I thought it was me, but apparently I’ve been replaced.”

“No one could ever replace you,” Esme declares.. “EVER.  But I mean, look…” she picks the puppy up and turns it to face him. “...look at this little face! Look at it! How can you not love it? It’s so sweet and so cute and I just want to kiss him to death! He’s even got blue eyes like the rest of you. Isn’t he just the cutest thing ever?”

“You’re the cutest thing ever,” he says, and she gives a bright smile and a half hearted roll of the eyes.

He can’t help the smile that creeps across his own face as he both listens to her and watches her out of the corner of his eye.  The way she uses that higher pitched, almost childlike voice that she’s never busted out on their kids but reserves strictly for other peoples’ infants and cute animals. Like the time they’d gone to the koala sanctuary and she'd squealed -and then cried- when one of the babies crawled up her leg and allowed her to cuddle and love in it.  And he even manages a laugh when she bursts into giggles; playfully protesting and turning her head from side to side when the puppy excitedly licks her face.

“You realize he’s our daughter’s dog, yeah? That we got him for her?”

“I can’t help that he likes me. That he thinks I’m his person. He’s just the sweetest thing ever. How can anyone resist that little face? Besides, who do you think is going to be doing all the work? Who’s going to be the one taking care of him? It’ll be like having another baby. And you’re not going to be around, so you’ll be completely useless to me and…”

Her voice trails off, and when Tyler glances over he notices the tears welling in her eyes and the way she chews on her bottom lips. “Hey...” he drops a hand from the steering wheel and lays it against the back of her head, fingers gently massaging her scalp. “...what’s going on? What’s wrong?”

“Everything,” she chokes out. “Everything is wrong.”

“Baby...what…?”

“I shouldn’t have said that.”

He frowns. “Said what? What are you…?”

“When I said I have to do everything because you won’t be around. I called you useless. I didn’t mean it that way. It didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”

“It didn’t sound like anything. You were joking. It sounded like a joke. That’s all.”

“You’re the one that’s putting your ass on the line for me. For our kids.   You’re the one that’s going out there and going after these people. You’re the one that’s most in danger. Yet I say something like THAT? That was a horrible thing to say and I’m a horrible person for saying it.”

He can’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of it. “It was a joke. I knew you were joking. I didn’t mean it any other way. Just calm down.”  He smooths a palm over hair and then rests it on her shoulder, squeezing tightly before taking her hand. Lacing their fingers together and pressing a kiss to the side of her wrist before placing their joined hands on his thigh. “It was a joke. You didn’t mean anything by it.”

“This is NOT the time for a joke like that,” she laments,  using her free hand to brush tears off her cheeks. Only to have the puppy to knock it out of the way in favour of licking her face.

“Even he’s upset now,” Tyler says. “There’s no reason to cry. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Acting like this. I promised I wouldn’t get this; all whiny and teary and shit.”

“First off, you’re not whiny. We’re going through some serious shit right now and a lesser woman…a weaker woman...would have had a mental breakdown by now. I don’t expect you not to cry.”

“I said I wouldn’t though. That I’d be calm and composed around the kids.”

“Well there’s no kids here right now, is there. It’s just us. Unless you count him,” he nods down at the puppy sitting between her thighs; eyes intently focused on her, head cocked to the side. “Look at him. He’s looking at you like you’re his mother.”

“He’s so cute,” she sniffles, and scratches the top of Saju’s head. “Not as cute as you, but still really cute.”

“Did you seriously just call me cute?”

“You ARE cute. You can’t fight me on this, Tyler. You’re cute and disgustingly handsome and insanely sexy all rolled into one.  What a burden you have to carry every day being so superior to the rest of the species. You’ve set the bar extremely high for others.”

He grins. “And you say I’M biased?”

“It’s not being biased if it’s true. And I don’t mean to be this way. So weak and emotional and…”

“You know what? Stop. You’re not weak. You are so far from being weak. You’re the strongest woman...person...I’ve ever met. I don’t expect you to feel nothing. This is tough. And I’m feeling it too and there’s no kids around right now and if you need to cry and rant and rave and lose your shit, now is the time to do it. Better now than at home.”

“I’m just so stressed,  I’m so stressed and I’m so worried and I’m so fucking angry.”

“What are you angry about?”

“The whole thing. That we can’t just have a normal lie. That people won’t leave us alone.”

“You knew what you were getting into when you stuck around after Dhaka,” he gently reminds her. “You knew what life was like.  That there’s always someone out there, wanting revenge.”

“I know. And I don’t regret sticking around. I don’t regret you. Or us. I never have. I never will. I just hate it won’t leave you alone. That you’ve been through so much and you’ve come so far and it still won’t let you rest.  It’s still not enough. And when will it be? Next week? Next month? A year from now? Two years? Never?”

“Let’s just get through one thing at time,”Tyler suggests. “Let’s just get past this and then worry about anything else that might come along. There’s no sense getting worked up over this that even happened yet. That probably never will happen.”

“I just want this to be over. I just want you to go and do what you have to do. I just want you to end this. And then I want you to come and get us and take us home.”

“I will,” he promises, and squeezes her hand. “And I’ll come see you guys when I can. When they’ll be it’s safe enough to show up there.”

“The kids won’t understand why they can’t see you. And I don’t know what to tell them. They’re just little. They don’t need to know what’s going  on.”

“I’ll tell them that I can’t visit until I’ve done a few things. That I don’t know how long it’s going to be, but I’ll be there as soon as I’m done. They’re strong kids. And they’re smart. They’re everything that’s great about me and you, all put into them. It’ll be okay. THEY’LL be okay.”

“What if I’m not going to be okay?” Esme asks. “What if this is my breaking point and this is where I totally lose it and go nuts and then I can’t even take care of them properly?”

“You need to calm down.  I know you’re stressed and I know you’re scared and you’re freaked out, but you’re going to be fine. You have to be. For them. Okay? I need you to be fine. For our kids. For MY kids. And you’re strong and you’re resilient and you can do this. I know you can.”

She sniffles. “You have a lot of faith in me.”

“I do,” Tyler agrees. “But I know what you’re capable of. I was there; on that bridge. I know what you did. And if you can do that, you can do anything.”

“Just the thought of you being so close yet so far at the same time…”

“I’ll call when I can. You know I will. I’ll make sure you always know what’s going on and that I’m safe. And besides, you won’t be totally alone. Especially at night. You’ll have this little guy.” he nods down at the puppy. “He’ll keep you company. He’ll cuddle with you.”

“As cute as he is, I’d rather it be you.”

“Yeah,” he says, squeezing her hand and then raising it to his lips, pressing a kiss to it. “I’d rather that too.”

****

After dinner they retreat to the beach; sun falling lower in the sky and bringing slightly cooler temperatures and a much needed break from the humidity.  She sits on a blanket spread across the sand, legs outstretched and Addie laying along her thighs. A hand shielding her eyes from the slowly setting sun as she watched -in amusement- as Tyler, Ovi, and the kids attempt to teach the puppy basic commands. So far it’s been a bust; even with treats for both bribing and rewarding and Mac showing his new ‘sibling’ how it’s done.

The surprise had gone over well; bringing Saju with them when they’d picked the three oldest up at school. Millie wide eyed in shock when she’d seen that little bundle fur and huge blue eyes in her father’s arms, then dissolving into tears and sitting right down in the middle of the asphalt with the puppy in her lap. She’d been slightly disappointed -even with all the other presents she’d been spoiled with- when her entire actual birthday had gone by without the appearance of a puppy. So the pure joy and excitement had been heightened; tears reappearing every so often, accompanied by tight hugs and soft kisses for her parents and a “Thank you, mommy and daddy. He’s perfect.”  And since their initial meeting, Saju hasn’t left Millie’s side; following her around the house, sitting at the pool and whining for her while she went swimming, curling up on her lap while eating supper. He’ll be the bridge spot in their lives’ the one that will bring the smiles and giggles while in India.

She wonders how long it will be. Until all the names are crossed off the list and they’re able to come home. She doesn’t want to make Mumbai a long term resident; her happiness and her calm and serenity all rooted in Australia. In their home and their property; in the smell and the sound of the ocean and in every stunning sunset and sunrise. Things have been good here. Very good. Everyone much more relaxed and at ease; being near the water and surrounded by nature and every beautiful sight and sound that comes with it has been good for them. Mind, body, and soul. And her marriage has been better. Stronger. They’re not as irritable with each other anymore; no longer a lingering mutual hostility that always seemed to be brewing right under the surface.  The fighting not occurring as much and far less volatile when it does creep up.  Words not as harsh and cutting; no attempts at hurting one another when they feel wronged or disrespected.  Even after six and a half years, it’s very much a learning curve. Both victims of horrible first spouses and both carrying baggage for their pasts; both damaged in their own way. Yet somehow managing to balance each other out and heal all the dents and cracks.

Being away for four days had been a Godsend. The time alone not only helping them reconnect, but helping them recharge as well. A chance to be together and rediscover one another outside of being spouses and parents; reminded of how important it is to keep all the other aspects of their relationship thriving as well. And while she’s grateful for that time away, the heartbreaking truth is that it may have very well been the last time they would be together. The possibility of him not surviving is very real; more so than any other job he’s ever taken. Their danger and unpredictability paling in comparison to the things he’ll face in Mumbai. The target on his back will grow with passing day; the bounty on his head increasing dramatically. And she knows it’s weighing on him; the magnitude of the situation, the threats against her and the kids, the thought that he may not make it home.

It’s a lot for him to carry; an already tortured mine being stretched to its limits. He barely sleeps; blaming it on pain when she knows full well it’s so much more than that, Wearing himself out and running himself ragged; attempting to devote every waking moment to both the logistics of the mission and spending time with his kids. Last night he’d fallen asleep -briefly- with the twins; that long, bulky frame looking even bigger on that bottom bunk, a son tucked under each arm. The evening before that, he and Millie had crashed on the couch together; Millie on his lap with her stomach pressed against his torso, head on his shoulder and both arms wrapped around his neck.  And she sees the pain on his face when he’s cuddling Declan while the toddler struggles to fall asleep, or when he’s feeding Addie and his eyes never once leave hers. A profound sadness that comes over him; the way his shoulders slump and he swallows noisily and his eyes become darker.  She’s seen him emotional many times in the past seven years, but she’s never...ever...seen him like THAT. A mix of despair and hopelessness; brain torturing him with the thought that this may very well be the last time Declan ever plays with his beard and his ears while trying to drift off, or come Sunday he may never get the chance to see his baby girl grow up.

Even now he’s at war with himself. She can see it. He’s trying so hard; attempting to separate Old Tyler and New Tyler for the sake of the kids. He’s convincing to them; they’re little and worship the ground he walks on and every smile and laugh is genuine to them and they relish every hug and kiss, not knowing the fears running through his mind. But she knows he’s fighting it; those two very different sides of him struggling to coexist.  She sees it in how distracted he is. In the way his face and his eyes will darken when the kids aren’t looking; the way his shoulders tense and his jaw clenches. So many emotions he’s attempting to rein in. All that fear and worry he insists on keeping locked away.

Even his smile now is forced. Tugging at tightly pursed lips as he heads towards her; Declan looking impossibly small alongside of him, clutching one of his father’s hands as he  unsteadily navigates the sand.  Leaving the three oldest where they are; content and safe with Ovi, still trying to teach the puppy tricks.

“He’s stubborn, huh?” She grins up her husband.

“Means he fits in around here. There’s a few stubborn people under our roof.”

“Yeah, there is. And I’m looking at the main culprit right now.”

“”Don’t talk about Declan like that.”

“You know damn well I wasn’t talking about him. And you can deny it all you want. You’re the most stubborn person to walk the planet.”

“Nope. I think someone has me beat.” Tyler tugs playfully at her ponytail and then slowly and gingerly lowers himself onto the blanket. Unable to hide the wince on his face when she settles next to her and stretches out his legs. The pain has been especially bad the last few days; limp more pronounced, knee seizing up and locking at inopportune times. It’s the last thing he needs; body betraying him in the middle of a job. Especially THIS job.

“You okay?” Esme asks. “That knee’s really been giving you a hard time.”

“I’m fine,” he replies, pulling Declan down into his lap and then reaching for the bag of drinks and snacks they’d brought along and handing his son a sippy cup of juice.  

She  watches out of the corner of her eyes when he runs one of those large, strong hands over their son's strawberry blond hair, then drops a kiss on the top of Declan’s head and presses another to his cheek. The sadness is there; in his eyes, written all over his face.  And she knows there’s nothing she can say or do to help alleviate the suffering that he’s going through. That reality being what hurts most of all.

“YOU okay?” Tyler asks, as he runs a palm over hair and settles it on the back of her neck.

“I’m okay,” she replies, and presses a kiss to his cheek. The bristles of his beard rough against her lips as they linger just below his ear.  The smile that he gives now is genuine; small, but soft and sincere.

He Turns his face into hers, covering her mouth with his in a long, slow kiss that is so gentle it both takes her breath away and brings tears to her eyes.   She keeps them closed; not wanting to add another worry or stress to his already overflowing plate. And she wraps both arms around his bicep and lays the side of her head against his shoulder; fingertips running over smooth skin and hard muscle. Only opening her eyes when she feels him move against her;  scooping Addie up with one hand as Declan crawls away to play in the sand.

“Are you actually going to come to bed tonight?” Esme inquires, as he lays Addie along his free arm, heading resting in the crook of his elbow. Noticing both the  way he swallows around a lump of emotion that sits solidly in his throat, and his eyes well with tears.

“Why?” Tyler leans down to press a kiss to Addie’s forehead. “Miss me?”

“Just a little. I know I always complain about your snoring and your cold feet, but I miss them when they’re not around.”

“Probably won’t be around for a while.”

“Hopefully not as long as you think.  And I know I probably sound selfish because I just spent four days alone with you, but I miss you. Last night you fell asleep with the twins, the night before it was with Millie. I’m starting to get a little jealous.”

“Nothing to be jealous about. You’re still my favourite.”

She smiles and presses a kiss to his shoulder. “I’d really like it if you came to bed. OUR bed Because I have two days left with you and I want to be with you. As much as I can.”

A grin tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Are we talking in the biblical way, or…?”

“In EVERY way. I want to feel you. Beside me. INSIDE of me. I need that. I need YOU. I  need to make it last until I get the chance to be with you again. So come to bed tonight. Please.”

“I will,” he promises, and drops a kiss on the top of her head. “I haven’t been sleeping good,” he admits. “I wake up maybe an hour, hour and a half into it and I can get back.”

Esme removes one of her arms from around his, then reaches up to comb her fingers through the longer strands of hair on the top of his head. “You’re not going to be any good if you burn yourself out.”

Tyler sighs. “I know.”

“You need to take care of yourself too. You’re not sleeping, you’re barely eating even though you’re working out twice as hard, you’re in pain….”

“I’m always in pain.”

“You’re in even more. I can tell. You don’t have to say it; I just know. And if it’s THAT bad, maybe you shouldn’t do this. Maybe you give the list to Nathan or Koen or even Yaz or Nik. Nik can get people on it.”

He shakes his head. “I can’t do that.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t,” he snarls, and immediately regrets it. Sighing heavily, he briefly closes his eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that; to snap at you like that. You’re the last person who deserves it.”

“It’s okay,” she places a kiss on his cheek, chin resting on his shoulder as she continues to comb her hand through his hair; letting the thick tresses slowly slip between her fingers. “You’ve got a lot going on in that head of yours. I’m surprised you haven’t been more on edge. That you’ve been handling it as well as you have.”

“It’s what I gotta do, yeah? Keep it together for you and the kids?”

“It’s better for the kids if you do. But you don’t have to for me. You know that. I’ve been through this before; you leaving for a job. It’s never easy. I’m always worried the second you step out the door.”

“This is different,” he says. “This isn’t like any other job I’ve ever done.”

“It’s personal.”

He nods. “Very.”

“Tyler, there’s no shame in backing out of this. If you’re in this much pain and you don’t think you can physically handle it…”

“I didn’t say I couldn’t. You’re just assuming I can’t.”

“I know you’re in pain. And it’s worse than it’s ever been. If you have to back out, there’s no shame in that. It’s better if you leave things to someone else if there’s a chance something can go wrong with your shoulder or your knee or your back. Because if something DOES happen…”

“Nothing is going to happen,” Tyler insists. “It’s not that bad. It’s nothing I can’t handle. I’ve dealt with worse.”

“...if something DOES happen…” she continues. “...it’ll be a disaster if it happens at entirely the wrong time. What if you’re alone? What if your knee goes out and you’re alone and you can’t get out of somewhere?”

“That won’t happen.”

“You don’t know it won’t.”

“And you don’t know it will,” he retorts. “All of a sudden you don’t trust me?”

“You know that’s not it. You’re the only person I DO trust. I’m worried about you. And it’s not just your physical issues, either.”

“My fucked up brain, you mean?”

“I didn’t say that. I’d NEVER say that.  But you’re aren’t sleeping and you’re on edge and you’re pushing yourself behind even your limits and I don’t want this to break you. Because I’m worried if it does, we won’t get you back together again. There’s people that can do this. People YOU trust. They’re as capable as you are.”

“No one is as capable as I am. Or as good as I am.”

“I’m asking you to reconsider this. Because I don’t know if you’re up to this And I’m not saying that to hurt you. I’m saying to possibly save you. Because you have five little kids at home that need you, I need you. And if it breaks you...if it DESTROYS you…”

“I can’t back out,” he argues. “I can’t. I can’t even consider it.”

“What if we still went to Mumbai but you stayed with us?” Esme suggests. “At Anil’s house. You can protect us a lot better than any of his people can, and you know that. I trust you with my life. With our kids’ lives. I’d rather it be you watching over us than anyone else. What if you stayed with us and only went if you were really needed?”

“You know I can’t do that. You know it will just draw them to you. To the kids. It’ll only bring them right to you if I stay there.”

“But you’ll be there. That’s what I’m saying. You won’t let anything happen to us. You’re more than capable of protecting us. I know the things you can do. I’ve SEEN what you can do. There’s no doubt in my mind you can keep us safe.”

“I can’t stay with you,” Tyler insists.

“Why? Give me one good reason. One good, valid reason why you have to be the one who does this?”

“Because this is about MY family. Not anyone else’s. My wife. My kids. It’s how it has to be.”

“No,” she remains adamant. “It doesn’t. There is a huge target on your back and an even bigger bounty on your head. Wouldn’t it make more sense for you to lay low? Not take the chance of someone seeing you? Dhaka was bad enough.Every gun there was pointed at you. And with the kind of money and power Mahajan has, Mumbai is going to be even worse.”

“Babe, I know you’re worried and I know you’re scared and that you’d rather me say behind and keep an eye on you and the kids…”

“That’s EXACTLY what I’d rather.”

“But I can’t. I can’t take the chance of bringing them right the fucking doorstep. What am I going to do against twenty, twenty five guys? What chance do I stand? That’s a fucking army.”

“Look what you did in Dhaka. In the apartment when you went to get Ovi. You were able to handle all of them.”

“Those were street thugs. Any merc could have handled them.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. If you any merc could have handled them, Nik would have got just anyone to do it. But she didn’t. She got YOU  for it. So no. Not any merc would have done what you did.”

“There is a big difference between street thugs and who Mahajan has working for him. These guys are ex military. Special forces. They're not some poor, desperate kid off the street trying to impress a drug dealer. These people know what they’re doing. And they’re vicious and they’re dangerous and they’re ruthless.  They won’t stop until we’re all dead. And they’ll make me watch. They'll make me watch them kill my kids and you. They’ll make me watch them do sick and twisted shit to you first. Is that what you want? You want me to go through seeing that?”

“No. Of course not! That’s what I want. I would NEVER wish that on you.”

“I can’t take the chance of bringing them right to you and the kids,” he says. “I’m sorry. I just can’t.”

“There has to be some way. To keep us safe and YOU safe. There has to be.”

“I know what I’m doing. Why are you doubting? Two days before I leave. You’ve never doubted me before, so why now?”

“I’m not doubting you!” Esme snaps. “I’m scared of losing you! I’m terrified of it! More than I've ever been with any other job you’ve gone on. It’s all I think about. Nik or Koen or Anil showing up and telling me you’re dead.  I don’t even want to go to sleep because I dream about it.”

“It’s okay.” He presses a kiss to her temple, then runs a hand over the back of her head, settling it on her shoulder. “Just breathe, baby. Just breathe.”

“And then I wake up and you’re not beside me and for a brief second my brain thinks you’re really dead and I freak out and I panic. It’s why I need you there. In bed. I need to wake up and see you there. Or feel you beside me. Because then I know you’re okay. That you haven’t left yet and you’re not dead…”

“Calm down, Esme. Just calm down. Everything’s okay.”

“Everything is so far from okay. And I feel so helpless. I don’t know what more I can do. To prevent someone showing up and telling me you’re dead. I don’t know how to get you to change your mind about all of this.”

“You can’t. I HAVE to do this. I don't trust anyone else the way I trust myself. This is MY family they’re threatening. My wife and my kids. It’s why it has to be me. And I’m sorry. That it has to be this way. If there was any other way…”

“There HAS to be,” she insists. “There has to be another way.”

“There’s not. I wish there was. But there’s not.”

“This is such bullshit! How much more can one man take? I don’t want this breaking you. And I see it happening and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. “

“I’m going to be okay,” Tyler assures her, turning his face into hers and pressing a kiss to her forehead. Hand sliding down from the nape of her neck to the middle of her back, knuckles softly rubbing along her spine. “I’LL be okay.”

“Promise me that if it gets to be too much..if you feel it breaking you...that you’ll walk away. That you’ll let someone else handle things. Because we need you in one piece. Physically AND mentally.”

“If it gets to that, I’ll walk away.”

“Promise me."

“You know my promises are shit. I’ve broken everyone I’ve made in the past six and a half years. What good does it do to promise something when I’m just going to fuck it up? All I’ve done is fuck things up.  I started fucking things up seven years ago and I’m still fucking them up now.”

“Don’t say that,” she sniffles, and then knees beside him, curling both arms around his neck. Fingers of her other hand pushing their way into his hair. “You haven’t fucked anything up.”

“I’ve been a shit husband most of the time. I went back to the job without even telling you. I put it before you and the kids. What kind of asshole does that? What kind of asshole says the things I’ve said? Breaks every goddamn promise?”

“Things were bad then,” she reminds him. “We were in a bad place. We both screwed up; it wasn’t just you. We both lied and said shitty things to each other and tried to hurt one another. But that’s not us anymore. We haven’t been that way in a long time.”

“Six months is NOT a long time.”

“Everything is better now,” she continues. “WE’RE better. If we were anything like we were before, we would have fought a million times already. And you’d be drinking constantly and back on Oxy and everything would be falling apart. But those people don’t exist anymore. We left them behind when we left Colorado. We left them there and we’re not going back for them,”

“What if they find us?” Tyler asks.

“They won’t,” she confidently replies. “They’re long gone. We’re more now. So much better. And you can’t tell me you can’t feel that too. How things have changed. How WE’VE changed.”

“I do,” he admits. “Every day gets a little better.”

“Don’t ever say you’ve always fucked things up. Because that’s so far from the truth. You’ve always done whatever you had to to make sure the kids and I are safe and happy and taken care of. You’ve always done what you had to do to provide for us; even if it wasn’t always a decision I agreed with. You’ve always taken care of us. And we no one else can ever say differently.”

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Or those kids.”

“I know,” she pulls back to look at him, one hand on the back of his head, the  other on his cheek. “You’re a good man, Tyler. Even if you don’t think so. You’ve got to let it go. All that guilt and regret and self loathing. All of it. Because you’re not the same person anymore. You’re not the same man that left Austin or the one in Dhaka or the one that existed when we split up for six months.  He’s gone. He doesn’t exist anymore. And you’ve got to let that bullshit go. Because you’ve more than redeemed yourself. So if you’re doing this...Mumbai...because you’re looking for some kind of absolution…”

“That is NOT why I’m doing it.”

“...you’re not going to find it. There’s nothing TO find. That moment on the bridge...when Farhad shot you...absolution found YOU. It was over right there and then. You don’t have to keep looking for it. It’s done. There’s nothing more to be forgiven for.”

He swallows noisily around the knot of emotion sitting in this throat; hand resting on the small of her back, lips pressed to her shoulder. Eyes closing in an attempt to hold back the threatening flood of hot, bitter tears.

****

It’s two thirty in the morning and he finds himself awake. Sitting at the kitchen table, surrounded by file folders, loose pieces of paper, and his laptop, sipping black coffee in an effort to ward off any grogginess. He’d managed an hour and a half of sleep; a record for the past few days.  Woken up by pain and anxiety; chest aching, body covered in a cold sweat, panic gnawing at him and threatening to consume him from the inside out. He laid in bed for another hour; staring up at the ceiling as he attempted to calm himself and will both his mind and body to sleep. Somewhat comforted by the sound of his wife’s soft, rhythmic breathing and the warmth of her body pressed against his. But every time he closed his eyes the images remained; bloody and gruesome and horrific. Eventually it had become too much to bear and staying awake became the only option to preserve what’s left of his sanity. And he’s so focused on the work spread out in front of him and the hotel blueprints on the screen of the laptop, that he doesn’t realize she’s joined him in the kitchen. Not until she’s standing behind his chair; curling an arm around his neck and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“What are you doing?” she asks, voice groggy from sleep.

“Just going over some stuff.”

“You’ve been going over it non stop for four days. How many more times do you need to look at it?” There’s no judgment in her voice. No nagging. Just concern.

“Gotta keep my mind busy,” Tyler reasons.

“At two thirty in the morning?” She brushes the tip of her nose against his ear, then kisses it. And he smiles as he lays a hand on her forearm and turns his face into hers and kisses her.

“There can’t be any fuck ups.

“There won’t be,” she assures him. “You don’t fuck up. And you especially won’t fuck up when it’s THIS important. You should be sleeping.”

“So should you. Another nightmare?”

“No. Addie woke up for a feed. She went back to sleep right away. She’s getting bigger. Well bigger for her.” She gives a light laugh. “She just may fit into those newborn clothes soon. It only took seven weeks, but…”

“Yeah, she’s a tiny one.” he smiles. “Just a little peanut.”

“I love when you call her that. Your little peanut. I was kind of worried. When I woke up and you weren’t there.”

“Where’d you think I was?”

“You want the rational or irrational answer? It’s so late. Or so early. Whichever way you want to look at it. Do you really need to do this now? You should be upstairs. In bed. With me.”  She pecks the corner of his mouth, then presses a series of kisses along his jaw. “I’m needy.”

He grins. “Lately you are, yeah.”

“I can’t help how much I want you, How much I need to be with you. To feel you beside me. INSIDE of me. Who knows how long it's going to be before any of that happens again. You can do this later.”

“Won’t be any time tomorrow. What with Millie’s party and all the people that will be here. And I leave the next day, so…”

“Things aren’t starting until the second day you’re in Mumbai, right? Leave it to then. You don’t need to do this right now. Come to bed, Tyler. And stay there. There’s no reason for this.”

“I can’t sleep. And I don’t want to keep you up by tossing and turning all night.”

“You don’t HAVE to sleep.” Her chin rests on his shoulders, hands over his shoulders and down his chest. “There’s other things that can keep your body...especially your hands...busy. I need this. I need YOU.” Her lips press against the side of his neck, fingertips drifting over each well defined ab muscle, then just above the waist of his sweats. “So come to bed. Please.”

“Just give me a few minutes. Let me just get a couple things done and…”

“No.” She reaches out and snaps the lid on the laptop closed. “Enough. Stop torturing yourself like this. Stop dwelling on it and second guessing yourself and thinking about nothing but the worst case scenarios. Stop. Please. I need you to stop.”

“Esme, I know you mean well. And I know you’re worried about me; trust me when I say I appreciate it and I love you so much for it. But…”

“There’s no ‘buts’. Not a single one. You’ve been over this shit a million times. You don’t need to go over it a million more. It’s become an obsession. This whole goddamn thing. And it’s messing with your brain and it’s turning you into someone I don't even recognize. I NEED you to stop.”

Tyler sighs and leans back in his chair. “What do you want from me?”

“What do you mean what do I want from you?” She shoves the laptop away and squeezes herself between him and the table, perching herself on the edge. “I want you to stop. I want you to stop obsessing over this and letting it eat you alive. I see what this is doing to you and I hate it and I won’t just sit back and watch it destroy you.”

“I’m trying to protect you. I’m trying to protect my kids.”

“And you ARE. You ARE protecting us. And I trust you to protect us. But it doesn’t have to break you. It doesn’t have to destroy you. It doesn’t have to destroy US. Is that what you want? You want this to ruin us? Everything that we’ve worked so fucking hard for?”

“Of course not, baby. That’s not what I want.”

“You need to step back from this, Tyler. There’s other ways to protect us. You don’t need to do this.”

“Yes. I do.”

“No.” She clasps his face in her hands. “You don’t. There are other ways. You know there are.”

“They have to pay. They DESERVE to pay.”

“And they will.  But you don’t have to be the one that does it.”

“I do,” he insists. “You know I do.”

“Why? Do you think you have something to prove? Do you think I’ll somehow think less of you if you DON’T do this? That will never happen. I could never...ever...think less of you. Just hand this over to someone else and stay at Anil’s with me and the kids and protect us that way.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t understand.”

“I DO understand. I know you think this is up to you. I know you think you should be the one that goes after them because it’s your family that’s being threatened. But I am telling you right now, it does NOT have to be you.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” His palms rest on her thighs, and he places a kiss to each of her knees before looking up at her. “It has to be.”

“This will kill us. This will tear us about.”

“It won’t.”

“It’s already starting to. Because you’re closing yourself off. You won’t let me in. You won’t talk to me about anything, you won’t tell me what’s going on in your head, you won’t...”

“I can’t sleep because I don’t want to sleep,”  Tyler confesses. “Because I’ve been having nightmares. Fucking horrible ones.”

“About me?”

“And the kids.”

“When did they start?”

“Soon as we got back. Soon as I started working on all of this.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What could you do about it? You can’t stop them. You can’t make them go away. And I see these things happening...the things in the nightmares...every time I close my eyes. And that’s why I CAN’T sleep. Because I don’t want to see all of that.”

“Tyler…” she presses a kiss to his brow and then buries her fingers in his hair, drawing his head down into her. “...I’m sorry…I’m sorry your brain is like this.”

“I can’t make it stop. I can’t get it out of my head. The things they’ll do to you. The things they’ll do to my kids.”

“It’s okay,” she strokes his hair and the back of his neck, feeling the tears that soak straight through her shirt. “It’s going to be okay.  YOU’RE going to be okay.”

“That’s why I have to do this. It’s why I need to be the one that goes after them. That kills them. I want to make them suffer. I want them to beg me for mercy and I want to stand there and watch them die. That’s the only thing that’s going to make this all go away. And I’m sorry. That it has to happen this way.”

“I don’t want this breaking you. I don’t want this destroying us.”

“It won’t. I won’t let it. I love you. So fucking much.  And that’s why it has to be me.”

“Okay,” Esme relents, then tugs at his hair, encouraging him to look up at her. “ I love you. More than I ever thought I could ever love someone. And I just want you to be safe. I just want you to be okay.”

“I will,”  Tyler promises. “I’ll be okay.”

She gives a small smile, then leans over and presses a kiss to his lips. “Come to bed,” she says, as her fingers drift through his hair. “I need to be close to you. As close as possible. Just come to bed.”  She kisses him again, and this time when she attempts to pull away, he clamps a hand down on the back of her head, holding her firmly in place. And she can taste the salt of his tears on his lips as the kiss deepens. Becoming urgent. Needy. Desperate.

A kiss filled with fear. The worry that neither of them will get that chance...that kind of kiss...again.

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

First Loves, Gentle Kisses, and Families (Sriracha, Part 28.)

Description: A problematic college student gets the worst summer job of the ‘83 - Jim Hopper, the Chief of police in your hometown will have you as his secretary since his old lady Flo has two months lasting holiday. It was agreed so Hopper could let you far away from all the trouble.

Part Summary: Eleven bringing more people to your life was something that was terrifying, yet fun and full of adventure at the same time. And there were more exciting news about to come from the Hawkins Lab.

A/N: The Snow Ball is approaching, romance is in the air, everyone is feeling good, this is going to be fluffy.

Word count: 2.3 K

Tagging: @nemodoren​, @creedslove​, @missdictatorme​

Master list: H E R E

It was just a matter of time before you found your way to at least respect the children Eleven was friends with. There was this Sinclair boy, Lucas, who always had some dumb jokes that made you at least chuckle. There was Dustin, who sometimes had the front teeth and sometimes he hadn’t got any because of some weird illness he had. There was also Maxine, who was quiet, but she liked to cook with you and Eleven. You already knew Will and his Dungeons and Dragons and you’ve seen Mike around already, so there was no surprise there.

Just before December was about to start, you first noticed that Mike and Eleven maybe are a thing. You noticed those careful touches that you shouldn’t see, you could notice how aware Mike is around you and how El blushed every time he looked at her.

Once, you asked Hopper about that when you were about to lay in the bed.

“Hey, I feel like you’re keeping some secrets away from me.” - You furrowed and put on your pajama pants, putting your hair in a comfortable hairstyle, so it wouldn’t bother you during the night. Hopper's eyes closed as he tried to guess what you're talking about. His eyes popped out then, figuring out that you had found out about the lab stuff, and his arm hugged the blanket a bit tighter. - “You do?” - Hopper mumbled, his voice cracking a bit.

“Obviously. I feel like there is something weird every time I get back to Hawkins, like, you know, there’s something different. Almost… Almost as if you and El are keeping some secrets and other things away from me. Did you know anything about that?” - A clear amusement could be heard in your voice, which made his testicles crawl back inside of his belly. Was he about to be bitched down as a fourth-grader who came home late? Were you about to turn into a furious, yelling, plate-throwing demon he was used to? - “Do I know about what, exactly?” - The man asked as he watched your body laying down next to him, cuddling to him in the ice-cold late November night.

“You didn’t see that? El and Mike? You hadn’t noticed?” - You giggled, turning your head at him, smiling. Hopper could feel the damn relief falling off of his back. It was just El and Mike… Well. It was his daughter and that little Wheeler bastard you were talking about. That was when his eyebrow got a spasm.

“Oh, come on, don’t be a jackass. First love is the most beautiful one, James.” - Your laughter could be heard when you watched Hopper having a facial expression of rock. His hand was thrown over your waist, yet his body was ridiculously tensed. - “Hopper, stop this, don’t act like a fucking idiot. She is our princess, yes, but this would come over the time either way. And I like this Mike Wheeler. I know him since the day he was born, he’s a good kid.”

With that, Hopper shoved his face into the pillow, grunting annoyedly at you supporting Eleven’s damn choice. This battle was lost even before it started - he knew that he could go against you and your opinion, theoretically speaking, but you would pull out such arguments that it would make him sit on his damn ass. - “I’m with these two together way more than you. I know how Mike acts around her and I know he’s damn sweet to her. Let it be Hopper.” - You whispered to his ear before you slowly brushed your fingers under his t-shirt. Yes. This argument and battle were lost long before it even started.

The life went on, how much more could you possibly say? You went to work, studied in your free time, took care of Eleven, her friends and Hopper - the life in its entirety has never been better when you thought about it. Eleven was properly happy for the first time in forever and you couldn’t be happier about that.

It was a week after December started - and a week remaining to Snow Ball. Early Christmas, Hopper called it jokingly, but he was right. When he came home that day, you hadn’t expected him to be there that soon. You were pleasantly surprised because you and the kids were just in the half of a karaoke marathon and you were just staying Ghostbusters with a small help from Will the Wise himself. Hopper watched you with an amused smile - there was something magical about watching you work with children; whether it was studying with El or making dumb things with the whole gang, you always made it fun for both sides.

Last time he came in and you were just doing stuff, you played D&D. And oh my, you were just lost - visibly lost at what the hell was happening. Mike and Lucas helped you with building a character and you even got pretty far into the story, with the help of the boys, of course, but you still didn’t have any idea about what the goddamn hell is going on. You only knew that some kind of Minotaur had sliced you in half and just like that, you were dead and out of the whole story.

So this time, seeing you slaying Ray Parker’s song, that was a pleasure. And it was damn sweet when you repeated Who you gonna call? and the gang yelled back Ghostbusters! with lots of laughs as the melody slowly faded away.

“Would you mind if I steal Mr. Parker here for a minute or..?” - Hopper asked once the song ended.

“Only if Lucas and Dustin won’t cheat during Never Surrender. Mike, you’ll watch them and if they do cheat, points down.” - You said, a bit sad that you won’t see Dustin and Lucas chaotically yelling the romantic song. They were bickering about something, but you just walked to Hopper, smiling at them. - “Yada yada yada, can’t hear you. Do your best and don’t cheat or you’re out. I’m not playing games with karaoke.”

Hopper took you to the bedroom, sitting you down on the bed even if you said it’s completely pointless. Only when you finally sat down and heard Corey Hart and Dustin in sync yelling the first verse, Hopper gave you a completely normal envelope. You smiled at him before taking it out of his hands. And boy, when you finally opened it, you were taken away, watching that piece of stamped paper in your fingers.

“Merry Christmas, baby.” - The man kneeling in front of you whispered, smoothing both your thighs. You started shaking with excitement. Your eyes were scanning the paper to see if it isn't fake. But it seemed to be real.

“Is… Is this… Are you for… Is it even real? Are you telling me..?” - You whispered, watching the adoption certificate of Jane Hopper, presumably Eleven, in your palms.

“You’re now officially a proud mom.” - Hopper smiled with tears in his damn eyes. It was so pleasurable to see you as happy as you were in that moment. You were crying like a baby, let’s face it, but you tried to contain yourself just because there was only a piece of cloth between you and a room full of teenagers.

This was something huge, something you thought you would never achieve. That piece of paper was saying that Eleven is yours and no-one could deny that. And the document was even official, which was just breathtaking. You cried along with Jim in the backroom for the next ten minutes before you walked into Lucas and Max performing Material Girl from Madonna. And Lucas was just slaying the whole text while Max performed the backup vocals.

Not an hour from that, while Hopper decided to read something, the moment you didn’t like came by - Steve Nanny McFee Harrington came to pick up the boys and Max to drive them home. But you weren’t quite done with the contest, so you walked into the cold evening and looked at him. That was a thing you haven’t done before. You haven’t spoken to Steve in almost a year, which was crazy to think of since he was a big part of your life before.

“Hey, wanna come in? It’s freezing out there!” - You called in the direction of the car, smiling at the boy. He watched you like a dear in the headlights, trying to make out if you’re making fun of him or not. But when your smile widened even more than before, he stopped the engine and walked to the cabin, hearing first notes of Runaway, Max's song of choice.

“Hi there.” - You whispered with a smile, looking at the boy. Steve seemed to be mature. You didn’t know why or how was that possible, but the boy in front of your eyes looked… Really like an adult.

“Yeah, h-hey.” - Steve got out of his lips before you closed the door after him. The kids waved at him before continuing with their little karaoke. You, without hesitation, prepared Steve some warm chocolate so he wouldn’t freeze. The cabin was warm enough, but that boy just seemed to be cold. - “Haven’t talked to you in a while… How… Are things?” - He asked awkwardly as he looked around the cabin.

There was Eleven’s drawing hanging on the fridge, a lot of her pictures, there were even pictures of her and her friends there - you especially loved the one where Dustin was pretending that he had rabies when you made them Hopper’s triple-decker extravaganza one evening. There were pictures of you and Hopper side by side, pictures when you were alone with El - like hugging her on the couch or cooking with her. It was obvious that you had a family life and that you’re happy with it. It felt strange to see his former best friend’s sister, and his past crush, to have such a life at such an age and to be happy with it.

“They’re going just great. A year ago, I wouldn’t ever think that I can have a life like this, yet, here we are. It’s kind of a miracle.” - You smiled, giving him the mug, making yourself one as well. - “How are you? You and Nance are still hitting it off?”  - You smiled wickedly, but as soon as you could see his miserable face, you knew that you hit some soft spot in steve.

“No. I was, in fact, a terrible boyfriend and she started dating Jonathan Byers a month ago, they seem happy, tho. A terrible boyfriend, would you believe that? Just as you always told me.” - Steve turned the awkwardness into a joke, but you punched his shoulder with a giggle.

“I have never told you that you’d be a terrible boyfriend, Harrington. I just told that you and me? That wouldn’t work. And I told you a million times, again and again.” - You told him, looking him in the face with a smile on your lips, feeling a bit better around him each passing minute.

“Turned out I’m the best single mom Hawkins High basketball team had ever seen.” - Steve said proudly, which made you laugh again.

“Listen, dude, I love you and I always did. But not in the way you desperately wanted me to. You’re like a little brother to me - whatever happens, call me, we can hang out, talk things out, yeah?” - You offered him a sisterly hug and Steve accepted, smiling into your shoulder. - “Don’t you forget I’ve seen you running naked around our pool when you were small.” - You whispered, making him hug you even tighter.

He got over the crush some time ago, but the shock of you dating Hopper was just so huge, that he never brought himself to say hi to you when he met you in Hawkins. He couldn’t wave at you or look you straight in the face. It was just so hard - you were turning his offers down him for years at that point, but you fell in love with a total shit like James Hopper? That wasn’t fair.

But now, it felt just good and natural to hug you as a friend only. It didn’t feel pressured or weird. Steve started to see the value of a true friendship after he started hanging out with Dustin Henderson and his douche friends. And he could see why you and Hopper were making things work so well - when he looked at your mutual relationship without his jealousy, he could see why your bitching-down nature could hold a man like James grounded in reality and why his nature could make your head make fly in the skies.

“But we’ll sing karaoke now and we’ll show these teens how to slay a song hm?” - You asked, more like told him straight forward, and dragged him in front of the couch. Steve tried to resist with laughter, but in the next minute, you were yelling the text of Total Eclipse of the Heart into the hairbrushes like the whole mattered on this performance. Hopper was standing there, in the doorframe of the bedroom, watching as you made Steve laughter on many occasions when you just fucked the words up because you wanted to.

And for the first time, Jim wasn’t a bit jealous when it came to Steve - because no matter if the boy was a prick, they get to know each other during the second incident in Hawkins. And no matter how hard he tried to get under your skirt previously, that kid had a heart of gold. He just needed friends because, in reality, Steve was lonely. And it felt right when Hopper saw you two jamming to the song.

[zach-the-fox]

Furiends Episode 2: By Your Side

The gang approaches upon a wide, two-story brick building, grey in color and long. The entire structure appears as if it’s an old, nineteenth-century psychological ward for the mentally ill. Zach stands still as the entire dwelling looms over him with his new friends beside him, waiting for his further actions.

“You okay, Zach?” asks Niji.

“Y-yeah,” Zach responds. “Just a bit nervous…”

“Don’t worry,” Emmy tells him. “We’re here with you.”

“Thank you.” The fox takes a deep breath with his eyes closed. Opening them once letting out air, he proceeds inside the building with the others by his side. He approaches the counter where the receptionist is, wearing hooded robes to mask their identity. “Hello?” The animal turns to Zach’s attention. “I’m here to claim my birth certificate, high school diploma, and card. My name is Zach the Fox.”

“Oh, aren’t you that flawed fox who got evicted yesterday?” asks the receptionist. Zach nods with ears drooping. “One moment, please.” The receptionist stands and ambles to the doorway, where another hooded figure appears. They exchange words in a low tone before the figure beside the receptionist disappears. The receptionist walks back to the fox. “The headmaster will bring them out to you. Please wait while they do.”

“I’m not sure I can…” His entire body trembles. “I’m not comfortable…”

“Zach?” Carly moves in closer to him, as does Emmy. “What’s wrong?”

“This place… I-It brings back so many painful memories…” His shaky paws find their way to his temples. “I… I can still hear the kids taunting me… belittling me… I can still see them standing over… throwing food and other things… I don’t want to be here much longer…”

“Don’t worry…” Emmy rubs her hoof against his back. “We’re not going to be here much longer. As soon as you get your things, we’ll be out, right?”

Zach looks to her, lowering his paws, and nodding. “Y-yes… Not much longer…”

“Zach the Fox.” The hooded figure reappears before the group. In their grip are two eight-by-eleven paper with writings and designs on them, as well as a card with Zach’s picture. “Here’s your papers. Now, I don’t ever want to see you after this. You’ve got it?”

Zach stares at the figure before giving them a single nod and taking the documents. “Yes, Headmaster… You don’t need to worry… I will be gone…”

“Well, if it isn’t the flawed fox?!” utters a voice. Zach and his friends turn to where the source had come from; a grey wolf with a red bandana on his left arm. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Oh… hello, Jay.”

“Jay?” Navy repeats. She looks to the wolf. “Hey wait, you’re Jay the Wolf from Team Rescuers.”

Jay turns to her and smiles. “At your service.” He shifts back to the fox. “You come to whine your way back into the orphanage? Doubt they will accept you back considering all the trouble you’ve caused!”

“He’s not here for that,” the headmaster points out. “He was just collecting his possessions before walking out the door. Isn’t that right, Flawed Fox?”

“What possessions?” Jay asks. “All he owns is that stupid bandana that your worker gave to him. He owns nothing, Mom! He is nothing!”

“I will talk to you later, Jay. I am busy! As for you, Fox, don’t stick around any longer. I expect you to be out of here by the time I’m finished with the other children.” The figure turns and leaves the room.

Jay continues to taunt Zach. “Hear that? You’re unwanted. You always were. Nothing but a flawed fox!”

Emmy, agitated with clenching fists and eyes, steps in front of the fox and into Jay’s gaze. “I wouldn’t pester him if I were you. He’s suffered through a lot, and now he’s left on his own no thanks to you and every one of Heroto!”

“Y-yeah,” Eren adds, on the other side of them. “That’s no way to treat the citizens you save!”

“Emmy, Eren, please…” Carly steps near them, worried of the conflict. Silus moves closer as well, preventing any injuries that may occur to his love.

“You’re defending him?” Jay queries. “A little pipsqueak warthog and a deer with no antlers? Ha! How very interesting for you to defend a flawed fox; very fitting.”

“Hey,” Silus utters. “Don’t talk about my husband that way. That isn’t nice.”

Navy stands beside the group, as does Niji. “Yeah! How dare you talk about our friends that way!”

“Friends?!” Jay chuckles at the idea and crosses his arms. “The flawed fox has no one! He’s been alone his whole life, and always will be. He’s nothing but trouble. You all sound like crazy people saying that.”

“Us crazy?” spurts Niji. “You sound like a big jerk. Nothing but a bully and a pushover. How on Earth did you become a protector of Heroto? You don’t seem like one. You’re probably a fraud!”

Jay clenches his paw into a fist as his expression changes. “What the hell did you just say, Wolf? You want to run that by me again?”

Carly gets beside him. “He said that we were just leaving now. Come on guys, let’s get out of here.”

“Wise choice.” Jay watches as the animals exit the building, giving a mean glare at them.

As the group distances themselves from the structure, they head for the park as a means of escaping. Zach sits on the park bench, hunched over with drooping ears, while Emmy sits beside him, rubbing his back to comfort him.

Carly has her arms crossed as she stands about, looking at the orphanage from the entrance. “Well, they were quite nice,” she says sarcastically. “I thought orphanages were a place to make kids happy until they get adopted… And to think the leader of Team Rescuers was actually a caring kind of person.”

“What a salt bag!” exclaims Navy. She looks to the fox. “We’re so sorry about everything you struggled through, Zach. We had no idea what you’ve been through.”

“You know what, it’s actually okay…” Zach straightens his ears and his position to meet the eyes on his friends. “I’m actually a bit happy that I don’t have to suffer within that place anymore. I may not have anywhere to go or anything to do, but I’m thankful to be free. I am also grateful to have you guys as my new friends.”

“It’s no worries,” Niji says. “I can’t believe that wolf is so sour.”

“We’re here for you, Zach,” Eren tells the fox. “We’ve got your back.”

Zach manages a small smile. “Thank you…” He looks at his newly-obtained items. “Well, now that I have my documents, I can start looking for a job. That’s not going to be so easy, though… It may be a long time until I can support myself and find a place of my own…”

Silus places two hands on his shoulder. “You don’t have to worry about that. Like Eren and I said, we’ll take good care of you. In fact, we have a spare room at our townhouse, so you’ll have plenty of room. We’ll make sure you get set up.”

“I guess that means we should call it a day then?” Niji asks. “I’ll see you all tomorrow.” Everyone exchanges farewells as they all split and part. Zach follows Eren and Silus as they head for home.

 ***

 The three animals walk through a door and enter into the living room area. A set of stairs against the wall lead up to a balcony with three doors appearing. Under the balcony is a modern-style kitchen complete with a stove, microwave, and pristine countertops. A square dining table with four chairs rests behind the sofa and television set.

Zach stares it amazement as his mouth is in the shape of a small ‘o’. “Whoa…”

“Nice place, right?” Silus asks. “We’ve just moved in not so long ago. We came from the town over.”

“Deersburg?” Zach guesses. Silus nods. “I remember going with Team Rescuers there. The citizens were not very friendly towards me… They saw me just the same like Heroto. Did they treat you guys fairly there?”

“Zach,” Eren begins. “You are me in Deersburg.”

Zach’s ears stick up as high as they can be, while he looks at him with surprise. “W-what?”

“I’m going to start making dinner while this conversation drags on,” says Silus. “It’ll be some time.” The newt drops his stuff on the couch and ventures into the kitchen. Using his four arms, he searches cabinets and takes out essential tools and ingredients needed for tonight’s dinner.

“Let’s sit down and talk,” suggests Eren. Zach follows the deer to the table and sits across from him.

“So, what do you mean by that, Eren? Are you saying that you were the same way in Deersburg as I am here?”

Eren nods. “The other deer don’t like me… They think I’m an abomination...”

“W-why?” Zach gets his answer when the young deer removes his cap. On the top of his head are small humps sticking out where the antlers would be. “Uh, I’m sorry, but what am I looking at…?”

“My antlers… They’re just small, I know… I’ve had them since birth, though…”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Everyone thinks it’s funny… All the other deer have beautiful, pointy antlers and meanwhile all I have are these nubs! They all made fun of me for it; they thought I was a freak… I was constantly bullied and picked on for it… I never made a single friend…”

“Oh… I’m very sorry, Eren… I don’t see anything wrong with your antlers. They’re actually quite cute-looking on you. I like them.”

Eren manages to cope a small smile. “Gee, thank you, Zach… You know, it’s funny because Silus said the same thing when we met…”

“Really?” Zach asks. “How did you two meet?”

“Come on,” Silus cuts in. “Don’t tell him the story, Babe.” He lets out a chuckle.

Eren shifts to Silus. “You know I have to, Honey.” The deer then turns back to the fox. “So, Silus was a big adventurer before he met me. He came to my hometown not too long ago and saw me there. And from the moment he laid eyes on me, it was love at first sight.”

“Aw, sounds romantic!” Zach comments.

“It wasn’t immediate,” Silus adds. “Eren always played hard to get; I was trying to woo him, but every time I tried to, I didn’t succeed.”

“Why is that, Eren?”

“Because I felt he was stubborn and distrusted people,” Eren explains. “I saw him as a thick-skinned newt. He wouldn’t leave me alone without trying to step it up. Silus really wanted me, but I wasn’t so sure of him.”

“How did you guys end up together, then?” asks Zach.

Eren continues with the story. “One day, I was walking in town when this group of deer began pushing me around and took my hat… Everyone could see my tiny nubs, and they all laughed at me for it… I couldn’t take it, so I ran into the alleyway, saddened by my appearance… Then, Silus came and found me… He asked what was wrong, so I told him everything…”

“I eventually found the deer and dealt with them,” Silus butts in. “I retrieved Eren’s hat back and returned it to him. After that, he decided to give me another chance. After that day, we’ve become a beloved couple.” A slight “aw” sounds from the fox. “Of course, I would always get into trouble when I would defend Eren, so we decided to move.”

“We’ve traveled quite a bit before settling here,” Eren finishes. He looks to Zach. “But after learning about your story, I’m not sure I feel comfortable with Team Rescuers blaming you for everything, as well as the town of Heroto. Yet, I share the same experiences with you.”

“I’ve lived with being singled-out all my life,” says Zach. “It’s rough, and I struggled… I envy you, however… I wish I could have someone to love… Someone who would love me for me, and not hate me for every little flaw…” His head droops, along with his ears. “If only I had my own “Silus”, then I’d actually feel like I’d have a reason to live… A reason be happy…”

Silus walks over and places two hands on his shoulder for comfort. “You’ll find someone eventually… It took a while for me with Eren, but you’ll manage. And you don’t have to worry about anyone bullying you. We’re your friends; we’ll take care of you.”

The fox looks up to the newt and manages a small smile. “Thank you… I also want to give my thanks for accepting me. You both, Carly, Emmy, Niji, and Navy… Thank you, guys.”

Eren reflects the fox’s expression. His look changes quickly upon noticing the dark smoking billowing from the pot on the stove. “Whoa!”

Silus turns and sees what the deer had. “Oh no!” He rushes over and makes haste with his arms. “Not again…”

The deer faces Zach again. “Don’t worry about that. Silus sometimes screws up on dinner. However, this is the third time he’s done this.”

“Does this mean we’re bringing in food?” Zach asks. The couple laughs. @carlycmarathecat​ @emmy-the-absolute-goof​ @rainbow-strike​ @pink-unicorn-boi​ @ask-choro-mama​

[the-sun-shining-on-thorki]

Warning: Mpreg

This is the whole story. Thank you for all the lovely support. Special thanks to @thorkified and @missleeismyname for their lovely tags in the previous chapters. 

Chapter 1

Between contractions and pain, lots of pain, Loki can hear the midwives muttering among themselves. He must have lost a lot of blood by that point, for their expressions are solemn whenever they check between his legs.

Loki has no time for their meddlings though, his body is telling him to push, and the impulse is hard to resist. Several pushes and an animalistic howl are all it takes to drive the creature out of his body, the shock to his body so great that Loki feels his surrounding becoming a blur. Loki wishes to summon his magic and heal himself, but his father has stripped him of the right to access his powers. As he lies there, with his legs still spread wide open and his blood staining the bedsheets, he hears a weak wail…

He surely does not inherit his father’s pair of lungs, the young prince thinks to himself before falling into unconsciousness.

When he wakes up, Loki instinctively looks to his side for his child but is disappointed to find Odin standing next to his bed, the baby not in sight. Loki feels terribly sore, and his throat still hurts from hours of cursing and dehydration. A day of sleep does not make him stronger, and he finds his strength lacking when he tries to sit up. He must have looked a mess in front of his father, or rather, adoptive father. Loki was only informed of his real heritage when he was found with child, and Asgardian men do not bear children. One night of revelation was all it took for his world to collapse; Loki found he is never considered as a potential king, he is not an Odinson and not even Asgardian, his belly carried the child of a man who was never his brother.

“Father,” he nods to the silent king. He had pleaded Odin, pledging his loyalty and when the method ceased to work, he spat out words like daggers as he accused his once-father of deception and cruelty. Nothing had changed the Allfather’s decision, and all that remains is just indifference between them.

“The babe is born dead,” Odin states, looking into the eyes of his estranged son, “The midwives gave it a proper burial. It is all for the best, you can return back to Court once you have recovered.”

Liar! Loki wants to scream, he had heard his infant’s cries before he submitted to exhaustion.

“Why couldn’t you at least let me have a glimpse of him before taking him away? Am I not good enough to bide farewell to your grandson?” He ought to question Odin in rage, but he is too tired at that point and sick of his own powerlessness. He asks plainly and expects an answer to the agony in his heart. He had anticipated the birth as the months drew closer, hoping for the day when he could bring his child back to Asgard and show him to his sire. Odin obviously deems him unworthy of this wish, and Loki knows it is too late. In his silent rage, he does not notice Odin referring to his child as “it”.

Odin bows his head, avoiding Loki’s accusative gaze as he utters these words, “It is not formed properly and will only upset you. The midwives were driven to hysteria when faced with its…abnormality. A quick burial was necessary to free us from the mistake. We can look past this unfortunate incident to a better future, my son.”

While Odin is walking away from the little cottage, located on the outskirts of Asgard, he can still remotely hear his son’s wail, the tearing of bedsheets and the breaking of furniture. The healers will calm him, the Allfather knows. Loki will understand his infant is dead. The cause of its death is no longer important to his son, he could have crushed the child’s neck in his sleep, and there is nothing Loki can do about it.

His children had bedded each other and brought the scandal to life with a bastard child. Odin has to be sure that nothing, no one, will upset the hierarchy he has consolidated for hundreds of years. Thor has a reputation to uphold as the future sovereign, and siring a bastard with his adoptive brother will set it to flame.

Especially when the child looks so much like his sire, slumbering in his little cradle. Cared for by a gentlewoman in Vanaheim, the babe with a crown of golden hair gurgled in his sleep and made little kicks with his chubby legs.

Chapter 2

According to father, Modi’s mother has died at birth, and he has no plan of remarrying.

Modi is a happy child, the beloved prince of Asgard. He knows that he is loved since birth, spoiled by his father and pampered by his grandmother, Queen Frigga. Even his one-eyed grandfather, the Allfather, smiles softly in his presence. He spends his days wandering in the palace, sneaking into the kitchen for cakes and following courtiers around as they move from one meeting to another.

His favourite person, however, is his uncle.

Uncle Loki is not someone he often sees, as he spends a lot of his time travelling between the nine realms. However, when he is back in Asgard, Modi has the best of time. It seems that Modi is the only one his uncle regards as important and takes up the centre of his attention during each visit.

Uncle Loki smells of oak trees and neroli, his embrace cool but comforting. In his earliest memory, Modi can recollect his uncle holding him as they picked flowers and fruit in the royal garden. Other adults usually tower over him, but the raven-haired man always makes sure to kneel down to his level as he speaks to him. The man brings Modi trinkets and gifts from his travels, narrating endless tales that leave the child excited for days. The visions he shows Modi, created by his powerful sorcery, are the most impressive things Modi has ever beheld. And unlike most adults, the God of Mischief tolerates his list of questions and knows the ways to sate his curiosity: He knows where the maids put the sweets jar and even told Modi the best hiding spot in the palace.

As Modi grows older, however, he can sense that their interaction is not welcomed. The Allfather frowns whenever Uncle Loki wants to speak to Modi and often finds ways to take the boy away from the room. Once or twice, Modi could see his uncle clenching his jaw and glaring at the one-eyed man when he thought Modi wasn’t looking.

One night, Modi secretly creeps into his uncle’s room, only to find him weeping in his father’s arms. When the blond god sees him, he shushes his uncle. Quickly wiping away the tears on his face, Uncle Loki immediately approaches Modi, embraces him and kisses him goodnight. 

The next day, Uncle Loki has departed Asgard in the early hours, and Modi did not even have a chance to say goodbye.

Chapter 3

The next time he sees the raven-haired god again is 50 years later. The Allfather fell into Odinsleep and Modi’s father, as a result, has ascended to the throne.

Modi jerks awake one early morning and gasps when he sees a silhouette sitting on his bed. A second later, the candles in the room are lit, and he beholds his uncle’s chiselled face.

“Uncle!” gasps Modi. It has been a long while, and he has so much to tell the man before him. He might be 550 years old, the equivalent to a child’s age in human standard, but he knows that the last few decades have brought him more knowledge and skills that he cannot wait to show the man. 

“Modi,” Loki smiles as he gently strokes his nephew’s face, “it has been a while.” 

Modi quickly crawls out from his covers as he moves closer to his uncle, his heart pounding with excitement. His mind is flooded with questions, but the main one is, “Why have you come to visit me at this hour, Uncle? You could have met me tomorrow morning at breakfast.”

Loki’s smile falters, but he quickly explains, “I want to take you somewhere, a secret mission. Your father and the others should not know, it is a surprise.”

Hours later, two cloaked figures quickly depart the palace. It isn’t difficult, after all, Loki knows how to shield himself from Heimdall’s eyes and his familiarity with the secret passages means Modi and he can escape without difficulty. 

The main question is, for how long? 

The trip has been eye-opening for Modi Thorson. For once, he is not shielded as a prince but allows to see the world outside the palace. He has finally experienced all the adventures Uncle Loki once told him about, the mystical creatures and the everchanging paths. They travel on, Modi holding onto his uncle’s hand as they make way to yet another strange land. During the day, they continue their travel and behold unseen sights. At night, his uncle always manages to find uninhabited caves nearby that are furnished for a good night’s sleep with his sorcery. The night’s coldness does not affect Modi much, as the slumbering boy is safely tugged into the arms of the raven-haired man. 

Time flies and soon the two reach the fifth month of their trip, and despite the excitement and discovery, the fatigue catches up with them. Modi falls ill one day, too weak to continue but his uncle insists on carrying the boy on his back as they continue their journey. The man seems persistent to keep moving, something that confuses Modi as he sees little reason to hurry. But days later, even Loki himself can no longer endure the hardship; Modi wakes up one morning and finds his uncle drenched in sweat and feverish in their little cave. 

They have no choice, they have to stay for another night. 

That evening, there is a storm raging as Modi huddles closer to his weak uncle. He is still a boy, after all, despite believing himself to be braver than one. The sound of thunder leaves the child shivering as he clings to Loki, who slowly runs his fingers through Modi’s golden hair. The two have developed a bond in the past few months, one that Modi hangs onto in such a stormy night. 

The newfound sense of security, however, is broken when the lightning strikes the ground outside the cave, bringing a strong vibration in the cave. When Modi opens his eyes again, he beholds the shape of a towering figure at the entrance.  

His uncle sees it too. 

Loki is frantic, throwing bolts of magic spells that proved to be futile to the man that approaches them. His illness must have weakened his invisibility spell, so Heimdall saw them and informed Thor of their location. Their escape has proven to be in vain. Drenched in the rain, Thor looks tired as he moves closer to his brother and child. 

When everything fails to work, Loki throws himself forward with a dagger in hand and shields Modi with his body. But his efforts are far too weak, almost pathetic in comparison to his brother whose stature casts large shadows in the cave. Modi sits frozen in the corner, like an actor who has forgotten his part. He knows his father has come for him, but he seems to be irrelevant in the confrontation unfolding before him.

The struggle before him ceases when the God of Mischief breaks down and weeps, holding onto the boy as he backs away from his brother, 

“I have no choice! Odin keeps everything for you when he is happy to take away everything from me! How dare he! How dare Odin keeps my child away from me? He would rather have our child be borne by a nameless wrench than his own son! The boy is mine! He has always been mine!” He howls as he clutches Modi closer to him, fearing that in a split second, the child will once again be taken away from him. 

It all makes sense now, why Modi has always felt close to his uncle, and why he chose to abandon his home to stay close to the man. Perhaps unconsciously, he has always known that Loki means more to him than he realises. The man crying before him might be the God of Lies, but Modi knows from his heart that what the man had said was no lie.

Clasped in Loki’s hold, Modi slowly lets his arms encircle his estranged parent, and he relaxes in the embrace. He turns around to meet his father’s gaze, with expectation in his eyes.  

Thor puts down Mjolnir, as he walks closer to the family he was forced to deny, “Brother, if only you had listened. I come here not to condemn you, but to take you home. Our father is now in Odinsleep, and I am now King. The time has come, Loki, for me to bring you back to the court. I can now show everyone the truth of Modi’s parentage.” 

Kneeling down before his lover and child, Thor kisses Loki’s shivering form, “You don’t have to hide in the shadows anymore, brother."

Embracing the two in his arms, Thor rests his forehead on them as he whispers, "Come home.” 

[archetype-online-blog]

Archetype’s Great Choose Your Own Villain Adventure

You’ve finally done it — you have written an amazing hero.

She has all of your own best traits: kindness, bravery, stubbornness, cute glasses. You don’t know if you want to be her or marry her. Readers will see themselves in her and dress to match her style. Critics will fear her. And best of all, she is wholly, undeniably, ready carrying the weight of your complex plot.

But now you need to craft your antagonist. And this fellow really needs to measure up.

Don’t worry, though—in this post, we’ll break down some of the many tools you can turn to when creating someone to foil your protagonist’s plans.

Just how bad is bad?

A.  An Evil Villain? This villain has no morals, or if she does, she buried them deep down a long time ago. She’ll sacrifice her family, friends, and everyone’s free will for eternal beauty, unlimited power, or world domination. Think the Evil Queen from Snow White or Sauron from Lord of the Rings.

B.  A Disgruntled Opponent? This villain's had a lifelong streak of bad luck. His parents were killed by someone eerily similar to the hero, global warming flooded his lair last week, and the hero spilled coffee on his pants while saving a cat from a tree this morning. Really, all he wants is a nap—if he has to chain up a few good guys for some peace and quiet, it’s no more than he deserves. Think Luke Castellan from the Percy Jackson series.

C.  A Good Person with Questionable Goals? Rational people presented with the same situation won’t always agree, because at the end of the day all people, even equally good people, have different values and morals. If your hero wants to flip the switch and save five people on the train track but your antagonist doesn’t think the one man on the other side should die, you’re probably going for this dynamic. This is Captain America: Civil War through and through.

Just how serious are they?

A.  Funny and exaggerated? A villain like this is there to put a wrench in your hero’s plans (and probably provide lots of comic relief), but not seriously threaten anyone with bodily harm. They may think they’re irredeemable and say they couldn’t care less about another person, but they’re either confused or wildly incompetent. Think about it: nobody believes Dr. Doofenshmirtz is going to do anything more than mildly inconvenience them.

B.  Menacing and exaggerated? Your villain shoots lasers out of their eyes. Their knuckles are embedded with knives. One whiff of their breath causes paralysis. One word from their mouth has civilians leaping off cliffs. They wear only black, and their evil lair says “Evil Lair” on the front door. They also probably have a lot of henchpeople. Basically, everything about them screams Bad Guy, to the point where it’s definitely not realistic. A good example is Gru from Despicable Me.

C.  Spookily realistic to the point of goosebumps? The world is a scary place, and sometimes it’s important to represent that in your work. Antagonists can be made all the worse by the fact that they’re just regular people doing reprehensible, unforgivable things. Think Frollo in Hunchback of Notre Dame or Mother Gothel in Tangled—attempted sexual assault and child abuse are no joke.

Was your antagonist …

A.  Brought into being because of the actions of your hero? Some villains might have been a cashier down at the 7-Eleven if it wasn’t for that chance encounter with your hero all those years ago. Now, though, they’ve sworn to get revenge for their slighted pride—stupid heroes and their ego, right? Buddy Pine, AKA Syndrome from The Incredibles, is a great example of this.

B.  Morally transformed by a dramatic life event? Sometimes good people do bad things when they’re under a lot of stress, especially if they’ve been traumatized. Have they been forced to make an impossible choice with consequences that haunt them? Tortured because they were good? Watched their family die? Depending on who you ask, the Punisher falls into this category.

C.  Doing the wrong thing for the right reasons? Sure, your antagonist stole the diamonds and fired a warning shot at the reception outside the gala, but the real baddie is holding her wife hostage at home. Your hero would have done the same thing—right? Think the origin story of the Hook-Handed Man from A Series of Unfortunate Events, or Killmonger from Black Panther.

On a related note, does your antagonist …

A.  Have a history with your hero? In many cases, the protagonist and the antagonist go way back. Maybe they were once friends (this has tons of potential—do they know each other’s weaknesses? Have certain pet peeves they’ve sworn never to exploit?), or maybe they’ve just fought about this issue many times before. Have they dated? Were their parents friends? Think Catra from Netflix’s She-Ra reboot.

B.  Fear your hero’s reputation? This antagonist knows your hero is coming, and as much as he tries to deny it, he knows he’s not ready. Maybe there’s a prophecy. Maybe the hero just has a really good PR team. Either way, the villain is going to try to shoot first—and if he misses, he probably won’t get another chance. Voldemort.

C.  Have no interest in your hero whatsoever — the hero wants to stop them, but they don’t think the hero is a threat. There’s always a chance, though, that your villain doesn’t even think your hero is worth the time of day. Maybe they’ve heard of him, maybe they haven’t—what does it matter when they’re not going to be stopped either way? This villain feels toward your hero what Irene Adler feels toward Sherlock Holmes—totally unbothered, and maybe occasionally amused.

Other fun questions to ask:

Do they have a sidekick? Why does that sidekick serve them?

Do they have an accent? Is it real or for effect?

Do they have powers? Do they wish they did?

Do they have a color scheme?

Does something dramatic happen every time they come into the room (lightning strikes, mirrors crack, a woman screams, etc.)

If left in the room with a wailing baby, how would they handle it?

If left in the room with a barking dog, would they handle that differently?

What are they afraid of?

Things to be cautious of:

Excusing appalling behavior via redemption.

Some things are just inexcusable—or at least, they should be, if we don’t want to contribute to the negative energy out there in the world. So ask yourself … has your antagonist beaten their wife? Sexually abused someone? Harmed children? Acted extremely racist? Gleefully supported fascism? Brutally killed their own father in cold blood?

If you answered yes to any of these questions, think really carefully before planning a redemption arc.

If you want your villain to turn to the good side by the end, they can still do villainous things. They can lie, they can betray those who are close to them, they can plot world domination, they can even kill. But there are lines you probably can’t let them cross if you don’t want them to be hated by your other characters for all eternity. Let’s put it this way—Aladdin, whose worst crime is stealing bread, is redeemable. Loki, who was supposedly being mind-controlled during the first Avengers film, is questionable. Hannibal Lecter, who eats people, is a lost cause.

A really, really phenomenal example of a villain doing sometimes-okay things and yet not being excused for his misdeeds is Count Olaf from A Series of Unfortunate Events—both the books and the Netflix series. There are genuine, emotional reasons he’s a terrible person, and he even does halfway decent things every once in a while. And yet, he’s not forgiven by the characters or the narrative, and he’s treated as the villain he is until the bitter end. Actually, A Series of Unfortunate Events is great at this all around:

Charles: You have to understand, he had a very terrible childhood. Klaus: I understand. I’m having a very terrible childhood right now.

A less great example is Severus Snape from Harry Potter. When it’s revealed that he loved Lily and occasionally didn’t have it out for Harry by the very end of Deathly Hallows, it’s like the narrative wants us to forget about his bullying, bigotry, attempted genocide, child abuse, pet-murdering, deception, and every other foul thing he gets up to for thousands of pages.

Queer coding. There’s this thing Disney does that you might be familiar with. Let’s pick a few examples and see if you can pinpoint it.

Simba vs. Scar

Hercules vs. Hades

John Smith vs. Governor Ratcliffe

Ariel vs. Ursula

That’s right—male villains tend to be more effeminate and delicate than their tough heroic counterparts, and female villains are hell-bent on corrupting sweet, innocent princesses. Even if the characters themselves aren’t meant to be read as gay—even if they don’t appear gay at all, aside from the coded traits—there’s a history of this being used to reinforce negative stereotypes.

That’s not to say that you can’t have gay villains—make everyone LGBT+, if you want. Goodness knows there are enough straight characters out there to last several lifetimes. But if only the villains are gay, and all the heroes are straight, you’re getting into the dangerous territory of suggesting that the traits that villains have are traits that only gay people have, and vice versa.

The same thing applies to race—if all your antagonists are black or Asian or Jewish or Romani and all your heroes are white, what does that say about how your readers should view good and evil? And if all your villains are disabled or mentally ill and your heroes are able-bodied, might you end up spreading the wrong message?

Writing diverse stories is amazing and so, so worth it! But it’s definitely going to take extra sensitivity and care—so make sure you’re fully committed, or you risk doing more harm than good in the end.

Questions? Concerns? Send us your thoughts at contact@archetypeonline.org or leave us a comment!

[companionhell]

Fo4 companions hold their and soles kid for the first time (bonus points if synth Shaun gets to hold them too) (double bonus points if u include the name the companions pick and the gender of the child) tank u!!

I only included the companions who are, uh, physically capable of having children without significant scientific intervention, so no synths or ghouls (which rules out 5 people). I can do them too, though, if you want, with a little tweaking of the canon- we don’t have to tell Todd. Just ask if you do! Also, I put Shaun as a separate reaction rather than adding him to each one, because his reaction would be pretty similar regardless of who the companion was.

Cait: Cait had never thought herself the parenting type. But she agreed to help look after Shaun, mostly because of how much it meant for Sole- it was the least Cait could do for them, really. And she discovered that she didn’t really mind being around children- Shaun kind of found her intimidating, yeah, but that just meant he’d listen to her better, plus he bizarrely shared some of Cait’s sense of humor. So when she figured out she was pregnant, after much consideration, Cait decided she’d keep the child. After all, if she had to be a parent with anyone, she’d definitely choose Sole.

Cait didn’t truly understand Sole’s parental attachment to Shaun, though, until she was holding her baby boy after hours and hours of excruciating labor. Much like her drug treatment, she screamed and swore and wanted to claw her own face out- but afterwards, oh, the reward was so sweet. She stared at him with an almost-soft look on her face, speaking to her son, Flann, in the same tone of voice she used for everyone. “Put up a hell of a fight, didn’t you, kid?” Cait laughed when Flann looked up at her. “That’s my boy.”

Deacon: After Deacon lost Barbara, he’d also lost all hope of ever having a loving partner, of ever having a family. He felt luckier than he deserved to find Sole, someone who could be with him, that he’d never ask for more. But then Sole asked him to help raise Shaun, and he was… just so happy. Deacon kept it cool, of course, because that’s what he did, but he was glad to have a role in the family. Even if he was an adopted father, he still had a son, and that had been all he ever wanted. Of course, that didn’t rival the pure amount of emotion Deacon felt when he learned Sole was pregnant. He almost didn’t believe it.

Regardless of Deacon’s disbelief, his beautiful baby girl was born some months later. He took off his sunglasses to better look at his daughter, Harper, at the manifestation of everything perfect and innocent in the world, and at the person he loved so much holding her. Deacon hadn’t remembered what it felt like to be this happy, and though a note of bittersweet regret and self-deprecation stained it, he still reached out for his daughter. He gently cradled her to his chest, rocking and watching her tiny hand wrap around his thumb. “Hi there, Harper,” Deacon said. He felt like he might cry, but he held it together. “Welcome to the world, kiddo. It’s not so bad out here.”

Gage: Gage had been shocked and nervous when Sole asked him to help out with Shaun, but when he looked at it simply, it made sense. He was one of the only ones they trusted- which was smart in the raiding career. Leaving Shaun alone would put a target on his back for any asshole who wanted revenge on Sole. And as long as Sole and Gage were both around, Shaun might as well answer to both of them. It was the execution of those truths that shook him up, but he followed through. Treated Shaun a little gentler than anyone else, though still kind of gruffly- kid had to be tough, after all. But Gage was still pretty surprised when Sole told him they’d be keeping the pregnancy.

He wasn’t going to question their decision- Gage could respect their choice. But he was almost baffled at how much Sole trusted some dick like him, both to help raise Shaun and to have a kid of his own. It was confusing, but also touching, in a weird sort of way that Gage wasn’t likely to admit, but fuck it, he wouldn’t let Sole down. They were the only person that he knew had his back. He’d have theirs too. So after his son was born, Gage stood over the bed, laughing a little at the difference between the tired-as-hell Sole and the tiny baby they held. With some awkward instruction, he managed to hold the boy, Tanner, and really look at him. Gage didn’t know much about babies, but he thought the kid had smart eyes. Tanner would grow up right- he’d make sure of it.

MacCready: There was a reason he couldn’t stop smiling around Sole. For a while, MacCready had lost the only family he had. His wife was dead, his son was ill and far away. But somehow, though he was the last person to deserve it, MacCready had found a loving partner, even another son. He was happier than words could say. Heck, if Sole had someone they could leave Shaun with, they even made the trip down to get Duncan, brought him to the Commonwealth, started their new life together. So when MacCready heard Sole was pregnant... damn, he’d thought he couldn’t be any happier, but he was wrong.

Once their baby boy arrived, MacCready excitedly spent every minute by Sole’s bed. He had three sons- three sons! He couldn’t believe it. MacCready sat there, grinning like an idiot and just taking in the sight of his wonderful partner, the best person in the world, holding their kid, who they’d decided months earlier to name Carson. At the earliest opportunity, he held his boy, careful to support Carson’s head, and the love he felt was so overwhelming that MacCready found himself tearing up. “Hey, buddy,” he said, looking at his beautiful son. “Oh man, I can’t wait till your brothers meet you.”

Piper: Piper liked kids. This was clear by the affectionate nicknames she called Nat, by the way she ruffled Shaun’s hair and always asked him to fix the printing press, by how she gave sweets to the Diamond City kids if they asked. She loved her family more than she could say, Nat and Sole and Shaun, and found herself content in the rhythm of her new life. So though Piper had never pictured herself a mother so young, she was immediately excited for the addition to the Wright-Sole household. This would definitely be some adventure.

Piper didn’t deal with pain super well, so the whole labor process was kind of hellish for her, but once she was holding her little daughter, she found herself newly occupied. The contractions could have been ten times worse, and it’d still be worth it. She wrapped the tiny baby, her little Bea, in a blanket, pressing a kiss to her head. Piper spent the next while looking at her baby, playing with her and cooing and remembering when Nat was so young. "Hey, Bea,” she said softly. “You’re gonna like it out here, I swear. And you’re gonna love your big brother and your Auntie Nat. Just wait and see.”

Preston: Preston had always wanted to settle down with a family. It wasn’t very ambitious, sure, but it just seemed right for him. So he felt pretty damned lucky when he found Sole, just about the most perfect person in the Commonwealth. They were brave, generous, kind, charitable, and, best of all, they loved him. Preston was so, so happy to have them in his life, to get to help raise their son. This was the family life he’d wanted. It was a whole different level of happy, though, when Sole told him they were pregnant.

After several months of preparations (Preston wanted everything to be right), his daughter was born, and Preston loved her from the moment he set eyes on her. This feeling was really... was really something. He’d been smiling the whole time- hell, he’d been smiling pretty much constantly since Sole told him- but once Sole handed him his daughter, carefully wrapped in a little bundle, his beam turned up to eleven. He even got a little emotional, his eyes getting watery as Preston looked at a miracle. “Welcome home, Elizabeth,” he said, pressing his lips against her forehead. “God, I love you so much.”

Shaun: Shaun waited outside, tinkering with a machine, but his mind was really on his mother/father. Sole had said he would soon have a new younger sibling, and he was so excited that he couldn’t fully concentrate on his inventions for months. Once Sole told Shaun it was alright to enter, he got up and ran through the door, ready to finally see his little brother/sister. And once he did, he smiled at the sight- his mother/father held the baby, carefully transferring the child to him. Shaun quickly learned how to hold a baby (he was a smart kid, after all), and the new addition to the family made him as happy as a little boy could be.

[zichiandhisnonsense]

I see at least one (1) person is interested in my bad DM ramble, so that’s good enough for me! I shall shove this ramble under a readmore too because it gets preeeetty long

Okay, so cut back to 2015/16, my last year in university. I stumbled upon an advertisement in my classroom for the campus’ d&d and board gaming group. I thought “y’know what? I’ll give it a go, I do play d&d online but I have yet to experience an in-person game, y’know?”

I had no idea what I was about to experience.

Now, the first session was an experimental piece. Everyone played munchkin, a couple of board games, got to know each other etc etc, there was also 2 DMs and so we got split up into groups. Once we were acquainted with each other, we learned it was d&d 3.5 and we learned the groups we were playing in, it was time to pack up and let the LGBT society have the room. Everyone would make their characters and e-mail the DM if we got stuck and he was nice enough to trust we wouldn’t cheat, but that would be his only redeeming quality as DM... Well, that and he didn’t force an over-powered DMPC.

Now, as this was a new group and there were plenty of newbies, I rolled a dwarf cleric named Halrin Stonebeard and I kept my backstory and personality simple. (Clan halls raided by dragon, took up adventuring to become strong enough to challenge dragon & find allies). I normally play wizards, but I figure I would play a supportive role who could buff, heal and protect my allies.

Let’s cut to the start of the first session, we all meet back up and learn a bit about each other’s characters, the only woman in the group was playing a halfling rogue, who would later become a close friend of Halrin. They both acted as the voice of reason and caution but were able and willing to bash some heads in. Then there was the next player, a pretty fun and boisterous guy who was playing a Half-Orc Monk who basically maxed strength and did what he could for everything else. There was also two newbies. One newbie played an elf ranger, with a massive focus on using the longbow and the other one was a gnome cleric. Now, the DM immediately had a gunning for the gnome cleric, purely because he was a gnome and the DM hated gnomes. Never mind it was a newbie who he made feel like he made a terrible decision, but nothing comes out of it for a while... There were a few other players but this is now 3 years ago and I can’t remember them all, unfortunately.

So we gather round the table, level 1 characters ready and all eager...

Aaaand we all begin in a dungeon

Now, this is a massive pet peeve of mine. The ‘begin in a dungeon’ thing had been done to death in my online games, literally everyone who DM’d had done some form of it and I had grown so damn bored of it. And I’ll be honest, it’s a terrible way to start with completely new players. ‘Hey, all those cool abilities you just got? I’ll be taking those away.’

So we were all chained up and struggling to get out. Naturally, HR (Halfling Rogue) escaped with ease and the HoM (Half Orc Monk) busted his way out. Everyone else was basically ‘well fuck looks like we’re stuck here’ until the other two saved us. Naturally, HoM was the MVP for this first section, suffering no penalties due to having no reliance on equipment. He punched his way through and we all just sorta followed behind.

At some point in the dungeons, we come across a guard dog who does some serious damage to one of the newbie players. Not wanting to hurt the dog, I try non-lethal damage on the creature and actually get lucky. As fun-flavour text, I claim I suplexed the dog. Keep this bit in mind. I dealt non-lethal damage to a dog that nearly killed one of the newbies. 

Cut forward to the end of the dungeon, we are met by a platoon of dragon rider knights. (I’ll admit, back then me ‘DMPC Mary Sue alert’ alarm went off) They explained that the whole dungeon was a challenge set by the local king/lord and having escaped, said ruler wished to speak to us. We got all our gear back and were ‘escorted’ by the dragon knights. It felt a little (a lot) railroading, but I didn’t sweat it at the time.

Now here comes the first ‘bad dm’ alarm. The first call that made me go “dude, what the fuck” at this guy. So one newbie player -the elf ranger- was finding the whole march-in-silence thing to be kinda boring and decided he wanted to pet one of the dragons. The DM allowed him.

“The dragon bites your hand off”

No save. No ‘what’s your ac’, just straight up hand bitten off. Now as a reminder for you guys, this newbie player was intending his ranger to be an archer. And archery requires two hands to pull off. And he just got one bitten off. His character is basically screwed, stuck to using a longsword and nothing else.

And the DM won’t go back either, what’s said is said or w/e. So with that out the way we’re suddenly at the king’s chambers. Y’know, no opportunity for any players to react to this utter bullshit. And we get given our main quest.

The ruler’s scouts report a large orc army approaching from the Northeast and he wants us to scout the army and maybe delay it while he mobilizes his forces, or something. I don’t remember the exact wording but key concept was “Orc army” “help pls”. Never mind the fucking dragon-rider platoon right next to us. Given how it’s the obvious main quest we accept, and we get given magical items to aid in our quest.

I can’t remember what everyone else got, but thankfully the DM wasn’t enough of a dick to give the one-armed ranger a longbow. I remember that I got a “Ring of Healing”. Basically, whenever I cast a healing spell, I healed an extra 10%, rounded down.

Now, let’s pause again and quickly talk about that.

First of all, I actually knew what I was doing with my character, and Halrin had a lot of protection/defending spells prepared, shield of faith and whatnot. I knew that it’s better to spend 1 spell to give a buff that blocks damage, than to heal some of the damage taken, so it’s not the best item anyway.

Then I re-read that. 10%, rounded down.

For those who don’t know, in d&d3.5, cure light wounds (the only healing spell I know) heals 1d8+your cleric level HP, not +wisdom. And we were level... 1.

1d8+1 = 9 max. And it rounds down.

This ring was literally useless to me right now. Even when we levelled up and my cure light wounds healed 1d8+2, that was a 10% chance this ring would activate. It was pathetic.

Okay, so let’s cut a few sessions as the party travels to the potential battlefield to meet with other defenders of more or less filler. One-Armed Ranger is constantly screwed over because when we level up, Rangers in 3.5 get two choices: Specialize in Archery (which is no longer an option) or specialize in...

... Two Weapon Fighting. So yeah, he picks archery on the hope that he can get his hand healed as a reward for saving the town and go back to his original archer-build, not half a fighter.

But anyway, time passes, in game and irl. I end up missing a session due to illness, and when I come back, half-orc monk is dead, revived as a zombie.

Basically, the party reached the frontier, only to find the orcs beginning to attack and most/all of the defenses gone. It was so obviously the DM trying to TPK us. But the Monk managed to pull something off, what exactly I don’t know, but he did it with three natural 20s in a row and successfully routed the orc army, but died in the event.

However, he didn’t stay dead, because death was missing. Yeah, I was fucking confused too.

See, what we didn’t realize/weren’t told was that the 2 DMs were working on a shared universe idea, and both groups were running around on separate parts of the world. The other group had apparently done something that caused death to go missing, which meant that souls were not being taken to the afterlife and were remaining on the material plain. Of course, the monk took a fuckload of penalties (charisma and constitution being the worst-hit) but he considered it a fair trade, saving the party from a TPK.

I think, however, that’s when the DM began secretly harbouring a grudge and determined to fuck us over so hard.

So cut forward to a few sessions, and the gnome cleric dies. When his spirit is unable to pass on, it inhabits the body of a rabbit.

Yes, the spirit doesn’t return to the body, the DM has the gnome become a rabbit. And you thought the elf got fucked over? Oh boy were you wrong. The gnome now had no damage output. He couldn’t use weapons, his claw attack was “one damage” and even worse, he couldn’t use 99% of his spells. The player successfully managed to keep one language, sylvan (which no one else spoke) but the DM then said because he had paws and not hands, he couldn’t cast any somatic components, which is more or less all cleric spells. Worse still, because of this death-curse, he couldn’t just kill himself and roll a new character. He was stuck, for two sessions, unable to do anything.

Even better, at the start of the next session, the DM revealed he had ‘made a mistake’. The mistake? The monk wasn’t supposed to return to his body, so his character, at the start of a session, got retconned out of existence and he had to spend the first half of the session making a new character.

The session after however, I think the grim repear was rescued/replaced, so the gnome was basically “I climb up and jump” and killed himself. He said he’d have a new character ready for the next game...

He never came back. I wonder why.

Also, the half-orc monk player was now playng a lawful evil hobgoblin knight, and I think he had decided to fuck with the GM as much as possible in retaliation for the bullshit he had to deal with.

Now, let’s cut a few more sessions, and at some point, the ranger has the opportunity to heal his hand. He goes through with it... And ends up with two left hands.

At this point, the player decided to reroll a new character and says his elf is retiring, traumatised and damaged by the experiences. He says he’ll have his new character ready for the next game...

He never came back. You guys sensing a pattern here?

So some time after that we get to an interesting sub-story that some of us are actually interested in. The starting town with the dungeon had been taken over by a lich and we were asked to put a stop to it. Naturally we were all eager, being good-aligned players and/or in it for the lich loot. At this point, we are joined by a few new players. Alongside out dwarf cleric, halfling rogue/fighter and hobgoblin knight, we have a half orc druid who is “really fucking old” (and I’m worried the GM is secretly rolling for ‘dies of old age’ every night), and the other two players... Okay, so it got a bit weird here.

So, a friend of the DM decides he wants to have a go at DMing, and in order to give him a taste and because the DM is getting bored, this guy takes over the game. The DM isn’t like “hey, run a one-shot” or “hey, run a published module”, he goes “hey take over this game that I know all the solutions for and is half way through and everyone is level 7 and things are super complex”.

Surprisingly, the new-DM is pretty competent for the one session he runs, and I think he deliberately changes some things to prevent former-DM from screwing things up. But yeah, former-DM and his girlfriend decide to join in and holy fuck their characters were... Well...

So, DM played a human paladin, but he played him as like a private investigator, who would get to the bottom of a case and find the truth, instead of a crusading knight. I was actually pretty impressed... Until he basically took control of the party and inserted himself as the leader, which was a role myself and halfling-rogue had been sharing as the ‘sanest party members and only surviving original members’. His girlfriend played the DM’s secretary... And was basically a super-smoking-hot everybody-loves-me elf sorceress. I was almost tempted to change Halrin from bisexual to gay just to avoid her deus-sex-machina’ing me, but fortunately it was just kept to the DM.

So, with our rag-tag bunch of misfits, we infiltrate the castle using all of our skills. The castle siege was perhaps one of the most fun things we ever did and everybody got to have a role in doing something, whether it was the druid inspiring the horses in the stable to run amok, the rogue sneaking in and lowering the drawbridge, the knight and myself bottle-necking the lich’s minions and the sorceress getting some fireballs into the bottleneck.

So, the siege ends and the guest-DM is done, back to the old DM! His girlfriend also disappears, I guess she got bored or something, but that’s not my problem. The DM has it so that they leave to help the surviving townsfolk escape while we combat the lich.

The lich fight is actually pretty awesome, all things considered. I basically got to go super sayan with the spell “divine power” and the battle was an epic clash... And then...

And then...

And. THEN.

The DM fucks up the entire game by revealing that “SURPRISE, THE LICH IS YOUR FAULT!”

So, remember that dog I non-lethally took down? At the start of the game? Dealing NON-LETHAL DAMAGE?

IT DIED FROM IT’S NON-LETHAL WOUNDS.

And apparently, the dog was the court mage’s favourite pet, so obviously, the court mage TURNED HIMSELF INTO A LICH TO REVIVE HIS DOG.

THAT WAS THE REVEAL.

THE ENTIRE LICH THING WAS OUR FAULT.

SHAME ON YOU PLAYERS, FOR NON-LETHALLY KILLING HIS DOG.

I was literally speechless at the table, and told the DM, to his face, “you’re just making shit up, aren’t you?”

Oh, and the session immediately afterwards, he made me kill a demon baby that the male half orc gave birth to.

And in the same session, he tricked the hobgoblin knight into killing two gnomes because with the information provided, it’s what his knightly vows would have him do... and made lose all of his knight powers.

AND WE AREN’T EVEN DONE, GUYS.

[clarketomylexa]

It Rained In Seattle

Clexa Week 2018, Day 2, Constantly Mistaken For A Couple | read on ao3 | part II

The sun shone and the flowers bloomed and it rained in Seattle.

Those were the truths that Clarke knew, but in peeling the water-logged raincoat back from the three-year-old’s cough-rattled frame, she wished she didn’t, if only to save the way her heart cracked under the weight of the ugly sound.

Who thought adopting a child on her own would be a good idea, anyway? In a city she hadn’t grown up in, without the support of her parents? She realised now with corroding guilt why the social working had looked at her askance when Clarke explained her situation.

Legally, the stiff-nosed woman with her clipboard and bic pen couldn’t do anything to stop the adoption going through. Clarke had good a good job with better prospects – the name Griffin, as in Abigail Griffin the chief of Neuro at Mount Sinai had its perks –  and a stable home environment that would be certainly better for the orphaned victim of the car wreck that had killed her parents than the group home social services had set up for her. But she had advised Clarke, strongly one might say, to find a sturdy support system.

Seven months later, drowning in online forums and sugar-free juice boxes, that was the one thing the blonde was still in search for.

The rained sleeted down. The handle of her front door was stagnant under her heavy-handed rattle. “Shit.” Clarke shook the pockets of her rain jacket as the face of the little girl by her knees twisted comically. “Andy,” the blonde counched on the wet stone of her stoop, grimacing at the dampness that seeped through the denim. “Do you know where Mommy put her keys?”

The three-year-old jabbed a wet finger at the glass panel beside the door and Clarke groaned at the sight of her kering sitting on the hall table. Her phone was dead too – it had been on ten percent when they left the house for a park down the street that they had found sodden and water-logged.

Andy coughed, a harsh, wet sound that rattled in her chest and Clarke winched, adjusting the neckline of her sweater over the three-year-old’s collarbone, thinking about her keys and how she had managed to walk out of the house without them.

It had been a hectic afternoon admittedly, Andy was fussy and the both of them were going stir-crazy from cabin fever – ‘Dora’ was only education the first four times around. But there had been a break in the weather, her little girl had sat herself in front of the window in the living room with Gilbert the ill-proportioned bear wedged under her chin, to watch the passage of the lone patch of blue across the sky. Tugging on the cuff of Clarke’s sweater and prying her from her laptop on the kitchen counter when it was above them. She had big eyes and Clarke’s memorized promise on her lips, the one she had made the day she was late picking Andy up from daycare because she had had to cover another doctor’s shift with unbound reluctance because it meant she couldn’t take her little girl to the park on the way home.

Which way why Clarke had caved so easily when Andy reminded her with big eyes, and had bundled her into rainboots and a coat, trying to ignore the annoying inkling that told her she wasn’t doing enough as she sat on the cool bench by the playground and watched the three-year-old splash puddle water into her boots.

She told herself Andy didn’t care – that at her age she was more preoccupied with the crepe paper hearts her daycare teacher had promised they would make for Valentines next week – but Clarke was a hot mess with a three-year-old and a month-old promotion that had her working like a pack mule. This was going to be the straw that broke her.

Pressing Andy’s frame to the side of her leg, Clarke eyed her neighbours porch across the dip of their shared driveway. Hers was a contemporary looking, semi-detached townhouse that her mother had helped her fund when she got her residency out here and the yellow-gold light spilling from the glass encased entrance next to her was like a beacon against the steadying dim of early evening.

Mouth twisting, Clarke made her choice.

“C’mon sweetheart,” she cooed, She pulled the child onto her hip, feeling her feet swing in their dripping rain boots and draped her sodden yellow rain jacket over her arm. Andy sneezed, cold nose in Clarke’s neck and she pulled her closer.

“Lexa?” Andy whined, tongue tripping through her teeth.

“Yeah,” Clarke confirmed, pressing the doorbell with a bluing finger and brushing limp strands of blonde hair out of her face, hoping she didn't look like a drowned sewer dweller as she bounced Andy further up her him, shivering involuntarily.

A dog yipped behind the door. ‘Fish!’ the familiar voice barked in retaliation. ‘Upstairs,’ it ordered, ‘now.’ When her neighbour opened the door she was sweater-clad and glasses-wearing – round, tortoiseshell frames around her eyes – jeans rolled up at the ankle showcasing ridiculous Pippy Long Stocking-esque striped socks.

“Hi.” Clarke trapped her breath in her chest and appraised Lexa’s reaction to them, rain soaked and shivering, but the brunette grinned.

“The intrepid adventurers are back from the park, I see,” she smiled and it warmed Clarke from her stomach. Intrepid was certainty a word for them, mud clung to their boots and there was wet grass in Andy’s hair from a head-first dive off the wet slide.

Clarke smiled, “I’m sorry,” she apologised in earnest. “I left my keys inside and the security company has the spare but my phone is flat, would you mind if I called them from your landline?” Andy sneezed again, violently so that the tremors shook her frame and Clarke soothed her hands up the vertebrae of her spine thinking that the timing couldn’t have been better if Clarke had coached her.

“Not at all,” Lexa opened the door for them and Clarke sagged in an all-encompassing kind of relief that echoed in her cold bones. She toed off her rain boots, juggling child and sodden rain jacket and Lexa tsked quietly.

“Here,” she offered, her voice a low hum. She pulled a shivering Andy into her arms and the child found solace in the warmth of the familiar sweatered chest, giggling a half-hearted ‘exa,’ syllables slurred into one another in exhaustion.

It was past six, Clarke guessed, they would usually be halfway through dinner and thinking about a bath now, as per the haphazard routine Clarke had established when an online parenting website had prescribed it as a must. She was still ironing out the kinks of it; understanding that Andy was fussy about eating dinner – the dietitian was third on her to-do list – but clapped happily through her bath. How the three-year-old should be put down early because the usually outgoing child clung to Clarke like a bush baby at the prospect of her bed and how she was skittish around busy highways so that Clarke had to stick to suburban streets and ease her back into it as per the suggestion of the family therapist they had appointments with monthly.

Hands now free, Clarke hung her dripping jacket on the hook by the door, hanging Andy’s by the hood over the top of her own, fingers trailing the short expanse of waterproof material before she lined up their boots beneath the rack and wiggled her toes in the sagging ends of her socks. She peeled them off too.

“How did her vaccinations go on Tuesday?” Lexa asked as they made their way upstairs. Clarke’s hair hung limp and there was water under the collar of her sweater. She wrung it out with cold hands.

“Good,” Clarke nodded, “she fussed a bit at the doctor’s office but I bribed her with mint-chip ice-cream and she brightened up.”

“Ah,” Lexa grinned, “you have good taste Dee.” Andy smiled at the soft nickname and Lexa pressed a messy kiss to where the three-year-old’s temple met the unruly line of her unbrushed hair and released the child, feet kicking in soggy socks, onto the plush carpet of Lexa’s living room. They watched her go wheeling to the sofa in a tangle of uncoordinated limbs where the golden-brown labrador puppy cocked his head, ear fur frizzing like it had had a blow out.

“Fish!,” Andy squealed, greeting her self-proclaimed best friend. Fish yipped in happy reply, his wet nose raising to her hands. “Mommy,” her little finger pointed, “is Fish!”

“I see that baby.” Clarke stopped by her daughter on the way to where Lexa’s landline sat perched on the wall in the kitchen, readjusting the part in her hair with cold fingers – apologising in profuse little whispers for the cold – and combed the wet bangs down her forehead. A haircut, she decided, would be bumped up to fifth, above find new cereal but below procuring a spare key.

“No, house ‘b’,” Clarke raked a hand through the messy tendrils of hair freeing themselves from her half-professional bun, phone to her ear. The security company was doing its best to make her unproductive as she sat in the on call room, the long sleeve under her scrubs pushed up to her elbow.

“Do you have your four digit pin?”

Fingers fisted in her in the hair by her temple, Clarke pressed her eyes, visualising the mess of papers in the metal odds and ends rack on the kitchen bench. She would have written the pin for the security company on a post-it when she had signed up originally but she couldn’t for the life of her remember. “No,” she groaned in reply. Someone knocked on the door. “Look,” she reasoned, “can I get back to you in a day or so, I’m on call.”

“Of course ma’am.”

“Thanks.”

She ended the call and tucked her phone into the pocket of her scrubs and shrugged on her coat back on, crossing the room to open the door.

“How’s the Mrs.?”

Cocky smirk and powder blue scrubs, the dark haired nurse slung herself across the doorframe, ponytail scraped tight on the crown of her head and seemingly unphased with the dark smudge of blood on her shirt.

“You’re not funny, Octavia,” Clarke informed her as they walked. “Really?” the brunette grinned, “because I’ve been told otherwise.”

“Then you’ve been told wrong.” Clarke skimmed a patient's charts that was handed to her by a waiting intern and handed them back with a nod and a short, ‘give me five.’ She couldn’t say she regretted telling the brunette about her quiet neighbour with the labrador puppy that helped with Andy when she needed it – Octavia was the first person she became friendly with in the city and it was nice to have a confidant that wasn’t her mother a thousand miles away over the phone. Still, the teasing was getting old, Clarke refused to believe she was as smitted as her friend said.

“Anyway, it wasn’t Lexa it was the security company,” Clarke corrected her, “I called them about getting a spare key and they’re being about as helpful as usual.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Octavia hummed, like the considerably less exciting answer was a buzzkill. “We’re having after-shift drinks tonight,” she reminded the doctor, “you’re invited. Indebted practically since you’ve missed the last four times.”

“I can’t, O, I have to pick my kid up.”

Octavia picked at her scrubs and sniffed, “wow,” she teased, “that’s sad.” But the look Clarke gave her – the terse ‘please, O, I’m on the end of my tether’ look that had become a staple with the blonde – silenced her effectively. Octavia knew the weight that had descended on her friend since the introduction of Andy into her life as much as she knew the light the spread to the blonde’s eyes every time someone mentioned the three-year-old. She cared about Andy because she loved her immeasurably and no matter how many times the hospital staff had told Clarke it would be fine to bring her in every once in the while – she was the resident hospital kid, spending a month in the peds wing before Clarke offered to take her in – the doctor still felt she wasn’t doing enough. That much was painfully obvious.

“It’s okay,” the brunette conceded as they came up to a curtained off bed in the end of a ward. “I’m sure you and Lexa will have a lovely evening.”

“Octavia, if I hear another word about the romance you’ve built up between myself and my neighbour, I swear to god –” she raked the curtain back, Octavia on her heels, “– hello, Mrs. Ward, how are we this morning –” The woman replied ‘good’ and nodded in reply to the doctors perfunctory questions. She signed off the patient charts on the clipboard and shut the curtain. “She helps out with Andy,” she informed the nurse shortly, “that’s it. She doesn't like me.”

“But you like her.”

“That’s besides the question.”

“Au contraire, doctor, I believe that is precisely the question.”

Saved from further interrogation by the shrill fring of her phone, Clarke felt her heart-rate skyrocket insurmountably at the caller ID: ‘Andy’s Daycare’. She unlocked it swiftly, swallowing. “This is Clarke.”

“Hello, yes, this is Emma, from the daycare center. I’m calling about Andy.”

Clarke could feel the headache descending in her temples like the vestiges of a summer storm. “Is she okay?”

“She isn’t feeling well –” well versed, the woman on the line went to assure the doctor before she could complete her intake of breath, “– it isn’t serious. She was sick about ten minutes ago and has a mild temperature so we think it might be a stomach bug but center policy says we need you to take her home in case it’s contagious.”

She could feel the concern in Octavia’s eyes on her back where she was turned from the hall, toe of her sensible shoes kicking the linoleum. A stomach bug? She didn’t recall Andy’s teacher saying one had been going around the last time she picked her up. Or had she? Did they have child friendly painkillers at home? She resolved to swing past the pharmacy on the way to the carpark. Fisting her hand in the free tendrils of her hair, Clarke nodded, “yes,” she breathed, “yes, okay. I can be there in twenty minute.”

“Thanks, Clarke.”

“Okay, Emma.”

To Octavia, she said, “Andy isn’t well. I need to pick her up, it’s center policy.” It was a question, not a statement and the nurse nodded immediately.

“I can find cover for your shift,” she nodded, “is the kid okay?”

“Yes, it isn’t serious. They think it’s a stomach bug.” She tailed Clarke along the hall to the locker room where the blonde tugged at the mechanism of her locker until her hands shook in frustration and she had to nudge the blonde out of the way.

“Hey,” she hummed, aware of the other doctors, changing in and out of clean and dirtied scrubs. “Clarke, take a breath.” She watched her sit down on the bench in the aisle before unlocking it, handing her friend street clothes, jeans and a jacket to go over the long-sleeve rolled up under her scrubs, all of which the blonde took gingerly and pulled on without a word until she was finished and tucking her hair back again with the hairband clinging to her wrist. “Thanks, O.”

“Just take care of the kid,” she grinned, as she headed back into the hall, “and I’m still waiting on an invite to that house-warming.”

“I’ve been here for a year, it doesn’t count as a house-warning anymore!” Clarke hollered after her.

She grabbed her things – keys, wallet, phone bag – and headed to the parking lot.

She had an early shift tomorrow. She had planned on leaving Andy with Lexa in the morning as the brunette had offered to drop the three-year-old at the daycare center on her way to work, should she call her and tell her it probably wouldn't be necessary? If they were sending her home today it wasn’t likely they would let her back tomorrow. Clarke stared at her phone in the passenger seat, Octavia’s teases ringing in her head like a middle school taunt and suddenly found her situation inexplicably awkward. What were they doing?

She had to admit their relationship was unconventional at best. Friend who juggle child care would be apt, but Lexa knew some of the most intimate details of Clarke’s domestic life – the mundane mutterings at the end of a work day, the way she liked her coffee – in a way that made her sure it was more than that. Not to mention her dog was an endless source of entertainment for a fussy toddler.

Pushing her key into the ignition, she listed these things in her head as she turned onto the road, finding solace in the grey-black asphalt where existentialism lay, hands dancing on the leather of her steering wheel. She worked her thumb into a seam in the hard material.

Clarke hadn’t thought much of her neighbour when the brunette had moved in eleven months ago. The truck in their shared drive, muddy dog at her side. Her first thought had been to hope the white-gold animal wouldn’t keep her up at night but the soft-spoken woman and her labrador weren’t influencers in her insular world until they intercepted her on her doorstep five months later – the brunette’s brow dipped delicately and hair around her ears as she asked if a potential hostage situation could be the cause of the streaming child trying to Houdini her way out of the doctor’s arms.

Clarke couldn’t tell if she was joking.

Her eyes were disarming, verdant green, more-so than the greying-green grass on the verge as she offered to hold something while Clarke unlocked the door.

‘No kidnapping,’ the blonde assured her but her laugh grated on her teeth, felt like a plea for help. ‘She’s, uh, she’s mine.’

‘Yours?’

Clarke nodded and chewed her bottom lip. Barely two months into guardianship and it felt grossly disrespectful to call Andy hers. The thought ate at her. ‘Now she is.’

Lexa cocked her head. She had little dents on the bridge of her nose and reading glasses protruding from her jean pocket, Clarke could see the outline under the hem of her sweater.

‘She’s adopted.’

‘Ah.’

Andy squawked unhappily and Clarke was forced to let her down before she hurt herself. The daycare center had told her the toddler had been disruptive all day, she didn’t sleep when the other children were sleeping, she found out how to rattle the sides of her crib to wake the others and she had been temper tantruming when Clarke picked her up. She watched the three-year-old flee down the hallway, face like thunder and ruddy cheeks, with anxiety clawing at her chest and the ever growing reminder to baby proof. ‘And I’m in over my head.’

‘We all have those days. Tell – uh –’ watching Lexa stutter was like a strange contradiction to the times she had spoken to her over swapped out mail and the offending neighbour on the left hand side of them’s late night habits. The brunette was eloquent, she spoke in a timbre that Clarke likened to a lullaby but the blush that cowered under the high neck of her sweater now proved otherwise. Clarke only wished she could tuck her hair back and tease her about her ears turning pink. ‘Tell me if you ever need help, yeah? It’s just me and Fish over here,’ the brunette jerked a thumb to her house, ‘I don’t mind, honestly.’

Clarke nodded, chin dipping, ‘yeah,’ she decided, with a smile, ‘okay.’

She was certain if she analysed when ‘tell me if you ever need help’ had turned to Saturday playdates and Lexa as the second emergency contact at the daycare, the carefully constructed cavern of half-truths and assurances she built their foundation on would collapse and wind them both.

The sunlight was a weak sputtering thing by the time Clarke pulled into the daycare center, misty rain split the light like a prism but it would not be ignored, rooting its way through the greying cloud layer with the determination of Andy begging for dessert. She sat herself in her car for a minute collecting herself, going through her conversation with the teacher, ‘a mild temperature’ the woman had assured her. The blonde was a doctor and though peds wasn’t here specialty, a temperature could mean any number of things from teething – which Andy was a little too late for – to measles.

Abby said much the same.

“It’s probably a twenty-four hour bug, honey,” her mother assured her over the phone in the middle of a hospital shift. Clarke felt bad for interrupting as she sat in the front seat of her car, watching the rain gather on the windshield. “You won’t know until you see her, did they say anything was going around?”

“Not that I know of, but Octavia’s had kids in with norovirus.” The nurse had sauntered into the breakroom one day with her nose turned up exclaiming she had a kid puke on her shoes.

“Well there you go,” Abby hummed with the bedside manner of a doctor, “take her home, get her some fluids and paracetamol, I wouldn’t worry too much.”

Nodding, Clarke said her goodbye and tucked her phone into her back pocket, ducking inside to be met with pressed-nosed faces against the glass of the door in the entrance way, fingers splayed in sticky handprints.

“She’s sleeping now,” the teacher told her, ‘tsking’ quietly in the doorway of the nap room and Clarke’s bottom lep went out in sympathy for the pink-cheeked three-year-old, laying sideways on her assigned mat in the otherwise empty room.

“Thanks, Jillian,” she said to the teacher who held the door as she signed Andy out, drowsy, feverish three-year-old in arms, Dora backpack slung off her right arm. She hummed pretty words and gave sweeping kisses to the heated forehead as she buckled the three-year-old into her car seat and gave her a packet of kiddy cookies as much peace offering as distraction.

But Andy whimpered and nodded off, mousy curls in her eyes before Clarke had pulled out of the parking lot.

Clarke found out quickly when they got home that Andy was trained in the mastery of avoiding thermometers and medication – she didn’t blame her, the children’s Tylenol from the drugstore was garish pink and bubblegum flavoured, but the blonde was at her wits end and tears threatened to crawl up her throat, toxic and bubbling.

A ‘crash-clatter’ sent the pink-topped sippy cup flying. The lid snapped off the plastic rim and watering soaked the carpet of the three-year-olds room.

“Andy!” She scolded in the loud, cruel tone she promised herself she wouldn’t use. “That was naughty!” But the toddler was already stiffening, unbidden, her eyes saucered, lips bird-mouthed and unimpressed as she released a harrowing wail that made Clarke’s heart thunder. She rubbed the headache brewing where it had earlier in the day.

The house was steeped in darkness now, save the nightlight and the lamplight from Clarke’s room across the hall seeping in through the open door and Clarke dragged her hands through her loose hair, skin cool under the flimsy fabric of her sleepwear. There was a panel heater on the opposite wall but she had turned it off when she tried to put Andy down to keep the temperature low – a failed effort – and the hairs on her arm were raising against the cold.

She groped for the time on her phone, “two-oh-eight,” she sighed, and leant back over the one open side of the modified crib to rake the girl’s sweaty bangs from her forehead. Her knees ached on the floor, she had a shift in five hours and dark bruises under her eyes. Andy’s temperature was wreaking a cruel kind of havoc and and Clarke had stripped the child down to her pull-up and tied her hair loosely with the hairband clinging to her wrist but her forehead refused to cool.

Theory, Clarke was discovering, went down the plughole quickly when it came to reality.

“Andy,” she breathed through her nose and carded her hair between her fingers to refasten it, “baby,” please. Can you try to sleep.”

“No.”

It was decisive.

“For Mommy,” she whispered, “please?”

The three-year-old screeched an awful sound, clogged with mucus and gunk that made the doctor think it wasn’t a simple stomach bug. She kicked her feet against the wall in retaliation to Clarke trying to move her back to the center of the mattress where she swum in sheet and kicked-back comforters. The blonde went to catch the offending feet at which Andy scrunched her face in distress. “Stop,” she whined. “Andy!”

“Stop!”

Clarke snapped.

“Fine!”

Her body was vibrating. Everything within her shaking with the unadulterated exhaustion of building her dam, brick and mortar, against tears. She wanted to cry. She wanted to Andy to sleep. But patience waned thin at two o’clock in the morning so she snatched her phone from the floor and slammed the door on her way out into the hallway, feeling the rattle of the hinges and the way it shook her foundations to dust, listening to the retaliatory wailings on the other side of the door, feet pounding dull thuds into her skull where she felt like it would crack.

She couldn’t do this.

How fucking foolish had she been to take on the responsibility of a three-year-old on her own, in a city she didn’t know, in a job she was new to? She wasn’t good at this, she could barely get dinner on the table and guilt corroded the cavity of her chest like hot acid, she gagged on a sob as Andy wailed.

“Mommy.”

Clarke swallowed.

“Mommy!”

She pressed fists into her eyes until her head spun and she could see stars, then clasped her phone to her chest, pressing with shaking fingers and tear-blurry vision, hoping. Her breath trapped itself inside her chest like a lead balloon.

“‘ello?”

“Lexa?”

“Clarke?” the brunette’s voice was low, raspy like it was covered in the thin film of sleep and she pictured her neighbour sitting up in bed, pianist fingers sifting through bedside table clutter for the round shape of her clock. The thought alone was like a strange kind of cooling balm but then Andy screeched again and it sent her spiralling, desperation seizing her chest like her heart wanted to escape.

“I – I can get her to sleep. She’s – she’s hot – she’s got a temperature I think, but I can’t give her any more meds and she won’t sleep, she won’t drink anything, I’ve tried – oh god, I don’t know what to do.”

“Clarke –”

“– I can’t do this. I have a shift in four hours and she isn’t sleeping, I can’t –”

“Clarke, who? Andy?”

“Yes, I –”

“Do you know what her temperature is?”

“She won’t let me take it, I can’t take it –”

“That’s okay, Clarke,” the blonde leant her head against the hard panel of the bedroom door and wiped her dripping nose on her wrist. “I can be over in two minutes if that suits?” Clarke nodded, then swallowed, “okay,” she whispered, hoarse, choking on the effects of her own exhaustion and guilty desperation, “thank you.”

Lexa was there a in a minute in a half in rolled ankle jeans and yesterdays creased university tee – UC Berkeley Clarke noticed with a sloping smile – and her hair in a haphazard ponytail that had frizz curling at her hairline.

They were in the emergency room a half-hour later.

Clarke leant on her knees with the clipboard they had given her, filling out the admittance form with a blue pen and slow fingers so that her writing didn’t shake as she printed ‘guardian’ on the thin line of ‘Relationship to Individual’. Andy, left thumb tucked into her mouth, hair in sweaty pigtails, was curled into the sticky vinyl of the waiting room chairs, her head pillowed on Lexa’s jean-clad thigh, asleep – funnily enough it had been the thrum of rain on the windshield that had lulled her into a reluctant sleep and Clarke felt like an overreacting idiot even though her temperature raged and there were dark bruises forming under her eyes.

The brunette lifted the three-year-old's forehead when a receptionist returned with thin pillow and switched chairs to the one next to Clarke’s, smiling in soft sympathy when the blonde signed her name and walked over to hand the forms back, sitting down to dig the heels of her palms into her eyes.  

“I’m sorry,” she whispered watching colours kaleidoscope on her eyelids, “I’m a doctor, I should be able to handle this –”

“Clarke, no –”

“She just wouldn’t sleep and I – I’ve never been good with kids, I don’t know why I took her in, I’m ridiculous.” She took a hard, ragged breath and relished guiltily into the way it hurt when it caught in her throat, “god, this was a mistake, I’m doing everything wrong –”  

“Clarke,” soft hands slid into hers, unbidden, and pulled with little resistance until Clarke was blinking up at the harsh fluorescent light and there was hair curling at her forehead. “You’re doing nothing wrong.” Lexa was on her knees now, kneeling in front of her so that she was a little less than eye level with the blonde, tangling their fingers so that their palms were pressed together and Clarke would pull away if her head wasn’t so fuzzy, if she wasn’t sleep deprived, if guilt didn’t cling to her bones like spider webs to the tree roots Andy would root around in at the park. She in turn, clung to Lexa like a child might its blanket, simultaneously her constant and her wildcard.

“You’re doing a good thing. Andy loves you.”

Clarke shook her head, mouth tilting into a smile, this close she could see the freckle on Lexa’s top lip and the proud line of her cheekbones. “She loves you,”

“She loves Fish,” Lexa corrected and Clarke giggled wetly. Lexa’s breath danced over her cheeks and the tears that dried there.

“Griffin?” The nurse on call asked form behind the desk, eyes flicking briefly through the forms on the clipboard. Lexa squeezed Clarke’s hand, “go clean up, I’ll take her in.” She rose as Clarke nodded and scooped Andy into her arms gently as to not jostle her and Clarke wiped her hands on her jeans, watching the nurse escort them down the hall before asking the receptionist for directions to the restrooms where she washed her hands and used a square of toilet paper to blow her nose. Her eyes were dark and her hair was loose and there was dinner on the collar of her shirt. She splashed warm water on her face and returned to the waiting room, sneaking down the hall to the room she knew the nurse ushered Lexa and Andy into, slipping through the half-open door with her hand in her hair, making sure it fell right.

“Hi,” she sat down, “sorry.”

“That’s fine,” the doctor was young, only a little older than her, clothes crisp, and alert. “Clarke your wife was telling me you picked Andy up from preschool early today, did they tell you if they took her temperature then? Do you know what it was?”

Clarke stiffened with a violent kind of embarrassment, redness burning on her cheeks as she rushed to correct the woman, “oh,” she swallowed, flapping an inarticulate hand, meeting Lexa’s eyes – wide with the same kind of quiet horror – “no, we’re –” she shook her head, “we’re not together.”

“Oh.” The doctor looked between them, too close in awkwardly placed chairs, Andy, flushed and red, waving a plastic wrapped sucker from the desk, cradled between Lexa’s knees. She giggled conspiratorially. “I just assumed,” the woman re-considered the forms, “I’m sorry.”

“No, no,” Clarke waved the awkwardness – unsuccessfully – away she tucked her hands between her cross legs and recalled the original question. “They didn’t tell me her temperature, I’m sorry, and she wouldn’t let me take it later.”

“Okay,” the doctor nodded, “well it’s 102.2° now.” She re-checked her notes, chewing her lip as she considered then looked back up at them. “It looks like influenza, which means, if managed correctly, she’ll be fine in a week, give or take.” The pen clicked. Clarke fiddled with the join on her jeans, she could see Lexa shifting out of the corner of her eyes. “Just make sure she stays hydrated, keep her comfortable and paracetamol every four to five hours if the fever persists. I’d recommend keeping her home for the rest of the week, mostly for her own fatigue, if nothing else, but she seems strong, she’ll get past it with no problem, I’m sure.”

The appointment over, they said their thank yous.

Clarke leant over to take Andy from Lexa and their fingers brushed, the touch prickling like fire on her wrist. She studiously avoided the brunette’s eyes as she shifted Andy further on her hip, feeling the three-year-old yanking on the collar of her shirt. “Andy,” she whispered, taking the girls hand in her own before any skin was shown.

Reddening, Lexa cleared her throat.

It was raining when they got home.

Lexa stood in the doorway, hip against the frame, watching the way it poured off the roof via the gutter and how soft Clarke looked in the yellow-white light of Andy’s night light. The blonde combed Andy’s hair back from her forehead and brown eyes blinked up at her, sleepy and docile. “Gimme a kiss,” she requested softly, Andy puckered her lips and kissed Clarke, full of saliva and uncoordinated ability but Clarke grinned. “Goodnight, Andy.”

“Nigh-nigh.”

“I love you.”

“I lo’ you.”

Standing with an effort-filled huff, Clarke crossed the room, padding softly in miss-matching socks – laundry day got putt of this week – to flick the switch on the monitor and stand by Lexa, watching the head of unruly curls shift among cotton sheets.

“Momma?”

She frowned at the unfamiliar title, Andy didn’t call her that. “Yes?”

“No,” Andy sat up, brow pressed, “Momma.” Her hands rose, little fingers stretching and flexing, an expectant grabby motion in Lexa’s direction and the brunette stiffened in shock. “Kisses Momma,” Andy demanded like she would ask for juice, like it was the silliest thing in the world.

Verdant eyes turned to her, wavering in want for permission. It was endearing but their foundations were already collapsing and the pretence of whatever charade they had been playing with themselves, with Andy, wasn’t there anymore. Clarke felt like she was floundering without a ground for her feet but then Lexa crossed the room and Andy flung her little arms around her neck, fingers curling together in a bruising hold, kisses were mandatory, and an unimaginable kind of fondness seized her chest, an unabashed need to take Lexa by the sleeves and cling to her.

“Nigh-nigh, Momma,” Andy sung, snuggling herself into her mattress.

Clarke waited until the baby was still, and the door was pulled to, and the air was stagnant in the corridor around them, the panel heater humming away on the wall, before she pressed herself into the brunette, unbidden. “I love you,” she implored, fingers wound in her the brunette’s collar, chests flush, lips cold and tongues hot, the rush in her ears beating the common sense out of her head.

[zoids-whisper-blog]

                                 Chapter Two: Dark Skies

Alise is still missing, Juno still insists on going after her and Pana, despite what she says, is still not fine.  Chapter Two begins immediately where chapter one left off.

But this time, the stakes are much higher.  Skies has come out of the shadows and is wreaking havoc as he pleases.  Pana wants to pursue Alise into Dunraven, but it will be impossible unless Sylvanr is able to gain some ground on her brother, Skies.  Her extended babysitting adventure has now grown into fighting a territory war with two deities.

Meanwhile, the Village of Songs is slowly regaining a sense of normalcy after the attacks preceding chapter one.  Whispers are leaving their huts and venturing out into the world again...A world which is in serious need of rebuilding.

https://rpgmaker.net/games/6250/downloads/10130/ ---

The game has been up for several hours, but I was too exhausted to type up patch notes or anything like that.  Now I have.  Given the amount of time that's elapsed since the last patch, the extreme loss of old files and documentation, and my own fallible memory, I cannot hope to provide full patch notes.  Please accept these partial notes instead.  I will provide further notes once I've been able to sort things out, but there's no need to delay release for that. Some patch notes may have been for things in v1.2...but I had them down for a version v1.3 that never seems to have been released?  Who knows... ---

-After reaching a certain point in chapter two, players will be able to (finally) construct additional zoids.  As I said in an earlier post, this will initially be limited to four new zoids (Sabre Tiger, Red Horn, Lightning Saix, König Wolf).  However, unlike I said in an earlier post, these zoids will not be pilot restricted.  You are free to put Adele in a Sabre Tiger, if you so wish.  In addition, pilots can swap into existing zoids.  Pana can pilot Juno's Stone Fuhrer if you so desire.

I plan to add additional zoids.  Just like last time I mentioned this, the change-over system has been updated to make adding zoids easier.  At the same time, they all require animations, updates to Link Attack code to make sure Adele isn't sniping people in a gunless Sabre Tiger, and so on.

-I've created a new way of coding menus which makes it much easier to offer choices (as many as I want) to players with the flexibility of easily adding/removing choices based on various circumstances.  I didn't have time to roll this out completely, but players can see it during pilot switching and in a certain post-chapter Tribute Shop.  Plans are underway to update Isaac and other NPCs.

-Mathilde Gavrielle has been updated with what will eventually be the new method of coding NPCs.  This means that, whenever she appears, she largely uses the same code.  While this may not seem like it matters since I achieved the same effect with massive juggling of flags and variables before, it means that it will now be much easier to have NPCs move about the world without introducing bugs, breaking quests or eating up Dev time.  Expect mobile NPCs in a future update...I want to make this world come alive.

-As always, Sylvanr has more variety in Statue speaking bits, Pana has more variety with plant healing speaking bits and Juno has slightly more variety with plant healing speaking bits.

-Sylvanr's Rage was a good technical skill on paper, but the bulk of its power was in debuffing enemies in an AoE.  Unfortunately, that doesn't necessarily come across to players.  Rage now debuffs enemies so hard that it can't be missed.  It is now sufficiently powerful for a Link Attack.

-Juno's Sylvanr's Fury has a new animation.  More animation updates coming, but they take time and I didn't want to delay over that.  Feel free to speculate as to why I did this obscure skill first...I sure don't have a clue.

-Ursula may have been completely reworked.  I honestly don't remember if that rework went out in patch 1.2.  Anyway, it's been so long since that happened (for me) that I can't really give you an accurate step-by-step comparison with her original form.  Her new Bear focuses on locking down a single target and doing moderate turn-1 damage as opposed to buffing up to deal damage later.  

-Juno's Hope is now an instant skill.  This should give it a wider use case, hopefully.

-The main menu is now a Ring of Flowers.  I want to do more with this (like show Sylphs somewhere), but I didn't want to risk blowing up the stability of the build by mucking around with menu coding in the eleventh hour.

-The Quest Log has become the Notebook.  It has been largely re-coded to prevent crashes, now contains more quests and is generally more useful than before.

-Christopher and Leeland's Shield of Love link attack was mistakenly firing 64 times instead of 8.  Whoops.

-Christopher and Leeland's Strike Hyacinth included 3 attack actions for Christopher.  In light of new changes that make basic attacks stronger in general, this became a little over the top.  To prevent Christopher from being able to make 54 attacks with this skill, the number of attack actions has been dropped to 2.  Enjoy your 36 attack combos though, if that's your thing.

-Leeland's Divine Stratagem fizzled out if the player did not pick a support skill in time.  It now uses the main skill with no support, if possible, and a minor plan B skill if not.

-Juno's supports in Divine Stratagem were sometimes using the wrong skill due to a bit of database reordering.  She has been un-addled.

-Some Link attacks involving multiple enemy targets resulted in characters each targeting a different enemy.  They will now display coordination worthy of the vanguard.

-Leeland's DS: Strike Lily with Christopher support caused Christopher to use the original Double Time instead of Double Time II even if he had learned the latter.  This led to silly situations where Christopher could attack all day long.  No more.

-Pana and Juno's Sylvanr's Resolve link prayer was available for use even if they were not in the party together or if one of their systems was frozen.  Now it isn't.  Also, the buff it imparts lasts 1 turn longer so that Godspeed isn't necessary to get some use out of it.

-Pana's Atalanta formation was doing good work, but wasn't in line with the strength of other formations due to how low Agility values are compared to other stats and the relatively few places where it applies.  It now gives a 300% Agility boost instead of 200%.

-Adele has a new skill available after she has Taken Cover: Emerge.  She steps out of cover and gains 30 AD.  

-After the player reached a certain level of strength, Core Coating stones stopped working, maybe.  Now they work at all times, definitely.

-The Ill-Fitting tunic says that it increases the players AD gain rate.  Instead, it just made enemy zoids want to attack the wearer more often.  It is now a tunic of its word.

-If Sylvanr caused a storm to occur in certain maps, the screen would become too dark to see anything on.  This particular interaction will no longer occur on those maps.

-Previously, a System Freeze while in formation would cause the affected pilot to drop formation until the skill was used again.  Now, they should drop back into place as soon as they're back online.

[asicsindia]

Indian Shoe Size Chart - Importance of wearing right shoes

Have you ever abandoned a sport or skipped an adventure trip because you couldn’t find the right shoes to wear? Shopping for new shoes can be frustrating, especially when you can’t find the right size. After you try on a dozen pairs of ill-fitting ones, you lose hope of ever finding the perfect pair. The online market for shoes comes with a generous variety that are trendy and comfortable. But, again, the risk of buying the incorrect fit or size dissuades us from the purchase. To make this experience less harrowing, let's try and understand the significance of wearing the right shoes.

Importance Of Wearing Right Shoes

The right shoes will keep your feet healthy and save you from injuries. Always go for those that are comfortable, fit well and provide adequate support. Here are some tips to choose the right shoes:

1. Comfort is the magic word

Your shoes should take you to places without tiring your feet. Opt for good brands with sufficient cushioning that will help you improve your walk, enhance your performance and keep you high on energy all day.

2. Stability and support

Shoes made of high-quality material, especially in the sole, will provide good grip and prevent you from slipping. The perfect shoes will provide extra support and good balance that will put less pressure on your legs and protect you from injuries.

3. Durability and strength

Shoes are meant for rough use, hence you should always go for a pair that will last at least a few years, saving you from too many shopping trips.

4. Style and Trend

Along with functionality, you also want something appealing and fashionable. The right shoes will complement each of your outfits and boost your confidence.

5. Size Matters

This is the most important part of shoe shopping. If you get the size wrong, you're in for trouble. Very tight shoes can lead to foot ailments like blisters and bunions, while shoes that are too big can affect your balance and walk.

Ways To Counter The Shoe Size Chart India 

So how can we make sure we pick the right size? Here are some ways to counter this issue.

Indian Shoe Size Chart - This is a reference guide for shoe size chart India and the measurement is done in inches or centimeters. Always measure the length of your feet before purchase, whether you’re buying it online or at a retail store.

Men's Shoe Sizes - Men’s shoe size in India is very similar to the UK. However, for a US brand, you must reduce 0.5 inches to get the right fit.

Women’s Shoe Sizes - Women’s shoe sizes in India and the UK are similar, but a US size 9 would be an India size 7.

Steps to Follow On How To Measure Indian Shoe Size

It is important to know the perfect shoe size for comfort, here are few steps to follow:

Put your foot on a blank piece of paper.

Mark the tip of your longest toe and the back of your heel.

Measure the length between these two points.

Match this value with the shoe size from the shoe size chart.

If you do not want to take your child shoe shopping, you can get his or her foot measurements and compare it against the kids shoe size chart and pick the perfect one.

Asics Shoes Size Chart is an accurate measurement chart that helps men, women and children pick shoes of the right size and fit.

Conclusion

Shoes affect your style, activity, personality, confidence and even your health. Hence, it is advisable to pick them wisely and carefully. We hope our guide to wearing proper shoes helps you make the right choice, effortlessly.

CTA

To find the latest style and fit, check Asics India near you. They have a variety of options for men, women and kids in vibrant colors and style, enhancing your walking comfort.

[mabramshq]

• BASICS •

Full name: Morgan Gareth Abrams. 

Nickname(s) or alias(es): Mor, Gareth Pryce. 

Preferred name(s): He doesn’t necessarily have a preference; if someone wants to give him a nickname, he’s not all that likely to complain or protest in any real way. 

Date of birth: 23 May, 1992.

Zodiac sign: Gemini. 

Religion: Agnostic. 

Gender: Cis male. 

Preferred pronouns: He/him/his. 

Sexual preference: Pansexual.

Romantic preference: Panromantic. 

Hometown: San Francisco, CA. 

Resides in: San Fernando, CA. 

Occupation: Archaeologist, former part-time curator, porn star. 

Language(s) spoken: English, conversational French and Spanish. 

Native language: English. 

• BACKGROUND •

Birth order: Oldest. 

Level of education: BA in Archaeology from Stanford, MA in Classical Archaeology from UC Berkeley. 

How were their grades?: Morgan is an exceedingly intelligent and dedicated student and he pushed himself to earn straight A’s in all of his time as a student. Whatever difficulty he encountered, he pushed through with even more dedication - making him an incredible student even if he wasn’t earning the A’s he wanted. 

Best childhood memory: Taking a dance class with Artie when they were very, very young; Morgan’s not exactly a wonderful dancer but having Artie with him and a general willingness not to take himself too seriously made it perhaps the most entertaining thing he’d ever done. It’s something he really cherishes. 

Family’s economic status: Upper middle class. 

Childhood career choice: Astronaut. 

School subject they excelled at: History. 

School subject they had trouble with: Chemistry. 

• APPEARANCE, VOICE & MANNERISMS •

Birthmarks/scars/distinguishing marks: He has a fairly large birthmark on the back of his neck that’s usually covered by his hair, and a scar through the corner of his lip from smashing his face into a table as a child. 

Tattoos: A lion’s head on his right bicep ( here ), an intricate compass on his left ribs ( here ). 

Piercings: He had a nose ring when he was a teenager but has since taken it out, as such, the hole has closed. 

Dominant hand: Right. 

Frequently worn jewelry: He wears a class ring on his right index finger from his time at Stanford, and a Celtic knot pendant ( here ). 

Speech style: He speaks at a fairly measured pace, but he’s always fairly excited when he’s talking and he can rush through things or slow down at random intervals. He also frequently talks with his hands, using large and often miscellaneous gestures to illustrate or punctuate the things he’s saying. 

Verbal tics: Occasionally, when he gets too excited, he can have a bit of trouble really digging into what he’s trying to say. He also has a tendency to fumble for words and stammer when he’s flustered or even remotely nervous. 

Scent: His favorite scents are definitely more earthy, woody sorts of scents so he often smells like his favorite cologne ( Lagerfeld ), or like his Peppermint body wash. 

Posture: Morgan’s posture is fairly good, but he can slump or slouch when he’s incredibly focused on something else, as his attention isn’t exactly fixed on having good posture. 

• PERSONALITY •

Personality type: ENFP. 

Positive traits: Adaptable, adventurous, articulate, capable, charismatic, compassionate, dynamic, earnest, empathetic, idealistic, passionate. 

Negative traits: Crass, hedonistic, impulsive, indulgent, shy. 

Usual mood: He’s a fairly cheerful person, so he tends to be in an excellent mood more often than not— he’s rarely not smiling or cracking jokes, and is always eager and excited about any given thing going on in his life on the day-to-day. 

Insecurities: He can be fairly insecure about his overall intelligence and self-worth, as he has depression, and can often struggle with allowing himself to understand that he is brilliant and entirely deserving of all the good things in his life. 

Fears: He’s not afraid of much but he has a perpetual fear of being alone for extended periods of time, or not finding fulfillment in his life. 

Comforts: Hot chocolate, a blanket his Nana quilted for him before he was born, his favorite video games, 90′s cartoons. 

Habits/quirks: He’s an avid reader and takes at least an hour before bed to plow through another chunk of whatever book he’s reading, smoking, tracking down obscure archaeological texts, watching the same three movies whenever he gets bored or needs something to be on in the background, bites his lips, picks at his cuticles. 

Nervous tics: Stuttering, fidgeting with his clothes, cracking his knuckles, drumming on things, humming. 

Superstitions: He wears his Celtic knot pendant constantly - it’s his lucky charm and he refuses to take it off for much of anything. 

Pet peeves: People smacking their gum, people who don’t use their blinkers when they drive, disrespectful or ignorant people. 

• HEALTH & PSYCHOLOGY •

Diet: Omnivore. 

Alcohol Use: He drinks socially. 

Drug Use: He’s clean. 

Addictions: Cigarettes, video games. 

Allergies: He has a general pollen allergy but nothing more serious than that. 

Exercise habits: He works out for at least thirty minutes every day, though his preferred method of exercise tends to change from day to day. 

Sleeping habits: He sleeps fairly well on any given night, though occasionally he sleeps far more than he needs to and it throws his schedule off entirely. 

Any physical ailments/illnesses/disabilities?: No. 

Any mental illnesses/disorders?: He has a diagnosed depressive disorder. 

Enneagram Type: Type 4, the Romantic. 

Moral Alignment: Chaotic good. 

Temperament: Sanguine. 

Element: Air. 

Hogwarts House: Hufflepuff. 

Intelligence Type: Linguistic. 

• VIEWS ON... •

Life: it can be exceedingly wonderful and exceedingly brutal all in the same breath, but making the most of it and the best of it is always a goal. 

Death: it’s an inevitability, and nothing to fear. 

Love: it’s perhaps the best thing anyone could do with their life, love someone or something else. 

Sex: it’s the best way he knows how to connect with people. 

Marriage: it’s difficult and messy, but it can be wonderful and fulfilling. 

Divorce: if it’s best for those involved, then it’s best. it’s no one’s business, and deeply private.

Family: is important, but being mindful of how those relationships affect any one person is important. toxicity isn’t worth it. 

Friends: are lifelines. they can be some of the best parts of day to day life, and should be treated with reverence and importance. 

Politics: are open to being involved in; fighting for what you believe in is and should be a priority whenever it can be. 

Religion: if it’s important to someone then it’s important to them, there’s no need or reason to judge or criticize anyone for their beliefs. 

Work: it can be fulfilling in the best way. 

Money: can be important, but isn’t the end all be all of anything. 

Alcohol/Drug Use: everything is alright in moderation. 

Tattoos/Piercings: self-expression is important. 

Swearing: fuck is his favorite noun, adjective, and adverb. 

• FAMILY •

Father(s): Andrew Abrams. 

Describe their relationship: Morgan’s relationship with his father is great— they’ve always been close, and he’s always supported Morgan in everything he’s wanted to do. Despite his work as an accountant, it was Andrew who really support Morgan in his passion for singing and music in general; he encouraged Morgan to do the things he wanted in his life as long as they made him happy. 

Mother(s): Karen Abrams. 

Describe their relationship: Morgan is even closer to his mother than he is his father; she’s been his best friend, confidant and support system since he was a child. She’s his biggest fan, and the first to reprimand him when he makes a mistake. They have a sort of honesty with one another that Morgan adores and he’d do absolutely anything for her. 

Pet(s): A German Shepherd named Jack. 

• QUESTIONNAIRE •

Optimistic or pessimistic?: Optimistic. 

Disorderly and messy or methodical and neat?: Both. 

Book smart or street smart?: Book smart. 

Leader or follower?: Leader. 

Day or night person?: Day person. 

Cat or dog person?: Both. 

Coffee or tea?: Tea. 

What do they wear to bed?: Usually just flannel pajama pants, or boxers. 

Do they snore?: Yes. 

What position do they sleep in?: Stomach. 

Which side of the bed do they sleep on?: He sleeps in the middle. 

Can they multi-task or must they focus on one subject at a time?: He’s definitely a multi-tasker. 

Do they get restless when things are too quiet or do they favour solitude and silence?: He enjoys silence but he doesn’t require it constantly. 

What would completely break them?: Losing his family. 

What was the best thing in their life?: Currently, his work and his personal relationships. 

[oursyncracyqwo34]

What You Can Learn From Bill Gates About Potty Training

Potty Training Adventures

Sleeping. A toddler is not born ready to nap independently. There is an extensive collection of child development, from normal sleeping to more intricate toddler development like hand movements and bowel control. Toddlers start to develop motor skills, like making sounds or walking. Potty training is another important toddler development milestone that most parents will go through when their infant becomes a toddler.

Most toddlers will start walking sometime between four to twelve months old. During this stage, they'll have the ability to hold on to the toddler walker with minimal support. Most children will eventually have the ability to carry their own weight and do easy toddler walks. Other landmarks include potty training, eating fresh foods on their own, playing with other children, and crawling around the house.

By the age of four years old, most toddlers are no longer interested in learning the bathroom or using the potty. They are capable of brushing and flossing by themselves. This is an excellent sign. However, if your little one shows disturbing or aggressive behaviour, you may need to work on issues beyond toddler stage behaviour.

If your toddler begins toilet training but does not advance past the potty training stage on schedule, you need to consider the possibility he or she is not ready. It's never a great idea to leave a young child unattended in the bathroom. Parents should work together with their child, not just during potty training, but also every time your toddler is exploring and playing.

Toddler's Adaptability. There are a lot of things you, as a parent, can do to help your toddler adjust to his or her environment and enhance their intellectual development. You should give your toddler lots of chances to do so.

Young Children Need Milk According to recent reports, 2% milk offers important nutrients that are essential for the evolution of the growing immune system. A healthy immune system in toddlers helps to ward off illnesses and delays the whole milk allergy.

There are numerous other critical landmarks which are attained in this time period that parents usually do not highlight as much as talking and walking. Gaining the ability to point at whatever it is the little one would like you to find shows huge psychological benefits in a toddler. This generally happens before a child's first birthday. By the time your baby is 12 weeks old, they ought to have stopped using bottles with teats altogether. Your baby should be drinking from an open or a free-flow cup, so this helps them learn to sip rather than suck drinks. Pretend play provides many opportunities to wait, take turns, and reconnect as children determine how the story will unfold. Another notion is playing"sharing music" where all you chooses a tool to play and place an egg-timer for 1 minute.

By the end of their second year, many toddlers show more interest in the company of other children. They might not be quite prepared to talk about their toys when they perform, but it's a big step in their budding social life.

Some children will have a hard time stopping a tantrum. In such circumstances, try saying,"I'll allow you to settle down " But no matter what you do, do not reward your toddler by giving in. This will only prove that pops are an effective way to get what he or she would like. Rather, kindly praise your child for regaining self-control. Rememberthat want to teach your kid the best approach to get exactly what he or she wants is through good behavior. If you understand your toddler is exhausted, it's not the best time to go grocery shopping or attempt to squeeze in one more errand. It's important not to spank, hit, or slap your child.

At this age, children will probably not be able to make a connection between the behaviour and physical punishment. The message you send when you spank is that it is OK to hit someone if you are angry. Experts state that spanking isn't any more effective than other forms of discipline, like timeouts. And remember that children learn by watching adults, especially their parents. So make sure that your own behaviour is role-model material. When requesting your child to pick up toys, then you'll make a much stronger belief if you've put away your own belongings instead of leaving all your stuff over the room. Toys or dolls may also help you explain the procedure for your toddler.

Between 18 and 24 months, a toddler's brain is ready to begin playing make-believe. You may catch them"feeding" a teddy bear or speaking into a toy phone.

But around months, you can expect to hear some real words. Between 18 and 24 weeks, most kids start using words that are simple, like"no longer" or"go there." By age 2, you may even hear a short sentence or two. Every day having a toddler is an experience -- and there is so much to look forward for as your child grows. Wondering when your child will start to walk, talk, and do http://generablediqt80.jigsy.com/entries/general/potty-training-it-s-easy-if-you-do-it-smart all those adorable toddler things? As infants move in their second year of lifethey become more mobile and much more independent, exploring everything they can get.

This stage can start as early as nine months depending upon the child and surroundings.

Toddlers tend to have temper tantrums because they have such powerful emotions but do not know how to express themselves the way that older kids and adults do.

This era is occasionally known as"the terrible twos", due to the temper tantrums for which they're famous.

This period between the ages of two and five when they're reaching for independence repeats itself during adolescence.

Immediate causes can include physical factors such as hunger, discomfort and fatigue or a youngster's desire to gain greater freedom and control of the environment around them.

One of the most reckless things for toddlers is using a sippy cup in their hands while they have a meal. While babies will latch on to bottles with their palms, you should not leave your baby alone with a bottle - ever. Infants swallow their bottle as a very tiny part of the hungry body, and this may result in suffocation. While the baby may seem like he or she is nursing, the simple fact is that the baby is simply taking joy from the bottle itself.

Fifteen months is the best age for you to start making changes in your toddler's diet. You need to make sure that the toddler you have is getting enough nourishment, so begin introducing new foods to their diet. Begin by giving your toddler three meals a day, at the exact times each day, and make sure that each toddler has three little cups of his or her own food. When you begin changing up the toddler foods, you'll also see that your toddler will be more receptive to change and eating in a brand new manner.

You will need to track the toddler constantly, and be sure the toddler has everything he or she needs. Toddlers will develop many negative behaviours if they are not tracked, so always supervising them is needed. This means providing constant supervision when they're doing their homework, potty training, riding the bike, playing outside, eating meals, and going to bed. With constant oversight, you can grab toddler behaviors until they become dangerous and life-threatening.

Toddlers and Kids: It's All About Nutrition Parents who feed their child with ready-to-eat foods or nutritionally fortified meals often realize that the child develops many bad eating habits because they are given what they want when they are hungry. One of the best ways to keep your toddler healthy is through healthy eating choices. When you choose healthy foods for your toddler, you'll discover he or she gets plenty of vitamins and minerals, and avoid developing bad eating habits.

Toys and Toddlers It's All About Safety Adults often forget that the toys that they pick for their little one can contribute to accidental injuries or even death. Always check the toy for small parts that could be choking hazards. Choose toys that come with a locking mechanism so that the toddler cannot reach and play with the parts. Keep in mind that children should not be put at risk for choking while playing with any sort of toy.

[it-is-bugs]

TDBM Fic: The Pleasure of Your Company ~ 6

The boys turn first...

6. Buck Night:

Later, Matthew would blame what transpired on the alcohol.  Or rather, the lack of alcohol being consumed by Lucien Blake for once.  

"I won't drink tonight," Lucien had announced just as Cec had began to pour out.  All the men had looked at each other with shock, and Cec slowly put the stopper back in the decantenter.  

"Very good, sir," he said formally.  

"Cec, sit down.  You're a guest too," Lucien told him.  To the small group that made up an impromptu buck night, he explained, "I want to have a clear head tomorrow.  Can't let Jean down."

"Don't want to mess up the vows?" Danny suggested.

Lucien gave a half-smile.  "That too."

Cec cleared his throat.  "Right."  He sat, rather stiff, in one of the chairs, but his gaze kept darting around the room.  There were only male club members in the smoking room, but these were some of the stuffiest citizens of Ballarat.  There were lots of rustling newspapers and clearing of throats, but no one spoke up.  

Danny wondered how to get the party going.  This wasn't like any buck night that he'd attended before, but that was just like the doctor.  No late night in the back room of a pub, full of fag smoke and the clink of beer glasses with girlie magazines being passed around. Instead, they sat at this posh club, where they'd have to sleep tonight so the girls could have the Blake house. Cec was perched on a chair, Lawson was drinking steadily but saying nothing, Bill was looking at the animal prints on the walls with bored half-interest, and Lucien turned his water glass, still a small smile on his lips, lost in thought.  Danny decided that he should try small talk...  

"You'll be leaving on your wedding trip Monday?" he asked.

Lucien started.  "Yes," he replied, "The wedding tomorrow, then a good lie in on Sunday..."  That smile became a smirk--

"Not going to church?" Matthew asked and instantly saw it was the wrong thing to say.  He blinked blearily, noting Cec's outraged expression, Bill's eye roll and Danny's shock.  Lucien looked like a puppy whose paw had been trod upon.

"I'll be staying the two nights in the station's backroom," he said grimly, "it'll be an adventure."

"You can come home," insisted Lucien.

"I think not."  Matthew drained his glass and Cec popped up to refill it.  He gave a pained smile. "Let you two enjoy some privacy."

Lucien was back to that dreamy expression.  

Bill drained his beer.  "Well, I'll be pushing off--"  He'd had too much of this dull scene.  After some half-hearted goodbyes and see you tomorrow, everyone sat back down and the conversation slowed even more.  

Cec retrieved the cigar box from being the bar and asked, "Smoke, gentlemen?"  

With nothing else to do, they all accepted cigars and lit up.

After inhaling a few puffs, Matthew felt a bit ill, and washed the nausea down by draining his glass.  That's when he said it.  

Gasping out smoke, he said, "Funny how things turn out.  If Jean had said yes, we wouldn't be 'ere tonight."   He blinked slowly.

Lucien became alert, as he always did at Jean's name. "What?"

"When I asked her out."

Cec and Danny froze.

Tipping his head, Lucien fixed Matthew with that intense look that Matthew dimly recalled from interrogations of the toughest suspects.  

Put the glass down, mate, Matthew chided himself. He raised his hands.  "It was nothing.  She was--is a fine figure of a woman.  Christopher had been dead a few years, it seemed enough time had passed..."

"I'm sure," Lucien said shortly, his eyes flaring like hot blue flames.

Matthew knew this was going tits up but he was too drunk to find his way out of it.  Perhaps if he explained further-- "She turned me down flat; no worries. I figured the whole thing with arresting her son--" He grumbled, "Even if it was Doug Ashby who banged the hammer down.  I would have let the boy off with a warning and a few weeks on a work farm.  But Doug said his dad had been nothing but trouble and it looked like Jack was headed down the same path..."  He ran out of steam.  

"So it was all her choice?"

"To say thanks but no thanks?"  Matthew shrugged with effort; his arms felt very heavy.  "Yep."

The room seemed dim, and Lucien's voice far away, and  yet somehow thundered: "It's a wonder that you would want to live with us, seeing how painful it must be."

Matthew shook his head to clear it.  "Eh?"  

"Or did you think it would be easier to pick up the pieces when I inevitably cock it up?" the thumping voice accused him.   

Matthew tried to focus, but it was impossible with Lucien looming over him, blocking out the light.  When he looked around, Danny and Cec had disappeared.  He was quite alone, his spine pressed against the back of his chair.  He rallied.  

"Listen, mate," he said with sudden clarity, "you've got to get past this idea that Jean's going to toss you over first chance she gets, or she will.  No woman wants a man with no confidence about himself."  

Lucien stood up straight, and tugged down his waistcoat.  Then without a word, he turned on his heel and left.  

When Matthew felt that he could stand without his head spinning too much, he made his way to the bar and requested a cup of strong black coffee.  Ignoring the burning, he downed it in a few gulps.  Then he sought out Lucien.

He found him out on the balcony, ignoring the cool, damp breeze.  Lucien sat in a wrought iron chair, his feet propped on a table, smoking a cigarette and stroking his beard slowly with his thumb as he looked out across the city lights.  

Now that he'd found his friend, Matthew didn't know what to say, so he wavered on his feet and waited to be acknowledged.  

"I should have asked Alice to be my best ma--woman," Lucien said, but there was no animosity in his tone, so Matthew just chuckled.

"Jean's had to put up enough with your public spectacles.  That might just have pushed her over the edge."

Lucien laughed too and waved to another chair.  Grateful, Matthew lowered himself into it, sticking his bum leg out straight.  

"Should have invited her tonight, though.  She wouldn't have let us squabble in this squalid manner," Lucien pointed out.  

"True.  She'd have no patience for us."  Matthew brooded. "Probably why she's not married.  She's got little tolerance for the male ego."

"You've noticed," Lucien said, quirking a smile.  

"Yes, that's why..."  Matthew let that thought die on his lips.

But Lucien was still stone-cold sober.  "Why?"

"Nothin'," Matthew grumbled.

Lucien inhaled his cigarette then exhaled a long stream of smoke.  "Alice is a fine person.  I wouldn't like to see her hurt."

Matthew's temper flared and his head throbbed.  "Bloody hell, Lucien!  You've got some nerve to suggest I'd hurt a woman. I think things through, not like someone I know," he muttered bitterly.

"Oh, that's what you're doing, is it?  Thinking things through?"  Lucien held out his cigarette case to Matthew.

He needed to change the topic.  "I thought Jean doesn't like you to smoke?" He waved off the cigarettes.

"It's my buck night. Need to be a naughty lad--"  Peeking out from under his lashes, Lucien had that expression just like when he did something that would land them in the headmaster's office.  

"Bullshit. She's got you under her thumb, good and proper," Matthew sneered.  

Lucien didn't seem put out by that indictment.  He shrugged, giving another of those soft smiles.   "Just be careful you don't think your way right out of a chance."

Matthew lolled his head back, feeling ill again.  When was the last time he'd drank this much?  "After three years of doing everything possibly wrong, you're suddenly the expert on courting women?  Alright then.  Still the smartest man in the room."  This time, he didn't care if he offended Lucien.

"I thought we'd straightened all that out."

"I don’t mind you being smarter than me," Matthew said with a limp-wristed wave. "Or solving the crimes. Just bloody tired of you patronising me."

"I don’t patronise you!" protested Lucien.

"You’re doing it right now!  Trying to tell me how to get a bird!"

"Alice isn't some bird from down at your local!"

"Exactly.  And she'd be crazy to even--"  Matthew couldn't finish the sentence.  

Lucien clasped his shoulder and Matthew had to fight back.  "So you can solve more crimes drunk than a station full of sober coppers.  Has it occured to you that you need to be drunk to solve them?  What are you going to do about that now?"  He met Lucien's fear-filled gaze.  "Now that Jean will be your wife, not someone you can dismiss with two weeks' pay?"

"She was never--"

"She was.  She knew it, and somewhere in there--"  He tapped Lucien's skull.  "You knew."

Lucien sat back down. "I never would have," he whispered.

Matthew was suddenly very tired.  "But you could have."

"I never would have," Lucien repeated, now strong.

"Oh really.  Why not?"

"Because I always loved her.  Even when I didn't know it, I did."

"Then I guess it's good that you're marrying her."

Lucien suddenly grinned.  "I am, aren't I?"  He looked at his watch.  "In...oh goodness me.  We should get to bed."  

Matthew struggled to his feet.  "Damn right.  Gotta get our beauty sleep."  He was still drunk.  

Lucien took his arm, supporting him.  "Can't have Jean turning right around and walking back down the aisle when she gets a look at me."

"You're doing it again, mate."

"Yes, yes..."

After the men passed through the doorway, Cec stepped out of the shadows.  He stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray that Lucien had used, then picked it up, and pushed the chairs back under the table.  After one more look around the balcony, he followed them in.  Young Mr Parker had removed himself to the closest pub with rooms for the night, the lads were sharing a room upstairs, and Cec would go home to his flat.  The party was over.  

~ end

[jelanisaeed]

Round 5: VS Turtwig- Legends Part 5

Hello everyone! Sooo, I had a whole plan for Jasper's chapters and then I scraped them lol Cause I'm chaotic like that lol. So, I made some edits to the ending of Chapter 4 which changed how this chapter begins. Basically, I removed the argument and ended it with a more diplomatic ending. The reason is that in light of everything going on in the world, I didn't want to have my male leads experiencing conflict with male leads right off the bat when I know my female lead won't experience the same. So, I decided to make all three have unique experiences core to their development and character.

There's a lot of pain in the world so I want to alleviate that. However, I feel it necessary to make this known moving forward. This author is a black queer man who supports Black Lives Matter. So a lot of my stories will have emotions and plot-lines geared towards the black experience (modified of course since this doesn't take place in our world). I feel like it's necessary to make that clear moving forward.

And before we move onto lighter things, I also wanna say Rest in Power Chadwick Boseman. You were loved and still are for your amazing contributions to the lives of black peoples and for being an icon that young black actors can strive for.

Nowww, on a lighter note. The song of choice for this chapter was all over the place lol. But I eventually settled on My Sanity by Thrii. They're amazing and that song is so beautiful.

Without further ado, I hope you enjoy the story!

…

Pokémon Adventures: Turquoise, Jasper, & Ammolite

Round 5: VS Turtwig – Legends Part 5

Location: Veilstone City Date: August 4th , 3000 Time: 3:00pm

"Ight," Jasper finally said with a smooth grin. "I'll take your word for it."

Today hadn't gone as Jasper expected. Not surprised there. His days never followed a set plan. Something always came up and disrupted the course. Rocking the boat until he tumbled into the waters and swam for safety. Other times, however, he was surprised with a gift.

Much like today, he chuckled.

Jasper accepted the package from the cute guy. Had to be from Oreburgh with his purple miner hat over his short coils. Dressed the part, though the orange belt was a nice touch. Way better those gaudy belts the miners wore around Veilstone.

The package matched Jasper's aesthetic. Star-themed with his name written almost like constellations. Whoever this was from had great taste. Maybe Jasper could borrow some stationary from them? Regardless, he tore open the package and found three gifts—a timer ball, a letter, and some gadget.

"A pokémon?" Jasper snatched the ball and examined the transparent top. A turtle of some kind slept inside.

Mommy nudged him and flashed another encouraging smile. "Go on," she urged with cacturne mimicking her every move. "Let's see 'em?"

Everyone watched him, awaiting his next move. Even Kito stopped eating for this! Though the little looked fed up with all the waiting. Tapping his feet with arms folded across his tiny chest. Jasper chuckled. If Kito was ready for it then there was no reason why he shouldn't be.

"Ight—c'mon out, buddy!"

In a burst of light and smoke, the pokémon appeared. Much greener than he thought with a twig on its head. Still cute though. Even though it yawned nice and wide without care.

"A turtwig?" Mommy frowned.

Turtwig? Now that was name Jasper remembered. He learned about them in history class. Super rare pokémon that Pokémon Professors researched in Sinnoh. One of the Pokédex Holders had them too if he remembered right. Diamond, was it? Yeah, Diamond of that comedy duo.

But why me? Something soft nudged against his legs. Jasper looked down and smiled. Looks like Turtwig finally noticed him. Little guy smiled at him with those droopy yellow eyes of his.

"Professor Kapok gave you a turtwig, huh?" Baryte mused with furrowed brows. "Weird. What else is in there."

Guess this Professor Kapok didn't give out pokémon often. Much less to strangers. Jasper didn't have any teachers who matched the name. Although, there was this cool guest speaker who always asked him questions. Said something about having the eyes of a pyroar—whatever that meant. Jasper never paid it much mind.

"He gave me this weird-looking gadget," a handheld painted light yellow with purple stars, "and this letter."

A letter addressed to him in perfect script. Jasper snorted. Academics sure loved their cursive writing. Nonetheless, he opened the envelope and took the letter inside. Written in cursive as well, but on more star-themed stationary.

"Greetings, Jasper." Arceus, even the writing sounded intellectual. "I hope you remember me. Spoke at your school while you were just a litleo. Yet your eyes burned with the passion of pyroar. Such ferocity in your moments—I knew you'd be a force in the future."

So, it was them. Jasper assumed they were just another scientist. One of Daddy's colleagues perhaps? He met some of them in the past. Whenever he brought Daddy dinner during overtime hours. His coworkers always gushed about Jasper. Even teased Daddy about having the coolest son ever.

Their words…well, maybe he paraphrased a bit.

But this Professor Kapok came to his school. Taught the best lecture on dark type pokémon he ever sat through. Left without a trace, only to give him a gift years later. Jasper didn't believe much in faith, but this lined up too well not to be!

The letter soaked Jasper's mind with flowery metaphors. A few questionable ones, sure—The hell does "a blazing star in the void" mean? But he pushed through. Poetry was never his strong suit. Though Baryte took to it with ease and explained that stuff for him.

Smart guy, Jasper decided. Though, no surprise there. Baryte gave off the vibes.

He finished the letter shortly after. Only noticed then his trembling hands. The teardrops pelting the paper. And the soft arms hugging him from behind. The sensations struck at once. His heart led the sensation, pounding in beat to his sobs.

Little turtwig even hopped into his arms. Little turtwig—a pokémon he just met—came to comfort him with soft nuzzles to his chest. Jasper accepted each brush and hugged the little guy closer to his chest.

Professor Kapok gave him a gift to treasure. Not just in this new pokémon. But the opportunity of the lifetime inscribed in his words.

"I never enjoyed seeing the lights of stars dimming away," the letter had said. "So, for you, I'll send a private nurse for your mother. So, you may take your journey uninhibited and breathe life into the star burning within you."

…

Jasper emerged from the bathroom refreshed. A grin slapped across his face as he hung a dry towel around his neck. Perfect for catching the water dripping from his shrunken afro. Had to love washdays. Never failed to leave him as stress-free as the towel slung around his waist. Almost made the cold shower worth it.

Almost. Jasper stilled loathed them with a burning passion.

I guess they good for something, Jasper shrugged and walked back to his room. They eased away the sores from his morning workouts. Plus, he felt less tension in his soul.

Still hate 'em though. The disdain, however, didn't last long. Once he slipped into his room, he found the cutest surprise. His new turtwig stood at the door with a fish-eating grin.

Now this made the shower worth it. "You waited for me, Kobe?" The little guy nodded. Even licked his wet legs. Jasper laughed. Such a sweet little guy—unlike Kito who lazed around on his bed.

I gotta thank Professor Kapok when I see him. Maybe buy them a gift. Though, Jasper didn't know where to start! Science wasn't his forte; maybe Baryte had some suggestions? He seemed the type.

Regardless, Jasper had more important business to attend to. Like getting dressed. And he wasted no time throwing on his clothes. Truth be told, he had this outfit picked out for years! Well, sort of —a few changes as his style evolved.

Ge unzipped his stunky track top, showing off his favorite starry night tank top. Paired well with his royal blue track shorts and silver compression tights. Finished off by slipping into a pair of purple and black sneakers.

"How do I look?" Jasper struck a pose. If he had the mass, he would look like all those famous bodybuilders! Especially the ones down in Orre. Now they were massive!

Kito only nodded, bored with it all. Figures—never gave Jasper any credit! So what if he saw it a million times? Kito needed to learn from Kobe. Now he had the perfect amount of enthusiasm as he jumped around and cheered. Jasper grinned. Finally, someone appreciated his swag.

Half of being a trainer was looking the part, right? The half came from being prepared. Jasper already packed up his murkrow travel duffle with the necessities. Now, where did he put his belt?

Ah ha! There it was, hanging off his desk. He strapped it on and clipped his dusk balls in place. Now, he was ready for anything Sinnoh threw at him!

"Jasper?" Mommy stood in the doorframe with cacturne beside her. Her eyes glossy as tears streaked down her face. "You look so handsome."

Jasper blushed and rubbed the back of his head. Maybe it was too early for handsome. He still had to pick out his hair. Couldn't go out with a shrunken 'fro! Especially if Mommy wanted pictures like always. No way he'd embarrass himself again!

"I want you to know this before you leave," Mommy started. "Something I'm sure you know, but reassurance never hurt."

Mommy walked to him. Slowly as if every step burned away at her energy. In some ways, it did. Jasper knew it did. Not just from the illness, but her pride. Back in her day, Mommy rose to the ranks of the Elite Four and mastered Dark-type pokémon. Even conducted extensive research on them. It was, honestly, how she met Daddy. And the two fell in love instantly. Or so they say. Grownups loved telling love stories.

She reached him drenched in sweat. Her breathing labored as cacturne scolded her. Thank Arceus for that guy. Mommy's partner and caretaker. He knew her better than most and never took his eyes off her. It set his heart at ease to know she had him while Jasper left.

"Your father and I are proud of you. Regardless of what path you take. And we'll support and cheer you on through hardships. So, please, don't forget to call home."

Smirking, Jasper hugged her tight. "You don't hafta worry, Mommy." After all these years, his dreams felt closer than ever. "I'll call home and I'll come back. Just you wait."

Time to follow the stars like Professor Kapok said…or whatever that letter meant.

…

"So, you're ready now?" Baryte asked with a smirk.

Jasper rolled his eyes. Wasn't his fought! Mommy refused to stop taking photos. Only Arceus knew what she planned to do with them. Especially the ones with his shrunken afro! She loved showing those off to company. Parents loved embarrassing their kids, Jasper figured. Must be some form of payback from their parents or whatever. Not that he cared.

Okay, maybe he did. If only to stop her from showing those photos to his coach again.

Mommy played a cruel game, but Jasper rose above it. Besides, he had bigger issues to solve. "Yeah, just gotta swing by Lake Valor." He stated, slinging his duffle over his shoulder. "I left Kula there in the morning."

Baryte accepted that and followed him there.

Truth be told, Kula enjoyed Lake Valor more than his room. Not that he blamed her. Jasper always got up early to relax by the lake. Sometimes he spent the morning bathing in the solar rays as his pokémon played. It was easy for him. Under the soft embrace of the lake, he felt at ease. Energized with peaceful energy as the tension eased from every fiber of his being.

On the way there, Jasper boasted about the lake. Encouraged Baryte to take a swim there sometimes but backed off when the miner admitted he couldn't swim. Fit his aesthetic— swimming rock-lover? Jasper laughed.

They arrived at the lakefront easily enough. Jasper knew the route well and took all the best shortcuts. Encountered a few pokémon along the way, of course. And a few trainers who loved losing to him. What could he say? When it came to battling, Jasper held his own.

And so did Baryte. His cranidos rammed through the competition with an impish grin. Had to love it.

When they arrived, however, Jasper felt a shift in the atmosphere. Spirited pokémon lived in Lake Valor and infected the air with bursts of energy. On a good day, he heard the roars of a gyarados breaching free of the crystal blue water and blew a powerful spray to rain over the land. Much like this morning.

Yet the lake was silent. And icky energy crawled through the air and stung at his bare skin.

"This is Lake Valor?" Baryte frowned beside him with a strange look behind those glasses. "It's…somber—not like you described."

Somber…an aura that didn't blame in this lake. Over the years, Jasper only experiences roaring energy blazing through the souls of pokémon and trainers alike. Not this cold hand that strangled his inner flame.

"This is wrong." Jasper walked inside and scowled. That icky energy bit at him, whispering strange warnings in his ears. Warnings that didn't match the usual voices he heard. "Something happened here?"

A thin fog fluttered around them. Chilling as the voices grew louder and that hand tightened its grip. Beside him, Baryte shivered. Couldn't blame the guy. The lake shouldn't feel like this. Unless someone trespassed and disrupted the natural habitat. Jasper frowned. Anyone who disturbed the lake had to deal with him as a Child—

"Gah!" Baryte stumbled into him and pointed a shaky finger and at a downed body up ahead. A dark, bird-shaped…wait a minute!

"Kula!" Jasper scrambled to his murkrow and scooped her into his arms. Something attacked her! An electric-type no doubt; she had electricity dancing through her feathers.

"Jasper?" Baryte whispered, tense and with a hand at his belt. "Look ahead."

Deep in the fog, a ball of light floated. Dancing almost like a bizarre apparition as it came closer. The air thickened and Jasper swore he smelled ozone. Regardless, that icky energy gnawed at him the closer the light came. The voices now a chorus of screaming children submerged underwater. That light had a strange aura to it…much like the lake.

"The trespasser…" Eyes wide, Jasper screamed for Baryte to move. The two went separate ways as a lance of golden electricity shot through the fog and struck down a towering tree! Their attacker emerged from the fog with a ditzy look to it. But the aura it radiated sent the voices in a frenzy, Finally, Jasper understood why.

"A Shadow Pokémon."

For the first time in years, shadow pokémon returned to the lake.

…

Anddd that's the Chapter! Jasper is really fun to play with. Especially cause he has an endless pit of energy that really just writes itself. I adore him lol And Baryte kind of acts like a good balance for him. But that'll come up more later. They're good for each other. In a friendship way lol I haven't given thought to who Jasper is paired with now, but we'll see! Who knows, Jasper and Baryte might be the end result lol.

But anyways, feel free to review or pm with what you think of the chapter!